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| Author: |
doris ray |
| Dated: |
Friday, April 15 2005 @ 03:12 PM EDT |
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On an unusually warm night in late August after the haying season had ended but while the grain crops still remained unharvested in the fields, Mildred Thomas awoke from a sleep that had been brought on by sheer exhaustion only a few hours earlier. The upper floor of the two-story farmhouse retained the heat of the day like a thermos and Mildred—menopausal as she was—had tossed and turned for hours. No danger of rousing Jake her husband of thirty-five years. As usual he slept like a hibernating bear in winter. Snored like one too.
Mildred decided that this year she might even welcome winter despite the six month season in the BC Central Interior. It had been a hot dry summer and snow sounded like a comfortable alternative. If at any time she yearned for the sight of green grass, she could always spend time with daughter Debbie and family at the Coast. Right now, Mildred was sick and tired of grass in any shape or form. She had been on the tractor all summer long, cutting and baling the stuff that grew on their three hundred and twenty acre mostly cleared farm. That, on top of housecleaning and making meals for Jake and their youngest son Clarence. He had really not pulled his weight around the place this summer, but he would be off to college soon. She knew she’d miss him. Clarence had driven into town this evening to say goodbye to his friends. By now he should be sleeping comfortably, Mildred thought with a twinge of jealousy. His room was on the other side of the house and didn’t get the heat from the afternoon sun.
Her bedroom window was open wide and the outside air was finally beginning to cool the indoor temperature. Mildred pulled the top sheet up for protection from the chill she knew would come with the dawn. Jake slept beside her naked as a jaybird, oblivious to all sensory changes. His wife curled up on her side, envying him to the point where she almost hated him. She was dog-tired but not able to slip back into slumber. She could hear a humming sound coming from somewhere. Perhaps her hearing was improving and it was the refrigerator downstairs? Now Mildred detected a faint but distinctly foul odor. As it became more pronounced, she realized it was coming in through the window. A burnt chemical odor—worse than the smell of burning garbage! It was probably wafting in from the molybdenum mine that was sixty kilometers or so to the west. God only knew what they burned off up there in the dead of night! She threw herself out of bed and slammed the window shut. Jake never changed the tone of his snoring but Rex, one of their two dogs, began to bark excitably. From far away at the next farm she could hear a bevy of canine replies.
At 2:30 am eighteen-year-old Clarence Thomas herded his father’s pickup truck between the gateposts and switched off the headlights. With his hands on the steering wheel but driving blind, he allowed the front tires to seek out the contours of the dark winding driveway.
“I hope I can walk as well as I can drive,” Clarence giggled to himself, his inebriated brain believing he’d made it home safely because of skill, not just pure luck. He had exceeded by more than two hours the curfew limit set by his father. If Jake even suspected that his son had over-indulged in alcoholic spirits and then driven the pickup home while in a less than sober state of mind, there’d be hell to pay.
Clarence parked well away from the lighted presence of the farmhouse. As far as he could tell, from beneath the darkness of a clouded sky, he was near the barn and the horse pasture. Cautiously, he opened the truck’s door and attempted the arduous journey down from the driver’s seat. He tripped over his own feet and fell heavily to the ground. He lay there, face crumpled in gravel and horse dung. His head hurt, and the earth was spiraling. Then, his stomach rebelled.
The cloud cover that had obscured the light from a three-quarters waxing moon began to disperse and the farm buildings, trees, and landscape were suddenly illuminated. Clarence opened his eyes and rolled away from his befouled resting-place. He could hear tiny whimperings coming from nearby. Rex, the Labrador retriever, and a smaller nondescript mongrel he had named George were both gazing at him solicitously. They couldn't have cared less that their human hero was layered in dirt and puke, as well as blood from a facial wound, and that he reeked of stale alcohol. When they saw that Clarence was alive and reasonably well, their tails became wildly animated. The young man’s heart warmed in gratitude.
