This is a short story based upon the experience of a Cytologist that was called in to investigate a strange crash in New Mexico during July 1947.
Chapter 1
The sour black coffee aroma moisturizes the tip of my nose. It’s quite hot but I try to sip some of it. I’m fumbling around now with the large cream-coloured cup and my hand trembles slightly as I learn to balance the cup with my index finger and thumb.
This is attracting attention now and I can feel the stares of others.
To my right there are two men sitting at a table – bikers in their late 40’s, with their dark thick leather attire. My eyes shift in their direction as I catch a quick glimpse of them watching me. The most prominent feature of the two men was their thick wiry beard that was combed to give them that rough terrain look. It interested me to figure out what they were up to at this time of the morning. But I could definitely get their intention that they were regulars and that they knew I wasn’t a local.
I took a deep breath and sighed in relief as I realized that there was no need to pretend that I was from around here. My hands were clasping the cup now and I turned to look out of the window on my left. The sun hadn’t risen yet and it was giving the whole desert area outside a sort of twilight feeling. I checked my watch and saw that it was 5:02a.m in the Nevada desert.
It was nearly time to leave and I gave a quick glance outside at my transport waiting next to the bikes. I was being escorted in a Hummer H2 by two U.S Armed Force personnel. They were rigidly trained and I had invited them to have some breakfast with me but they declined as they were supposed to fulfil their mission of transporting me to some base. They were watching me now as they did so ten minutes ago. Outstanding watchdogs of the Armed Force. It was amazing how I had to talk them into letting me have some breakfast after dragging me out of my bed at 4:10 am.
It was a single phone call from the Secretary General of the Defence Force that took me from my place in Washington to the outskirts of the hot Nevada Desert. His voice was anxious with urgency and that only meant one thing, I was going on an important mission.
“Dr. Weiss?” the Secretary General asked.
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