Part 4

Getting into the Roswell Air Base hospital was too easy, Bradley thought to himself. The gate guard recognized Barry Straker and the Buick and simply waved them on through.

Three green military ambulances were parked to one side of the entrance ramp. Two men in military police uniforms stood beside the nearest army ambulance.

The two MPs gave the group only cursory looks as they walked straight into the emergency entrance.

A tall gray haired major was standing near the entrance doors.

"Henderson, what are you doing here?" Major Gordon asked when he caught sight of the group coming up the ramp to the emergency entrance. Gordon was the chief intelligence officer for Alamogordo air base.

"Hello, Ben," Henderson said. He pointed to the small boy with him. "My godson went and fell off the porch roof. We need somebody to check him out. This is his dad, Colonel Straker."

Gordon nodded a greeting to the Roswell officer.

"Your godson, huh?" Gordon said, peering down at the boy. He was slender and very blond. His blue gray eyes looked too large for his face.

"What's been going on here?" Barry asked. "We've never had MPs guarding the emergency room before."

"I wish I could tell you, Colonel, but I honestly don't know. We're on regional radar alert, too," Gordon said.

"Why, what's going on?" Henderson asked.

"More weird weather signatures up in the mountains," Gordon told him. "And more of those discs over White Sands and Trinity. I don't know where they're from, but I'd sure like them to go home." He looked down at the little boy once more. He was looking decidedly unwell.

"Doctor McCafferty should be around here someplace. I'll hunt him down for you, have him take a look at the kid."

"Is all of Alamogordo at Roswell today?" Henderson asked.

"No," Gordon said. "It just feels like it. McCafferty was going to help Fleming with some autopsies, but the smell got to him. He's been helping out here, instead. Take your buddy in there." He pointed to an open door along the corridor. "And I'll get somebody to look at him."

"Major," the boy called. Gordon stopped and looked back.

"Are the bodies from the crash here?"

"How do you know about that?" Gordon asked.

"I was there," the boy said simply.

Gordon shot Henderson a curious look and the other man nodded.

"He was there," Henderson said.

"Next you'll be telling me he's a Martian, too," Gordon complained. "I'll go find McCafferty." He headed off in the opposite direction. He didn't pay much attention to the two nurses standing in the corridor nor did he notice Amanda Henderson joining them.

George McCafferty just shook his head at his latest patient. McCafferty wasn't even in his own hospital, but enlisted personnel were the same the world over. This one had gotten drunk and rolled his car over trying to evade the roadblock north of town. Why he had wanted to evade the roadblock was anybody's guess. The man wasn't going to be telling them for some time, assuming he lived. McCafferty had his doubts about that.

McCafferty could hear the nurses talking about the incident in the corridor beyond. "They've got the road all blocked off and they've got armed guards all around there," one was saying. "Won't let anybody within a mile of the place."

"And did you see those bodies they brought in?" the other one asked. "And the smell, I've never smelled anything that bad in all my life."

The nurses suddenly stopped talking. There was a sharp knock on the door. McCafferty looked up to see Major Gordon standing there.

"I've got another patient for you," Gordon said.

"Not another guy who thinks he can fly a car, is it?" McCafferty asked.

"Nope," Gordon assured him. "It's a Martian."

McCafferty just shook his head.

Gordon led him to the examination room, where he found a small boy with close cropped blond hair with a man McCafferty assumed to be the father. With him was a negro the physician didn't know and a familiar looking man with reddish hair.

"What seems to be the problem?" McCafferty asked.

"Our little friend here took a nasty fall," the negro answered. "He was knocked out for a little bit and we figured he ought to be checked out."

McCafferty nodded and started examining the boy. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"My head hurts," the boy answered. McCafferty started to examine him.

After a few minutes, the physician straightened up. "A mild concussion," he announced. "Keep him quiet for the next few days. If he has any other symptoms, blurred vision, a worse headache, confusion, get him over to his regular doctor."

"Doctor, you don't have to file a report on this, do you?" the father asked.