“Any guy whose dogs think he’s great can’t be all that bad,” he consoled himself. But deep down he knew better. He’d been a jerk this evening and, in fact, been one all summer long. By all rights his parents should disown him.
Clarence rose unsteadily to his feet and discovered he was able to place one foot in front of the other despite being dizzy and experiencing pain—both on the inside and the outside of his skull. What he desperately needed now was a shower. But he knew he dare not enter the house in the shape he was in. His dad was a heavy sleeper but his mother would detect his presence the moment he walked through the door, especially if he stumbled and fell. Clarence decided to find his way to the big slough where he had learned to swim as a youngster. It was only about a half a kilometer away and the trail would be easy to see in the bright moonlight.
Ten minutes later he approached the round brightly-moonwashed pond. A breeze riffled through the trees stirring up silvery ripples on the water. Rex was already splashing happily amongst the reeds. George had stayed behind. The little dog, which had showed up at the Thomas’s door about a year ago, was probably older than he looked. Clarence was enjoying the view and feeling quite sober as he doffed his clothing and prepared to ease his muscular teenage body into the warm, tea-colored water.
Two large objects swooped through the sky only about ten or fifteen meters above his head. Glowing red beacons outlined their dome shaped peripheries and ribbons of rainbow-hued lights emanated sporadically from what appeared to be revolving sets of windows. Clarence could hear a dull humming sound and a foul burning-chemical odor permeated the air. He dived headlong into the water. Rex leaped for the shore where he barked and growled for a full five minutes.
Mildred peered at the clock. It was 3:15 am and Jake was still snoring up a storm. In less than two hours it would be daybreak and he’d be wanting his breakfast. There was no use trying for any more sleep. She tiptoed downstairs, the moonlight shining through unshaded windows guiding her way.
She peered out the kitchen window and with a sense of relief spotted the truck half way up the driveway.
“Why on earth does Clarence park way back there?” Mildred asked herself. Last week he had mentioned something about stray cows blocking his way. She wondered what story he’d come up with this time. Oh well, at least he was home and in one piece. Some of the kids he hung out with were known for their drinking. Clarence prided himself on being the designated driver but a mother could never be sure.
The little dog George was rolling around out there in the dirt. It almost looked as if he were trying to remove his fancy collar. Perhaps he was suffering from ear mites? Mildred made a mental note to check him out tomorrow. At the moment she was dying for a cup of tea. She plugged the electric kettle in and got the teabags out.
Mildred knew she shouldn’t but who would know? She stealthily removed two large store-bought doughnuts from their package, munching them contentedly along with sipping her tea. The doughnuts didn’t taste half as good as homemade ones so they probably weren’t as fattening. “And anyway,” Mildred defended herself to her own conscience, “I’ll probably skip breakfast.”
Glancing out the window Mildred could see the first tiny glimmerings of approaching daylight along the horizon. All of a sudden a couple of airplanes or else helicopters with red flashing lights on top darted across the sky faster than any aircraft she’d ever seen. “Maybe they’re flying saucers...”
The thought raced through Mildred’s mind before she could suppress it. She’d heard more than enough talk about extra-terrestrials two summers ago when a neighbor’s oat field was vandalized by what was referred to in the newspapers as “crop circles.” Scientists and reporters had flown in from all parts of the country to photograph the oddly intricate formations. And nosy people arrived from everywhere with their children and even their dogs. Mildred and Jake had sympathized with the Merrill family. If their oat crop wasn’t completely ruined by all that invasive artwork, the tourists had certainly finished it off.
Mildred read later that the scientists thought whirlwinds or some other natural force had created the formations. It was only the science fiction buffs and idiots who believed in extra-terrestrials. Her husband was convinced that the whole thing was a hoax, likely instigated by the young fellows their son regarded as his friends. Mildred was supremely grateful that Clarence had been at home that night.
