Douglas Bunger's Blaze Of Glory

Chapter 43



 
 
 
    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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