McCafferty shrugged and said. "I don't see why I need to. After all I don't even work here."

"Thanks, Doc. I owe you one," the man said. The noise level in the corridor started to rise another accident victim coming in. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Sure," McCafferty said, opening the door. He pointed further down the corridor, away from the emergency entrance. "The morgue entrance is down there. The alley connects to the parking lot."

"Thank you," the father said. He started to pick the boy up, but the child wriggled out of his arms.

"I can walk," the boy insisted, starting down the hall to the morgue. The men had to hurry to catch up with him.

"Barry," Henderson called. "Why don't you take Eddie on home? The Lieutenant and I will stay and see if we can't help out here, get a handle on this."

"You're sure?" Barry asked.

"Sure," Henderson said. "Besides, we seemed to have lost my wife. I turned around and she wasn't there."

"Okay," Barry agreed. "Call me when you're ready to leave and I'll come pick you up. Try to stay out of trouble. This is a high security base, you know."

"Miss," a man called. Mandy turned to see who it was and was surprised to recognize Doctor Fleming from the base hospital at Alamogordo. She worked in his unit. "Mrs. Henderson? What are you doing here?"

Mandy shrugged. "It's a long story," she said.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," Fleming said. "The nurse who was helping us just became ill and I need somebody to help us with finishing this last autopsy."

He took her arm and led her down the hall into the morgue's scrub room.

"It's been a long time since I attended an autopsy," she warned.

"Well, I'm sure you remember the basic procedures and I know you know your way around an operating room," Fleming assured her as she put the green hospital gown over her clothes.

The morgue autopsy room was much the same as the one at Alamogordo, tucked out of the way, with a separate entrance for the morgue wagon. It was dark and cold, with lamps over the autopsy tables. Another doctor was waiting beside the last body. Johnson was the name on his name tag. He was looking a little green.

The room stank of formaldehyde and alcohol, the stench of the dead, burnt flesh. Above it all, cutting through the normal stink, was something sharp, acrid, chemical.

"What is that smell?" she asked.

Fleming shook his head. "Their clothes," he said. "I don't know what kind of material it was, but it actually melted through their skin. The heat from that explosion must have been incredible."

"Why even bother with an autopsy?" Mandy wondered.

"General Sanders' orders," Fleming explained as he began his first incision. "He wants us to make sure they're not Russians, or aliens from outer space."

"They certainly don't look very human right now," Mandy said. The smell was almost unbearable. The heat from the plane explosion had twisted the body into an impossible position. Its hands were deformed claws. The flesh had been seared and scorched. The head was swollen and misshapen. It looked too large for the body.

"At least they died quickly," Fleming said. "It must have been nearly instantaneous."

Johnson had been examining the head and teeth. "Well, I think you can assure your CO they're not Russian. This one has a mouthful of silver amalgam fillings and two gold crowns. Nice work, too."

"How can you tell from the fillings?" Mandy asked.

"The last I heard, the Russians were using a steel composite in their dental work. Silver's too expensive for them," Johnson said. "And I seriously doubt men from Mars would be using our style of dentistry. Although I have heard people saying these four were from Mars. Have you seen the debris from their plane? It's positively weird. Almost no metal in it at all."

Mandy forced a laugh and started writing down the autopsy notes.

Charlie was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the living room, a pile of mending on her lap.

"Why didn't you go to the hospital with them?" Straker asked.

"I can't stand hospitals," Charlie explained. "Barry knows that. Besides, between Mandy and Jim and Barry, everything's under control. I wasn't needed."

"Your son might have had a different opinion on that," Straker said.

"Possibly."

They both looked up at the sound of Barry's car pulling up to the front of the house. Footsteps creaked on the porch steps and Eddie walked in, followed by Barry.

"He'll be fine, just a minor concussion," Barry said. "We need to keep him quiet the next few days." He looked around. "Where are the other kids?"

"I gave them some money to go see a movie," Charlie said.

Barry's expression darkened, but he didn't say anything to her. Instead he turned to Eddie: "Lie down on the sofa, take a nap."

