Free The Roswell Conspiracy by Boyd Morrison Page B

tears.
    She couldn’t stay, and she couldn’t move the heavy corpse. She’d have to leave it where it was.
    The thing obviously didn’t want her to report what had happened, but she couldn’t just leave the creature there for no one to find for days or even weeks, its body at the mercy of scavenging coyotes.
    Fay knew that Mac Brazel and little Dee Proctor rode the fence line every Thursday, so they’d be coming in this direction the next morning. She could leave clues that would lead them here.
    She climbed onto Bandit and took one last look at the creature, who now seemed so vulnerable and unthreatening lying against the streambed wall. She kicked and Bandit trotted up out of the arroyo through the water coursing down in a torrent.
    As she topped the slope, Fay was amazed to see that virtually nothing was left of the craft but small chunks littering the ground around her.
    She picked up a dozen of the silvery metallic scraps and rode Bandit toward the fence line, scattering pieces behind her every few hundred yards. The shiny metal would lead the way back. When she reached the fence, she dropped the last few bits where she knew Mr. Brazel and Dee would see them.
    But two remnants of the crash she kept with her, safely tucked into her vest. One was a curved piece of silver craft itself, its jagged edges wrapped in her bandana. The other was the strange wooden carving.
    She wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. Something about the way the creature pointed at her gave her the sense that she would get into all kinds of trouble if she volunteered the story.
    If the creature wasn’t washed away by a flood, Mr. Brazel would find it. He would come across the wreckage, too, and then tell the government authorities about it. After it made the news, she imagined that the discovery of such an alien craft would be the talk of the town in nearby Roswell.

TEN
    After Fay finished her story, no one moved. Tyler stared at his empty plate and mulled over what he’d just heard. Grant had a look like he was trying not to show he thought she was nuts. Jess twirled her knife back and forth in her fingers and kept her eyes on the table.
    “Why didn’t you tell anyone about this back in 1947?” Grant asked.
    “I was afraid. When Mac Brazel reported the spaceship wreckage, the Army came in, covered the whole thing up, and convinced everyone Brazel was crazy. If people wouldn’t believe the ranch foreman, why would they believe a ten-year-old girl? I don’t even know what they did with the alien body. Took it back to Area 51, I suppose.”
    “But you went to the UFO festival a couple of weeks ago. Why?”
    “I had tried on my own for five years to find the truth, and I never got any closer to answering my questions. I was at a dead end. I had nothing to lose. Or so I thought.” Tyler felt Fay’s eyes fix on him. “I can tell you don’t believe me.”
    He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to put his next words delicately.
    “I like you, Fay,” Tyler said.
    “Oh, this isn’t going to be good.”
    “You really think you met an alien?”
    “He certainly fits the description of other encounters that have been reported: the gray body and huge head, the bulging black eyes, the slit for a mouth.”
    “And you believe those stories?”
    “I can tell you don’t believe in UFOs and aliens.”
    “I believe in UFOs. They’re unidentified flying objects. Anytime someone can’t figure out what something is flying through the sky, it’s a UFO by definition. That doesn’t mean they’re spaceships from another world.”
    “How can you be so sure?” Fay asked. “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”
    “Sounds familiar,” Grant said to Tyler, who squinted as he tried to recall which Shakespeare play the line was from.
    “ Hamlet , Act One,” Jess said to Grant, then looked at Tyler. “Did you take any English courses at MIT?”
    “Just