Clarence back-stroked his way to the surface from beneath the murky waters of the pond. He permitted himself a quick breath of air and a frenetic glance at the sky before submerging once again. No sign of the UFOs if that’s what they were...? The young man realized the alcohol he had imbibed still affected his nervous system but he was positive he hadn’t imagined those space ships with all the brilliant, psychedelic lights. And that smell! It was the same odor he’d remembered from two years ago when the crop circles had appeared in the Merrill’s field.
That pilot Rick Thorklesen had telephoned Danny Merrill’s dad about what he’d spotted from the air. Clarence was Danny’s best friend so he got to be one of the first on the scene. Neither Danny nor his dad could smell anything. But every now and then as the three of them strolled through the field, Clarence would get a whiff of that awful smell.
Rex was still barking but Clarence noticed the intensity of his yelps had abated. Cursing himself for a coward the young man began swimming toward shore. After reassuring his dog with pats and kindly phrases he found a relatively clean portion of his shirt to blot the surplus water from his shoulder length blond hair. He donned socks, shoes, and jeans and felt as if he were a regular human being again.
The young man and his dog sprinted along the trail until they were once again in the vicinity of the farmyard and the house. It was now 3:45 am according to Clarence’s watch. Just as he’d suspected, a light shone in the kitchen window, indicating his mother was already up. He’d have to climb the ladder, which led to the porch roof and slip inside through his bedroom window.
George bustled out to welcome them, his stub of a tail wagging enthusiastically. Rex returned the greeting with affectionate whines and sniffs. Clarence reached down to pat the silky fur, which was damp and matted in places.
“You poor little thing,” he crooned softly. “I’ll bet you’ve been wandering around all this time trying to find us. And you’ve lost your collar somewhere along the way....”
The little dog squirmed with delight. He’d been vastly relieved when he detected Rex’s approaching scent and that of Clarence, his biped companion. The two represented George’s newer happier life on this backward but peaceful planet. God only knew what would have happened if Rex had become caught in the clutches of those female pilots. From what George had gathered in the gossip circles back home, Jo was a real predator when it came to good-looking males. She might even have dognapped him and taken him home with her, although it was against the rules.
Thankfully, George thought, it was the male canines that were the important beings on this planet. That cute spaniel on the next farm was content in her role as mother to his puppies. Despite the language gap she had appeared to worship the ground George trotted upon. Their only anatomical disparity was an absence in her species of the extendible front toes with their larger opposing digits that had enabled his planet’s species to create a vast technological empire.
George had been keeping his toes inside their paws for the past year and a half. Ever since his partner had died of wounds inflicted by those savage canines known as coyotes. He had barely managed to escape the pack, making his way to the Merrill farm and then later, to the Thomas’s. There’d been no necessity for extending his toes since that time. That is, until tonight when manual dexterity had been required to remove his collar with its built-in life force monitoring signal. Otherwise, he could have ended up on board a space ship bound for home and away from this beautiful planet.
During the time that Rex and Clarence were at the big slough George had been extremely busy. Unbeknownst to them he had quietly dog paddled into the deepest part of that same body of water and submerged the offending collar into its murky depths. After that he wriggled and crawled his way through the thick swamp grass and brush in the direction of where the odor of freshly-stenciled crop circles had assailed his nostrils.
Sure enough, a number of various-sized circles were clearly visible in a field of grain. George was uninterested in the technical information that they were relaying to the universe. His concern was with the dozen or so highly reflective message cones, which had been arranged inside the perimeters of one of the larger circles. The directive they conveyed was specific to the beeping sounds from George’s collar that had been picked up on the pilot’s L.F. radio receivers.
The little dog enjoyed himself thoroughly, knocking the message cones over in every direction. He realized that within a few hours of daybreak their metal casings would break down from the unfiltered rays of the sun and their message would disintegrate into dust. But George wasn’t taking any chances. The dogs in charge on his home planet could be quite persistent.
”Hey you guys,” Clarence was back after a furtive perusal of the back porch. “Look what I found—some doggy biscuits.” The young man extended his hands each of which held a portion of the delicious tasting morsels. Rex whined in excitement and George found himself drooling before he even had a bite. Life was good on this planet!
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Kevin