Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   youngsters categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools


THE WATCHERS (standard:science fiction, 1888 words)
Author: pjlawtonAdded: Jun 14 2004Views/Reads: 3397/2293Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Toward the end of WWII, a lone flyer has an stange encounter. After the war, he has another but is forced to remain silent. After 50 years he decides to tell the story.
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

hospital isolation ward. Three days later I was informed that I was 
suffering from either advanced combat fatigue or serious psychological 
trauma due to witnessing the first atomic blast. 

I asked my inquisitors about the gun camera film. They looked at me with
blank stares and told me there was no gun camera film. My guns had not 
been fired. They then evacuated me to a stateside hospital for a much 
needed rest. I was sent to an isolation ward for almost 6 months. 

One day I received a visitor. When he entered my room he had the air of
Washington D.C. stamped all over him. He first asked me to retell what 
had happened on that August day. When I finished, he simply got up and 
walked out. I had a feeling that my story wasn't the first one he had 
heard about the Watchers. 

A couple of hours later another man carrying a thick file folder came to
see me. He said if I signed an official secrets form I would be 
released. The gist of the form was that everything that had happened on 
Special Bombing Mission 13 was Top Secret. If I revealed anything about 
it, to include my so-called encounter, then I would spend the rest of 
my life in a military prison. I signed the paper and in a few weeks was 
quietly discharged from the military. 

I bought some surplus military gear and a surplus jeep and went out to
the desert to do a little prospecting and to quietly reflect on what I 
had just been through. That was why I happened to be there the night I 
saw them again. 

*** 

July 4, 1947. Happy Independence Day I thought as I added a little more
dried sagebrush to my fire. I crawled back into my sleeping bag but 
couldn't immediately fall back asleep. It was a beautiful full moon 
night with millions of sparking stars. Unexpectedly a large flying 
object came over the hills and silently swooped down into my valley.  
It was moving slowly like it was having some trouble staying airborne. 
As it neared I realized that I knew that shape. After all, I had seen 
it before. It was a large flying Stingray. A long trail of smoke was 
coming from somewhere in the back. A few seconds later another sound 
followed as two low flying airplanes in battle formation swept in from 
the same direction. I could see the silhouettes but didn't really need 
visual contact to identify them. 

The sounds were the screaming whine of jet engines on full throttle.
Lockheed P-80s on full burner were chasing the Stingray. All of a 
sudden they were firing. Two rockets flashed out from the lead jet and 
then the .50 caliber machine guns opened up from the second. The 
Stingray was hit, hard. Suddenly it spun around like a top and fired 
its own weapons. What looked like lightening bolts erupted from the 
Stingray's nose. In less that a heartbeat, both jets disintegrated 
right before my eyes. One second they were there. Then they were gone. 
I couldn't believe it. 

I glanced back to the other craft and noted that it was in serious
trouble. For just a minute I thought it was going to be able to pull 
away. Then it made a hard left bank and buried its nose into the 
ground. The crash was about a quarter of a mile from me. A large 
explosion followed. I sprang up, pulled on my boots and sprinted toward 
the blazing light. I had to get a look at what had haunted me for all 
these months. 

The stingray had gone down on the other side of a low hill. When I
topped the rise I simply stopped dead in my tracks. I could see that 
the ship had broken up, either from the crash or the explosion. That 
however wasn't what stopped me. In the light of the flaming ship I 
could see figures. I saw one, then another, then another. They didn't 
look like any humans I had ever seen. I watched as they attempted to 
help others from the stricken bird. They never had the chance. 

From behind came the scream of another attacking jet. Glancing back I
saw the plane approaching and watched two silver canisters drop from 
the wings. I knew that sight all too well. I immediately dived behind 
some boulders just below the ridgeline as the bombs landed. They were 
big ones, at least 500 lbs each. The double explosions picked me up, 
blasted all the air from my lungs and sent me flying down the slope. 
Stunned, I lay there in the swirling dust and falling debris. 

After some time I was able to slowly get to my feet. Nothing seemed to
be broken but I felt pretty banged up. Intent on making my way back to 
the crash site I almost didn't see the vehicle lights speeding my way. 
A sudden flash of a headlight a few miles away caught my attention. I 
realized that I couldn't be seen here. By dropping two 500 lb bombs on 
the wreck, the military was trying to obliterate all traces of the 
alien ship. I had already had more than my share of military cover-ups. 
I did a stumbling run back to my campsite and threw all my equipment 
into the jeep. I checked the area to make sure that I had left nothing 
identifying behind and made a hasty departure in the opposite direction 
of the oncoming lights. 

Without headlights I slowly drove across the quiet desert for a couple
of hours. Just as daylight arrived I found myself pulling up to an old 
dirt track. I got out and walked to the faded road sign tacked to an 
old post stuck in the sand. The sign had an arrow pointing to the left 
and said, “Roswell 14 Miles”. I went back to my jeep, pulled out onto 
the track, turned right, and quickly drove away. That was over 50 years 
ago. I am ashamed that I have taken so long to . . . 

*** 

A sudden pain slammed the old man in the chest. Oh no, he thought. Not
now. I can't fail now. Slowly reaching forward a trembling hand, his 
sole focus was on the send-mail key. Behind him a second 50,000 volt 
M-18 Taser shot through the darkness. Another searing pain engulfed 
him. His shaky hand fell forward to the edge of the keyboard, jerked 
once and then was still. 

End 


   


Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
pjlawton has 21 active stories on this site.
Profile for pjlawton, incl. all stories
Email: pjlawton1@yahoo.com

stories in "science fiction"   |   all stories by "pjlawton"  






Nice Stories @ nicestories.com, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2020 - Artware Internet Consultancy