Only with rare exception are we able to recognize the moments in our lives, that through there transpiring will have a profound significance on our very existence, and that is where we find Joe and Bart Duncan, as they head home from Corona travelling east along 247, through the New Mexican desert in August of 1947.
The headlights set the road in front of them ablaze, and the gentle hum of tires on smooth asphalt lulls Joe into a dangerous, hypnotic trance. A cloud of soft desert dust puffs up around the truck as it veered slightly onto the shoulder. Bart’s cry of dismay awakened Joe to a state of semi-consciousness, and he fishtailed regaining the road. He looked over at Bart wanting to apologize and could see that he was already back to ticking the constellations off on his fingers as they passed beneath them. His eyes stared up into the night sky mouth stretched wide in a child’s gleeful grin. Joe stole a final glance at his brother and took pleasure in the delightful way the stars reflected back up to the heavens in his eyes. His fingers danced over the radio as he filled his lungs with a deep relaxing breath and cursed himself for almost falling asleep. The radio broadcast drifted into the cab, and Joe thought “Could have punched our ticket there, damn have to be more careful.” Then that thought was gone replaced with annoyance that they were still talking about that “saucer” in Corona and Joe reached out and twisted the volume knob back down.
“Awe, c’mon Joe lemme listen.”
“I’m tired of hearing about it. It was a weather balloon; the sheriff in Corona told me so himself. All of this nonsense about a crashed ship is just that.
“Nonsense.”
“You really believe that?”
“Of course I do, and if people don’t get ahold of themselves; it’s going to spiral out of control like that damn Orson Welles broadcast on Halloween a few years ago.”
“I dah know. There’s a lot of stars up there.” His eyes flash back to the sky. “A whole lotta stars; a whole lotta suns.”
“What’s that about the sun?”
Bart smiled back at his brother, and he shook his head “Not the sun but a million suns.”
Joe thought there might be more but there wasn’t. He considered asking him what he meant by a million suns and then decided against it, better to let well enough alone otherwise he was apt to start him off on one of his tirades. His thoughts returned to tomorrows work, three of his cows were ready to birth their calves, and Wyatt Stonehill was due to come and make payment for the bull he purchased last week. It was going to be a busy day for Joe Duncan, and still an hour on the road before he could rest.
Up ahead the road was dark and straight as it always was on this little New Mexican blacktop. Nothing but the moon, if you were lucky enough to have a cloudless sky, and the Chevy’s lights to illuminate the way. Not that there was much to see just a massive infinite desert wasteland stretching out across the horizon.
He had a moment to think of how vast the desert was, seemingly endless. From there his thoughts went to the state of New Mexico, the United States, the Earth, and the stars beyond; he wondered if Bart may be right, or at least not altogether wrong in believing that other life may exist somewhere out there. For the second time tonight Joe Duncan found himself lost in a trance; he wasn’t falling asleep this time just lost in own thoughts, and what grand thoughts they were. Was this what having an epiphany was like?
“Coyote,” Bart’s eyes no longer glued to the sky; stared head tilted slightly to the right and watched the desert rush by.
“Coyote? What?”
The word meant nothing to him, he was still out amongst the stars, struggling to hang onto whatever truth he found but it was slipping away the way a dream will upon waking. The thought evaporated, and he understood there was a coyote in the road.
“Oh hell.” He slammed down on the breaks, and the scream of rubber on asphalt tore into the night; the putrid smell of melted tires flooded the cab, and he watched as Bart slid forward bouncing off the dash.
The truck skidded fifteen yards before coming to a rest a few inches from the coyote. It stared at them through the windshield and did not move.
In the next moment, the radio came to life, and a disembodied voice cried out before quickly degrading into a harsh blare of static. The truck’s engine died.
“A shooting star.”
“What the hell?”
They spoke over one another.
A flash of light filled the sky and night became day. The windows in the truck rattled, and the coyote fled.
BOOM!