"I'm not a baby. Only babies take naps," Eddie said.

"Eddie, please don't argue. Just do it," Barry said. Eddie made a face, but did as he was told. Barry headed for the kitchen. Straker followed him.

Barry pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. He offered one to Straker, who shook his head.

"No, thank you," Straker said.

"There's whiskey up in the cupboard," Barry said.

"No."

Barry shrugged and opened one bottle. He took a long pull on it.

"That won't help, you know," Straker said, very softly.

"What won't?"

"Getting drunk."

"How would you know?" Barry asked.

"You're not the only one in the world with family problems," Straker said.

"I have a wife who doesn't understand the meaning of living within our means and I have a son who hates me. He's nine and a half and he hates my guts."

"Assuming you're right, why does he hate you?"

"Because he's a spoiled brat who had everything his way while I was gone and I put a stop to it when I came back," Barry said.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"What else is there?"

"You might consider his point of view just once," Straker suggested. He managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it was a struggle. "Your son was four when you left. When you came back, you came back a stranger who demanded everyone's respect and attention, but what did you do to earn it?"

"What do you mean what did I do to earn it'?" Barry demanded. "I'm his father."

"So? Any idiot can get a woman pregnant. What have you done to show him you even care he's alive? What have you done for any of them?"

"What do I need to do?" Barry asked. "I fought four years, doing my duty, defending this country. I go to work, and I work damn hard to support them. I don't need to do anything more."

"If that's all you think it takes to be a decent parent, then I feel sorry for you, because by the time you figure it out, it'll be too late," Straker said. "But then, maybe I shouldn't bother feeling sorry for you, because you'll deserve everything you get."

Barry simply stared at him. Straker turned on his heel and walked out. He stopped in the living room and leaned against the doorframe. He had come close to losing his temper and he knew that wouldn't help. Nothing would help. The heat, the situation, everything it was getting to be too much. It was a nightmare, but it was too real to be a nightmare. The past was done, dead, gone. Nothing could change it without damaging what had to be. The tapestry was unraveling around him.

"Thank you," Charlie said softly.

"For what?"

"For trying to help," she said. "It's not his fault, really. The war changed everybody and he doesn't know what to do about it, how to react. He's a good man, really. He just doesn't know what to do. Don't hate him for that."

"Why should I hate him at all?"

She shook her head, as she continued her work. "Neither of my men are very good liars. There's something in the voice." She looked up. Her eyes were very blue. "You don't lie very well either."

"You know me so well you can tell?"

She smiled. "Do you have any children?"

"I have a daughter at home. She just turned five," Straker said.

"Any boys?"

"My son died a little over two years ago. A stupid accident. He was eight and a half."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

She bowed her head again, intent on her sewing. She looked up at the sound of Barry's footsteps on the stairs and glanced over at her son. Despite his earlier protests, he was sound asleep.

"You need a son, you know, to carry on the family name, if nothing else," she said. "There aren't many Strakers around."

Straker simply stared at her a long moment. "How . . . ?"

She looked up again. "Etienne told me. He's not a very good conversationalist, he's a cat, but he knows things. Your wife, is she a good woman?"

"Yes," he said. He wasn't going to try to explain the situation at home, that his daughter's mother was more comfortable simply living with him. But she was a good woman, understanding, compassionate, intelligent and beautiful. Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, he would lay awake and listen to her breathe, marveling at how lucky he was to have her.

"I'm glad for you," she said. "Do I know her?"

"No."

"Pity," she said. "I think I'd like to." She set aside her mending and stood up, stretching her back. He suddenly realized how tired and worn she looked. Right now, she was younger than Kate was. But Kate never looked so worn out, even after double shifts.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I told you, you're a lousy liar," she said. She walked over to him. He'd never realized how small she was. She barely reached his chin. "I do wish I could meet her. And Barbara's husband and my grandchildren."

"You haven't told any of them." It was a statement.

