Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

“It’s mostly classified, but I know you can keep a secret. I’m testing a new combat armor called FALOS. It stands for Fusion-powered Armor Light Operator System. Basically, it’s full body armor supported by a titanium exoskeleton. The built-in fusion reactor powers a 100-kilowatt laser rifle, also referred to as a DE Rifle.”

“Wow. It’s come a long way since I was in the service. Guess you will be getting an Air Force cap soon too, eh?” The old man said with a grin.

“Anything seem off to you about the new equipment? Like something just doesn’t seem right about it?” Pops asked.

Snap pondered for a minute, thinking that was an odd question for his grandfather to ask. “No, not really. I can’t really say anything else, you know, national security stuff.”

“So, what brings you all the way out to Nelson County?” Pops asked, obviously changing the subject.

“I’m in DC for a few days, Pentagon stuff. So, I thought I would come by and visit. Say, what’s wrong with your phone?”

“Got a new provider. Now, I hardly get any service out here in the sticks. Think I need to switch back.”

“Yeah. I’ve tried calling you several times. At your age, living alone, you need a phone that works all the time.”

“Roger that Major,” The old man gave a half-ass salute to his grandson.

“Pops, you know Mom and I worry about you. Out here alone on the farm.”

“Speaking of my daughter, how’s your Mom doing. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“Well, maybe if you had a . . .”

“Don’t be a smart ass to an old man,” Pops cut him off with a twinkle in his eye.

“No seriously, Mom is doing fine. She moved to Florida a while back.”

“She found a new man, yet?” Pops asked.

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t said anything.”

“Ever since your father died, when you were knee high to a grasshopper, I been telling her to find a new man – get married.”

“She would probably be happier,” Snap agreed. “But after all these years, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

The rocking chair squeaked against the uneven floor boards. White paint was peeling across the exterior of the house. Snap knew his grandfather did not have the strength or energy to keep up this house from a bygone era.

“Could I get you something to eat, a sandwich or lemonade?”

“Do you still have that homemade root beer?” Snap asked.

The old man chuckled and said, “I don’t make it myself anymore, but my neighbor brings me some every now and then. Got some in the fridge.”

“I’ll get it,” Snap said as he leapt from the rocking chair. For a moment, Snap felt like he was five years old again. “Do you want one?”

“Sure, I’d love to share a beer with my only grandson.”

Snap walked into the old farmhouse. It was much like he remembered, except messier. How long had it been since grandma died? Was it ten years? Longer? As he rounded into the kitchen, he noticed the dining table was buried beneath hundreds of papers, documents, files, and books. The hand-bottled root beer stood in the old-fashioned refrigerator, ice cold. Snap returned to the porch; a cool breeze pushed through the worn screens. Pops was reading a hand-written leather-bound journal.

“What you got there, Pops?” Snap asked, as he set the brown, glass bottle down on the small table.

Pops leaned back in his chair and took a sip from the bottle. He appeared to be in deep thought. Pops said, “You know I won’t be here much longer.”

“Come on, Pops. You’re in great health,” Snap protested.

“No really, I’m ninety-five; every day I wake up is a surprise. Seriously, I have something important to say. So, listen.”

Snap shrugged and said, “Sure, Pops, anything you want.”

Pops took another sip of the sweet root beer and said, “I’m not the man you think I am. I’ve done a lot, seen a lot. Everything is recorded, right here in this journal. When I die, you need to come back to the farm and retrieve this journal. It will be here, waiting for you.”

“I may not be able to, I could be deployed to the other side of the world.”

“Doesn’t matter. This house will still be here. It’s not in my name; a corporate trust pays the taxes on it. When you get back, the journal will be here, hidden. It won’t be easy to find.”

“Why hide it?”

“When I’m gone, people, lots of people, will be looking for my papers. It will take them a while to find this place; it is well hidden in shell companies. But they will find it, given enough time.”

“What’s in the journal, Pops?”

“All the secrets.” The old man smiled. “I was in the Air Force, in the beginning, when it all started.” The old man smiled as he gently closed the leather-bound journal and patted it with his crippled hand. Snap was sure he saw a twinkle in the old man’s eye.

“So, I hate talking about this, but it’s obviously important to you. How will I find the journal if it’s hidden?”

Pops grinned, “You know how people say, ‘if these walls could talk.’”

“Sure Pops.”

“Well, mine actually do. You still like plinking cans?”

Snap shook his head and laughed. “Of course.”