Melanie's second safehouse was a cabin that was owned
by a hunting club to which her father belonged. She had
asked him to make reservations for her and let her borrow
his key, but had hoped they wouldn't have to use it because
the club owned three other cabins on the same land. Several
of the club members were friends of her father's and knew
her by sight. As long as they didn't see anyone she knew,
they shouldn't have any trouble.
Due to the lack of paved roads in the area, the trip to
the cabin took nearly two hours. Brad rode in the passenger
seat and kept a close eye on Ralston, who seemed content to
converse with the alien. Ralston's cooperation was
reassuring to Brad, because the long hours without sleep
were beginning to take their toll on him. He hoped that
Ralston would understand the necessity of his mission, but
was not about to let his guard down.
On a few occasions, Brad tried to talk to Melanie, but
he found she was not receptive to his statements. He tried
to explain that he was right, that going public was the best
thing to do, but she never took her eyes from the road.
Initially, he'd been concerned that she might side with
Ralston and that they might help the alien escape, but he
soon decided that deep down, Melanie knew he was right. For
some reason, she was just having trouble realizing the
truth.
They arrived at the cabin about two PM and were glad to
find the other cabins vacant. Ralston held a blanket over
Roger to shield his eyes from the sun, and helped him
inside. The alien retreated to a dark corner of the room,
Melanie and Ralston fell onto chairs in the den. Brad held
the revolver in his hand and nervously paced the floor. He
wanted desperately to sit on the couch and relax, but he
knew he'd fall asleep and Ralston would take his gun.
Brad's eyes were drawn to Melanie as she relaxed in the
large upholstered chair. He examined her face and noticed
that after all they'd been through-- the long hours, the
stress, the hundreds of miles of driving-- she was still
beautiful. Her skin was ivory smooth, her lashes long and
thick without mascara, her lips red without lipstick... As
much as Brad usually dreaded the thought, Melanie was the
kind of girl he could spend his life with. When this was
over, and he'd written his story (maybe a book, too), he
intended to spend a great deal of time with her.
He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath.
He remembered the feel of her skin when he ran his hand up
the back of her sweatshirt, and the way her lips pulled at
his own. She looked so beautiful, so relaxed, so at peace.
Wait a minute...
What was the alien doing?
Brad spun to face Roger. Roger blinked his large,
empty, black eyes and cocked his head like a curious dog
listening to a strange sound. Brad's gaze fell again upon
Melanie. He watched her deep breathes--
"Get up!" yelled Brad. He grabbed Melanie by the arm
and pulled her from the chair.
"Let go of me!" Ralston jumped from his chair, shocked
and confused by Brad's sudden outburst. Melanie broke free
of Brad's grasp and fell against Ralston. "What is wrong
with you!" she screamed.
"I know what you were trying to do," responded Brad,
pointing the gun at the others. "You were trying to
communicate with the alien by telepathy. You wanted it to
hypnotize me so you could get the gun and help him escape.
That's what you were trying to do: wasn't it?"
"The alien doesn't want to escape, Brad," stated
Melanie, rubbing her twisted wrist and settling into
Ralston's grasp. "If he escaped, someone other than the
military might find him and make his presence known. In
case you forgot, he doesn't want the world to know about
him."
"Bullshit! You're just trying to weasel out of the
truth. The two of you are in this together-- I expected
better from you."
"Dartmouth, I tried to get Roger to hypnotize you in
the van. He doesn't want me to overpower you. God only
knows why..." Ralston returned to his place on the couch,
and Melanie sat beside him.
"Your friend is too quick to accept force as an
alternative. I feel it is best for me to convince you that
I must go back, otherwise you may continue to jeopardize the
program. He says you are insane, beyond reasoning. Is this
true?" asked Roger.
"Ralston's just like all the rest. A perfect example
of the soldier mentality. I don't know how I could have
thought I could trust him. The Air Force screws him over,
makes him look like a fool, and he still accepts their
authority."
"The Air Force didn't screw me. I reacted to quickly
without thinking about the consequences of my statements.
As for the Air Force's authority, I have enough common sense
to realize that the government has reasons for keeping
certain things secret. If they don't want people to know
about the aliens, then I have to accept their judgment.
After all, they know the whole story."
"You're a simpleton Ralston! The politicians are
collecting information on you as fast as their computers can
suck it in, but they're keeping things like this a secret.
It's all part of their way of controlling people. Someone
has to keep the government honest: that's what reporters and
lawyers are for."
"Now who's being a simpleton?" fired Ralston. "You're
not doing this for the good of the people. Lawyers don't
attack public servants out of concern for truth or honesty.
It's greed, Dartmouth! Money, power, fame-- that's what
you're after."