"Mandy knows," she said. "And I will tell them, in my own time. But, right now, there's nothing to be done. And I forbid you to tell them."

Straker managed a smile. "I won't say anything," he promised. He wouldn't tell them Charlie Straker wouldn't be there to see her children graduate from high school, see them marry, hold her grandchildren. An inoperable tumor on the underside of her brain. The fact that it was benign simply meant it wasn't growing as fast, wouldn't kill her as quickly. But she was already dying.

"You need to tell them," Straker said. "They deserve to know what's going on."

"Look at the time," she said, looking at her watch. She wouldn't look up at him. "I'd better get supper started. Do you mind checking on Barry? He's been drinking again."

"Maybe I should apologize," Straker said.

"Never apologize for being right," Charlie advised before disappearing into the kitchen.

Straker headed up the stairs.

Barry was sitting on the bed in the front bedroom Eddie's room. He was staring off into space, not really seeing anything.

"I didn't know he had all this stuff up here," Barry said. He nodded toward the shelves on the wall by the door. Two shelves were stocked with glass bottles with various liquids and powders. The bottles were neatly labeled.

"I guess he got this stuff from the neighbors. He does things around the neighborhood, gets stuff. I can't believe what he's done to that old desk," Barry said. The desk top was burned and mottled. A soldering iron sat on a ceramic plate in one corner of the desk, the cord neatly tied up. Next to the iron was a small hand built radio receiver. The antenna wire was draped out the window.

Straker inspected the chemical labels and gave a low whistle. He remembered playing with these. It was a wonder he hadn't killed everybody in the neighborhood.

"I wouldn't worry about the desk," Straker said. "But you might want to consider getting these chemicals out of here and getting him some better chemistry books." He pointed to the old texts on the shelf above. They were out of date, even for 1947. Barry stood and started pulling down the bottles.

"Barry," Straker said. "How would you feel if somebody came into your office and started hauling things out without your permission?"

"I'm his father. This is my house," Barry said. "I have a right to do this."

"I'm not talking about rights," Straker said. "I'm talking about respect."

"I'm his father."

"And he's your son. You want his respect. Doesn't he deserve the same?"

Barry put the bottles back in their place. "What if he's not okay?"

Straker had nothing to say to that.

Etienne walked in, looked around and hopped on the bed. He gave a silent meow, as if asking why these people were here. Straker let the animal sniff his hand, then scooped the Persian cat into his arms.

"I don't get it," Barry complained. "You're a total stranger and he likes you."

"You've never been around cats much, have you?" Straker asked.

Barry shook his head. "I always had dogs as a kid."

Straker scratched behind Etienne's ears. The cat began to purr, a low, rough, rumble. "Barry, did you know that most blue eyed white cats are deaf?"

"Etienne's deaf?"

"As a doorpost," Straker said. "I don't think he hates you. You scare him. You come up behind him and startle him."

Barry raised his hand to pet the cat. Etienne pulled back, but he didn't hiss this time. Cautiously, the animal sniffed the offered hand and finally allowed himself to be petted.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Barry admitted. "I just don't know where to start."

"Try listening," Straker said. "I know it's hard, but try to listen to what they're trying to tell you. It might be important, like what Eddie tried to tell you last night."

"Do you know what he wanted to tell me?"

"Yes. He wanted you to know that I was armed and dangerous, and that I had just shot down that second ship," Straker said. He let Etienne drop to the ground. "I am still armed."

"And you're still dangerous," Barry added. "I'll be happy when you've gone back to wherever you came from."

"Believe me, Barry, I don't want to stay here," Straker said.

Barry looked around his son's room once more. "Maybe we can set a lab up somewhere, get this stuff out of the house," he said, mostly to himself. "Better yet, maybe I can get him interested in something like astronomy. Something less dangerous. Maybe we could build a telescope."

"That sounds like a good idea," Straker agreed.

Henderson and Bradley found Mandy near the staff lounge. "What happened?" Henderson asked.

