Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

“No. Nothing like that, Major. Just keep an eye on her. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, let us know,” General Paxton said firmly.

“How is that not spying?” Snap asked in the politest tone he could muster, trying to not be insubordinate.

General Paxton continued on in a firm tone, “Major, we don’t expect her to side with the traitors. But we have no idea who they are, how many there are, or what their intentions may be. We must assume they have spies everywhere, and we have nothing. If she is contacted by the defectors, we need to know about it. Do you understand?”

General Stone Byrd added, “Do you agree to stay close to her and report back to us if she is contacted by any of Mike Evans’ co-conspirators?”

Snap knew he had no choice, and why should he, if she was a traitor, then his loyalty was clearly with the military. Snap responded, “Yes Sir.”

“Good. Thank you Major. And thank you again for the good work in Siberia,” General Byrd said, as he stood.

“General, may I ask a question before you go?”

“Of course, Major.”

“Sergeant Davis, the one that was hit by friendly . . . that I shot. He started acting funny, having premonitions of a sort. He could predict where the alien would attack next. Did we ever figure out what happened there?”

Stone Byrd stopped, frowned and replied quickly, “No, Major. We never did figure that one out. I guess there are just some things that happen in combat that can’t be explained.”

“Yes Sir,” Snap replied. Snap knew the General was hiding something, but there was no point in pressing the issue.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

August 21, 1945

Dale Matthews wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked into the mess hall. He had been at Alamogordo Army Air Field in New Mexico for several months. The Germans had surrendered, and the war was over. Dale shuffled over to where soldiers in olive drab uniforms were lining up for chow. The single story wooden structure had a few ceiling fans that helped with the dry heat. For months, Dale had been performing meaningless tasks, just biding time. It was clear that the Army had no idea what to do with him after he answered all their questions about the alien space craft he had seen in France.

Dale had been informed earlier that day that General Ryan Bartlett wanted to speak to him about an urgent matter. It had been months since he had been debriefed on the whole alien incident, and since then, the Army seemed to have forgotten about him. Clearly the meeting this afternoon would have something to do with the ‘incident,’ as they were calling it now. After lunch, he walked through the blistering summer heat to the office building where all the Army brass worked. It seemed a bit cooler in the nondescript, secretarial bullpen, as he sat waiting for the General to arrive.

A few minutes later, General Ryan Bartlett appeared from behind a closed door. Dale remembered him from Paris, France. The General appeared to be having a difficult day.

“Sergeant Matthews, Good to see you again. At ease.”

Dale snapped to attention and saluted the General.

“At ease, Soldier. Come on back to my office, we have a lot to talk about.”

Dale knew it had to be about the incident, but what could it be. He had already told them everything. What else could he say or do? “Yes Sir” Dale replied.

“Have a seat,” General Bartlett said, holding his hand out to indicate Dale should sit in one of the chairs.

The office was small with peeling white paint on the walls. Behind the General was a window that looked out towards another plain wooden barracks. A heavy, metal desk stood between them. The General sat on a formidable, metal, rolling chair, trimmed out with green vinyl covering. His chair rolled back toward the window.

“Sergeant Matthews,” the General said rhetorically, as he gathered his thoughts, “You know a lot more about these extraterrestrials than most soldiers.”

Dale Matthews sat quietly, knowing the General was not seeking affirmation.

General Bartlett went on, “You see, you present a unique problem to the Army. We can’t have you running around talking about space ships and aliens that have guns that shoot bolts of electricity.”

“Sir, I have not said a word about the aliens. Not since we spoke of it in France.”

“No. No. We know that, Sergeant. If you had . . . well, let’s just say we would not be sitting here today. I think we have found a place for you, a place for you in our brand new, shall we say, military industrial complex,” the General went on, choosing his words carefully.

Dale had never heard the phrase ‘military industrial complex’ before, but he fully understood the meaning. “Yes Sir,” Dale said weakly.