Brad placed his hand on his head and paced the floor.
"You don't understand; not one single bit. Someone has to
teach these people that they can't get away with this kind
of thing. If we let them take an inch, eventually they'll
take a mile. They have no right to dictate what knowledge
is too dangerous for the people."
"But you do?" asked Melanie.
"What?"
"You stand here and accuse the government of playing
God with this knowledge, yet if you force Roger to go
public, you are deciding that this information can't hurt
when it might actually be very destructive."
"That's ridiculous. Don't you see how crazy that is?
How can a piece of information be dangerous? How can the
knowledge of Roger's existence hurt anyone?"
"Dartmouth, listen to yourself!" responded Ralston.
"When you take this public, you fully expect the news to
topple our government. You're hoping for Senate inquiries,
public prosecutors, high-level resignations. That's your
goal."
"Yes, but they deserve what they'll get. They had no
right to act as they did."
"What about the rest of the people on Earth?" inquired
the alien. "Do they deserve to be destroyed to satisfy one
man's vision of truth? Let me try to explain our point of
view to you once again. Consider that my view is filtered
through the mind of an economist: I think in terms of supply
and demand. As an economist, I see danger to your planet if
trade were established between our worlds."
"My world is technologically superior to your own; our
ability to travel between the stars is evidence of that.
For this reason, there is little that you produce that we
need. Our digestive system cannot consume food grown on
your planet. Our thinking is not greatly influenced by
trends or fashions, so it unlikely that Earth clothing would
fare well in our marketplace. Truthfully, the trade would
be rather one sided."
"On our world, the computers used by school children
are thousands of times more powerful than those being
manufactured by humans. Even considering the shipping
costs, these units would be less expensive. It stands to
reason, that humans would buy our systems rather than yours.
Think about how many jobs would be lost because no company
on the planet could compete. Think of the consequences when
the largest company in America crumbled overnight."
"The same would be true of automobiles. Why buy a
vehicle that is restricted to the ground, requires frequent
refueling with petroleum by-products, and has a short life
expectancy, when a 'flying saucer' manufactured off planet
would cost only twice as much. Soon, the millions employed
by the automobile manufacturers would be without jobs, and
more of your nation's largest companies would be out of
business. The millions of people employed by the petroleum
industry would be out of work. Your country is still
suffering from the small technological lead that Japan has.
Imagine the consequences if that lead were hundreds of time
what it is."
"I don't buy it," snorted Brad. "Your whole scenario
is based on the thought that humans are stupid. We're not!
You paint this picture of doom and gloom, but I see a world
without starvation and war. A world unified in the
knowledge that we must advance ourselves to be equals with
our neighbors in the universe."
"My mate is a sociologist. It is accepted among the
sociologists who have studied your culture, that the news
would not be accepted well. Many of your movies depict
aliens as invaders. Your people are naturally suspicious,
perhaps paranoid. Humans do not trust each other, they do
not trust their own government, so they will not trust us."
"Perhaps their mistrust will drive them to arm
themselves against us. This would not be a threat until
these arms were carried to the stars. If such a thing did
happen, we would have to defend ourselves at your expense.
These are the reasons why you must take me back to the
camp."
"No," stated Brad flatly, "What I'm doing is right.
Asher will be here with the reporters any minute. They'll
tell you I'm right." Brad continued to pace, his brain a
hodge-podge of thoughts. The more he thought, the more
confused he became. Why had everyone turned against him?
No... Why had Melanie turned against him?
She had told him that he would accomplish great things.
She had supported him through the operation. Surely she
hadn't been persuaded by the aliens statements. What could
he possibly know about human thinking. He thought he was so
damned superior. No, it wasn't Roger... It was Ralston.
First, it had been Baker trying to steal her from him,
now it was Ralston. What was wrong with her? Couldn't she
see he was trying to come between them? He'd managed to get
her on the couch with him, and now he had his arm around
her. He probably told her that he was going to protect her
from him. How could she have fallen for such a stupid ploy.
He thought she was better than that. He should shoot
Ralston right now.
Brad stopped pacing long enough to look at his watch.
"What the hell is taking Asher so long?" he asked.
"Asher's dead," offered Melanie. Ralston twisted to
look at Melanie in total amazement. Brad stared in
disbelief. "It's a long story-- it has to do with auras."
Noticing the looks on the men's faces, she continued.
"An aura is energy emitted from the brain. When the
energy falls too low to be seen, the person dies. There's
nothing anyone can do to stop it; it wouldn't have done any
good to warn Asher, he would have died anyway."
"I don't believe it," grunted Brad, and he continued to
pace.
"How long have you known?" asked Ralston.