"Doctor Fleming asked me to help with the last autopsy," Mandy explained. "The bodies are packed in dry ice for now, until we can get them sealed up and out of here. I've never smelled anything so bad in my life. It's like they were out there for days instead of hours."

"Maybe the red suits did something?" Henderson asked. He gave Bradley a questioning look.

Bradley shook his head. "I don't know, sir."

"Well, Doctor Fleming asked me to stay and help," Mandy said. "I said I would."

"We're supposed to be on vacation," Henderson reminded her.

"I'll be back before too long," she promised, patting him on the cheek. She looked around before giving him a kiss.

A young man in civilian clothes came and stood in the doorway to the lounge. He held a bottle of Coke in one hand.

"How did you get in here?" Mandy demanded, leaving her husband and going up to the young man. "You can't be in here. You're going to get into trouble. Get out! Get out of here before they catch you and you get into big trouble. This is a high security base, you know."

She gave him a push toward the emergency room entrance. Bradley watched the confused expression on the young man's face as Major Gordon came in from outside.

"Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?" Gordon demanded, catching sight of the civilian.

"I'm with Ballard Funeral Home and I just brought a patient in," the young man stammered. "I was getting a Coke." He seemed to gather his courage. "Looks like you had a crash. I see some debris in that ambulance."

Gordon's face went grim. "You wait here," he told the young man, going to the open emergency doors and motioning for the MPs to come inside

The MPs came running.

"Get this man out of here," Gordon ordered. "Get him out of here now!"

"Just a moment," Henderson said, stepping forward. "I'm not done with that SOB yet," He gave Gordon a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Bring him back."

Gordon nodded to the MPs, who let the young man go back down the corridor, to where Henderson and Bradley were standing. He then motioned for the men to return to their posts.

"There was no crash. You didn't see anything. You don't go back to town, you don't tell anybody you saw anything," Henderson said. He was convincingly menacing.

The young man was furious. "You can't tell me what to do, I'm a civilian! You can't do anything to me, so you can go to hell!"

"Don't kid yourself, young man. Somebody'll be picking your bones out of the desert," Henderson said.

"Or maybe you'll make good dog food," Bradley added for good measure. The young man blanched and turned away. Bradley took his arm and led him out of the hospital.

Major Gordon intercepted Henderson on his way out. "What was that all about? Why are you threatening civilians?" he asked.

"It's a long story and I'll explain later, if I can, Ben," Henderson promised. "In the meantime, see if you can't keep a better lid on this thing? At the rate we're going, everybody in New Mexico's gonna know about this crash before morning."

"Assuming that's what it was," Gordon said.

Henderson shrugged. "What else could it be?"

Gordon just shook his head.

Henderson turned to Bradley. "Let's call Barry and get out of here. I'm hungry."

As promised, Barry came and got them. Charlie had a late supper on the table when they got back.

It was simple. Grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade tomato soup.

The kids were sent to bed early. It had been a full day for all of them. Straker and Bradley took care of the evening dishes.

After the dishes were done, Charlie set up a small table for bridge.

"I assume one of you knows how to play bridge," she said to Straker and Bradley. Bradley shook his head. It was a game he'd never learned.

"It's been years, but I think I remember how," Straker said. She pointed out a seat for him at the table. Henderson was his partner.

Bradley turned on the hi boy radio in the corner and listened to the news. "We have a thunderstorm watch over most of New Mexico again tonight," the announcer said before going back to the network programming. It was an old radio play Bradley had never heard of before.

The program was nearly over when the lights began to flicker. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Straker checked his watch. "Mark, would you mind going out to the car and getting one of those boxes out of the back? The one marked with a caduceus?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley said. Straker pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them to the astronaut.

Bradley found the box, and a flashlight, without any trouble and returned to the house. He handed the box to Straker as the lights flickered again and then went out. There was an anguished wail from upstairs: "Momma!"

"Barry, there are candles in the kitchen," Charlie said as she opened one of the bookcase doors. She pulled out a candle and lit it. Barry headed to the kitchen for more candles.