In what Joe Duncan believed were the final moments of his life he thought of Alamogordo and the weapon tests that would ultimately win his country the war.
Then came another explosion as something struck the desert earth fifty yards off the side of the road. Bart left the passenger door ajar as he raced off into the desert. Joe yelled for his brother and cranked the keys but was met with silence. Then as if nothing had happened the truck’s lights blazed back to life, and the radio shot out a burst of static and the engine purred under the hood. In his surprise, Joe’s foot slid off the clutch and the truck stalled. He tried the ignition again, and this time it started on the first try.
Bart was already out of sight. Boy, could he move when he wanted to, and nothing fascinated him more than wonders from the sky, and Joe thought with all this desert, what were the odds that some damn thing would crash anywhere near his brother.
“Just another weather balloon.” He said aloud.
What about the light Joe? He trembled and the vein in his neck pulsed with grotesque speed. After a few deep breaths, he threw the truck in gear and pulled off the road and into the desert. He navigated with care swerving often and moved faster than he would have liked, but Bart was up ahead and would be at the crash site by now, Joe was sure of it; what he was doing, though, he couldn’t guess. Inky darkness swallowed the truck as Joe continued through the desert.
Bart stood and stared down at the vessel not much larger than his brother’s Chevy with an expression of thunderstruck awe. His entire life he had gazed up at the night sky and never in all the endless hours had seen even the slightest hint of something as familiar as a shooting star and here sat before him a genuine unidentified flying object, and he thought “not a weather balloon this time Joe.”
After a few moments, enough of the smoke had blown away that Bart felt confident he could climb down the gentle slope of the blasted desert and take a closer look. Bart looked over his shoulder and tried to spot Joe’s approach but saw no sign of his brother. One deep breath later and he was down in the pit, hands stretched out over the ship in the way someone may hold their hands above a fire on a cold winter night. There was no heat coming off the craft, and it seemed to be intact. His hand inched closer to the smooth hull, and he felt pulsing energy emitted that made the hairs on his arms stand straight. Given another moment Bart would indeed have touched the ship without a thought of the danger it may possess, but the sound of Joe’s approach caused him to pause.
Joe drove up fast and almost went into the abyss; he couldn’t believe that whatever it was hadn’t exploded into a million pieces on impact. The truck sat idling as Joe hopped out of the cab and hurried to the edge of the crater.
“Bart. You answer me if you can hear me now.” A single moment stretched out for what felt to Joe like an eternity, and when he thought the silence would drive him insane, he heard a voice.
“I’m down here. You have to come and see this Joe. It’s amazing.”
“I don’t think so, you need to get back up here before the authorities show up. We’re going to end up in one of those damn detention centers if they find you messing with their top secret crap.”
“This ain’t no weather balloon. It’s made of metal for sure. C’mon down and see for yourself.”
Joe realized that the only way he was going to get Bart out of this damn crater anytime soon was if he went down and pulled him out but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get close to the thing. The idea frightened him, and for a brief moment, he considered abandoning his brother to whatever fate may await him, and then cursed himself for the second time tonight. He felt the shame of his cowardice burning in his gut and climbed down into the hole ready to face whatever may come next as long as he didn’t have to face it alone or make Bart face it alone.
They stood shoulders touching and stared at the ship. Joe watched as Bart went to press his palms against the smooth metal and swatted them away brushing his own hands against the hull as he did. There was an immediate surge of electricity as his hands made contact and he felt every hair on his body spring to life.
“Wow!” Joe’s hand jerked back. “We have to get out of here Bart. C’mon now one foot in front of the other.”
“It’s not a balloon Joe.”
“No. It’s not a balloon. To be honest, brother, I don’t think it’s for us to know what it is. So what do you say we get out of here before someone who knows what it is, shows up and hauls are asses off to jail?”
The idea of punishment startled Bart but only for a moment. “Why would they haul us off, we didn’t do nothing; did we?”
“No I don’t think we did, but sometimes I don’t think it matters.”