"Since just before we left."
"What about us? Are we okay?" Ralston asked uneasily.
Melanie closed her eyes and slumped into the couch.
"Like I said: it wouldn't do any good to warn you. When
your aura goes, you go."
Melanie's answer did not comfort Ralston in the least.
"Do you hear that, Dartmouth. No Asher. That means no
reporters. No reporters, no story."
"You're wrong, man," commanded Brad, with a point of
his pistol. "All that means is that we do it a different
way. I was hoping for a controlled setting to conduct the
interview. If Asher doesn't get here in an hour, we drive
to Ely and try to contact the editor of their newspaper."
Ralston couldn't believe Dartmouth's pigheadedness.
"Asher's the only one that's kept you out of trouble this
long," yelled Ralston defiantly.
"Asher's not dead," stated Brad. Ralston returned to
the couch and cursed himself for not charging Dartmouth. He
racked his brain for some kind of plan. If the alien
wouldn't hypnotize Dartmouth, there was no way Ralston could
get the gun without being shot. Dartmouth had been lucky so
far, there was always the possibility he might kill Ralston.
Dying wouldn't accomplish anything, and the way Melanie had
sidestepped the aura question made death Ralston's number
one concern.
After half an hour, Ralston turned on the small black
and white TV. He had to play with the antennae for several
moments before he got a picture, which was still covered
with snow. Brad continued to pace, and Ralston continued to
wait for him to relax. If Dartmouth would close his eyes
for just a moment, Ralston could get the gun and put an end
to the whole affair. It was just a matter of time...
At five thirty the local news caught the attention of
the crowd with its lead story. Brad stopped pacing, Ralston
moved closer to the set, and Melanie listened to the news
she had already known. The story reported that a group of
White Supremacists had been hiding in a rented cabin near
Caliente with a stolen helicopter and a cache of automatic
weapons. Federal authorities, with assistance of a special
military anti-terrorist unit, raided the cabin killing one
of the extremists. Another member of the organization
attempted to escape in the helicopter, but was killed when
his aircraft crashed shortly after takeoff.
Brad's eyes met Ralston's. For the first time, he felt
alone: there would be no reporters, no help from Asher, even
Wilson was dead. It was up to Brad. He had to do it alone.
Ralston stood, never taking his eyes off Brad.
"No, Ralston," cried Melanie. She maneuvered in front
of the man, but Ralston took her arm in one hand and tossed
her to the couch.
"Dartmouth, you shit! It's over," announced Ralston,
as he closed on Brad. "Drop the gun."
"I'll kill you," yelled Brad, trying hard to keep the
gun from shaking.
In a blinding flash of movement, Ralston dove for the
gun. Brad tried to step to the side, but it was to late.
Ralston had one hand on Brad's arm and was fighting to
control him. Brad had no time to aim.
A single shot echoed through the cabin, and Ralston
staggered away from Brad. He grabbed desperately for Brad's
clothing, but seized only empty space, then toppled to the
floor. Ralston doubled over and placed his hand on his
wounded leg. He pushed with his left foot, without success,
then settled to the floor. The bullet had struck the bone
and broken his leg.
"Brad!" yelled Melanie sharply. "Look at what you've
done. You could have killed him! Is that what you wanted
to do? Are you going to kill him now that he's lying there
defenseless?"
"He came at me... I had no choice."
Melanie moved between Brad and Ralston. "This has gone
far enough," she demanded. "We were wrong, Brad. You've
got to accept that we were wrong!" Melanie took a step
toward Brad.
"No."
"Yes, Brad. Now give me the gun or kill me, too."
"Melanie," called Ralston through gritted teeth, "He's
insane, leave him alone."
Melanie took a second step toward the barrel of the
gun. "How many people have to tell you that you're wrong?
How many people have to die to satisfy your self-righteous
view of right and wrong? Or is it greed, Brad? Are you
really trying to save the world, or are you taking a short
cut to fame and fortune at the expense of others? If I'm
wrong kill me-- if I'm right, give me the gun."
Brad's body trembled, he stepped away from Melanie, but
she kept coming closer. He looked at the alien. The
government had lied, there was a cover-up, and Melanie
expected him to just walk away from the biggest story of his
life.
"Roger... You could have stopped me from shooting
Ralston. You could have hypnotized me."
"Yes, I could. The project is too important. My life
is meaningless compared to what could happen to this planet.
Your friend realized this of himself, that is why he risked
himself. You must realize this, also. Nothing in your life
is more important than this opportunity for your people and
mine. This project cannot be jeopardized. You must accept
this in your own mind, as have your friends."
Melanie reached for Brad's hand, and took the weapon.
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