"I'll check on the kids," Charlie called, making her way down the hallway and up the stairs.

Straker set the flashlight on the table and opened the small box. Inside were a sealed syringe and a small vial of dark green liquid. Straker tore away the plastic protecting the needle and filled the syringe.

"What is that?" Henderson asked.

"Something to help you forget," Straker answered. "My group has developed a drug we find useful in security situations. It creates amnesia covering the previous twelve hours."

"Why?"

"What you can't remember, you can't tell," Straker said. He nodded to Bradley. He understood. The black astronaut grabbed Henderson's wrist, turning his arm to expose the inside of his elbow. Straker was quick. Henderson barely had time to gasp as the needle went into the vein. It was over in a second.

"You'll take a little nap and when you wake up, this day will be little more than a bad dream," Straker said. Henderson's eyes were already beginning to close. Straker helped Bradley get the man to the sofa before he lost consciousness. The vial and syringe went back into the box and into Straker's jacket pocket.

The next nursing shift had finally arrived. Mandy and several other nurses headed over to the officers' club for dinner before heading home.

"Look at that storm," one of them said. "Not gonna be a fit night for man nor beast."

"I've never seen green lightning before," another one said before the rain drove them indoors.

The ambulance driver, Dennis, was sitting with one of the nurses getting ready to come on shift. She saw them walk in, waved and headed out into the storm.

The young man came over to their table. "Hi Suzy, what's up?" he said to the young blonde sitting next to Mandy.

"Busy day," Suzy said.

"Anything more on that crash?" Dennis asked conspiratorially.

"We're not supposed to talk about that," Mandy warned.

"Come on," Dennis said. "I know what I saw and nobody is going to tell me I didn't."

"We're still not supposed to talk about it."

"Didn't you help on the autopsies?" Suzy asked. Mandy nodded.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Never smelled anything so bad in my life. It was horrible, and those bodies." She shuddered. Now that it was over, she could afford the luxury of overreacting. "I swear they weren't even human."

"Suzy!" a young lieutenant called from the bar. Suzy excused herself and went over to him. Mandy was left alone with the young man.

"Martians?" he asked. His eyes were wide with excitement.

"I don't know," Mandy said. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see how late it was. "Look, I'm really tired and I need to get home." She stood to leave.

"Hey, thanks for trying to keep me out of trouble," he said.

"It was nothing," she said.

"Can I call you sometime?" he asked. She shook her head ever so slightly. He was cute but much too young, besides she was a happily married woman.

"Just to talk," he added.

"I'm staying with the Strakers for the week," she said, beginning to walk away.

"Wait," he called. "I don't even know your name."

"Gretchen Schmidt," Mandy lied, giving the name of an army nurse she knew. Gretchen had just been transferred to England. She was engaged to an aeronautical engineer named Foster.

The storm grew closer. Lightning flashed between the clouds. Bradley looked out the living room window. The clouds were an evil black and green.

"Commander, that storm is back," Bradley said.

Straker didn't seem surprised. "It's time to go then."

"What about Mrs. Henderson?" Bradley asked.

"I don't think we can wait."

Barry walked in, holding a candle. "You're leaving in this weather?"

"It's time," Straker said.

"Where are you heading?"

"Home, I hope," Straker answered.

"What if somebody comes looking for you?" Barry asked.

"They won't," Straker said. "We were never here. None of this ever happened. Make sure Mrs. Henderson understands that."

"What about Jim?" Barry wondered. He nodded to his friend, suddenly asleep on the sofa.

"He'll be fine," Straker said. "Just overtired. I'm sure he won't remember most of this when he wakes up."

Charlie came back down the stairs. She stepped over to the two SHADO officers and gave each one a hug. She gently touched Straker's face.

"Take care of yourself."

"I will," Straker promised. The lightning grew closer, the thunder louder.

"We have to go."

The two strangers were gone. Barry looked down at his wife. There were tears on her cheeks. They glistened in the candlelight.

"What's wrong?"

"Barry, we need to talk," she said.