Joe began to turn back towards the crater wall when a loud hissing escaped the ship. It continued to vent sending a gaseous mist up into the air around them, before crashing down in waves and settling over them. He watched this happen with growing horror and through the fog saw the top of the ship slid open. A figure was moving on the other side of the gloom, and it looked to Joe like whatever it was it was wearing a very advanced diving apparatus.
The creatures head was covered by a glass-like bowl and its body clothed in a thick rubber suit. Joe could see a million flickering lights, buttons, and gizmos in the ship’s cockpit as the being lurched forward and fell from the cabin. Its hands moved towards the helmet and made a twisting gesture followed by more hissing and brief venting of gas. Bart reached out to help the humanoid steady itself and caught it under one of its arms. Joe tried to stop Bart, but he was quick when he wanted to be, and his hands were firmly planted before Joe could do more than notice an American and English flag imprinted on the left shoulder.
When its helmet slid off both Joe and Bart gasped in unison.
“Wheh…en?” A single distorted word escaped its mouth and then silence.
The sound of approaching vehicles broke the trance that held Joe in place, and he grabbed for Bart meaning to carry him out of the pit this time if he needed too.
“We have to go now!”
So the two brothers hurried up the crater’s wall and dashed towards Joe’s truck. The sound of an army caravan grew louder in volume, and Joe wanted to be out of here before it got any closer. Once they were both situated back inside the cab, Joe depressed the clutch and threw the truck in gear and turned the lights off and set off through the desert keeping an eye in the rearview mirror for anyone following. He was grateful it had been a rainless few weeks and thought there was a good chance the desert hardpan would leave no evidence that they had been here. They drove in silence for a few miles, and neither spoke until they regained the road and were once again headed towards home.
“Gee-sus Joe. That was a man,” and before he could respond “A human man.”
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I love this work, ZBERG. This is great. It is pretty well-paced, only minor grammatical errors, and it is damn entertaining. I wish the authorities hadn’t arrived when they did, or I wish the brothers had grabbed the passenger when they ran. What an unfortunate (and therefore perfect) time to end the tale!
I think the most striking part is this bit of dialogue:
“No. It’s not a balloon. To be honest, brother, I don’t think it’s for us to know what it is. So what do you say we get out of here before someone who knows what it is, shows up and hauls are asses off to jail?”
The idea of punishment startled Bart but only for a moment. “Why would they haul us off, we didn’t do nothing; did we?”
“No I don’t think we did, but sometimes I don’t think it matters.”
It is interesting that Joe doesn’t think of this wonder as something they should know about. Where did he develop that attitude? It’s a very real attitude for some people to have, but I think it’s a taught philosophy, that there are some things you shouldn’t know about. Is this an attitude ingrained in us by a big government philosophy? Tells us something about Joe. It also tells us of at least the beginnings of mistrust in the government when he implies that he believes that the government would arrest or detain them even if they didn’t do anything wrong. I like Joe as a character, and I especially like him as contrasted with his naive brother, Bart. Well done!
Thank you for reading. I finished parts 4 and 5 of Tales from the Dead Lands a moment ago; I hope you keep up the excellent work AEParker007.
As for Joe and Bart Duncan, I struggled with how I wanted to present them. What I do know about the Duncan brothers: Joe is older, a hard worker, and responsible for Bart. Bart is a bit more simple-minded perhaps even on the spectrum. He may not be able to execute every task or make sense of certain things but has an uncanny ability to recall, memorize, and learn the stars constellations.
I feel his fear of the authorities is witnessing something he doesn’t feel was meant for them to see. They are close enough to the site of the Trinity weapons tests for Joe to believe that what he witnessed had been another atomic bomb. There would also be the internment of Japanese American citizens during the Second World War to spread the fear that even in the 1940’s not being guilty doesn’t always mean not being in trouble.
Thanks again for reading and the critique, even as I finished this piece there was something nagging me about the characters, and you’ve given me something to think about for when I get back into this story.