Frankentown (4 page)

Since, he has believed in the phenomena, and it would be a fair assessment to say he became a scientist in pursuit of its rational explanation, but when none was forthcoming that would satisfy his scientific mind, he gave up on UFOs and went on to pursue marine biology, the last great big unknown. Despite being unable to find anything close to a concrete answer, he never gave any credence to “invaders from mars” or other far-fetched stories him and his little brother were spoon-fed through the TV tube.
Science never allowed for such far-fetched thinking.
His own theory, he was now proposing to Steve and Allen, was that these are simply manifestations of general energy collected inside a cloud of glowing gases that cluster together and move in similar-to brownian-motion patterns across the sky. This theory, of course, didn’t account for the movements that seemed far too deliberate, such as a ninety-degree turn toward the sky.
It was the farthest away he allowed his mind to stray away from science. He considered the idea utterly liberal, at least for a University Professor. And it was. Only rest of the world would have guessed that little green men were inside the ball of light, perhaps checking in on us to make sure we, as a planet, aren’t a threat to ourselves or others.

“See, no, Frank? I don’t think this was, a gas?” Steve protested in his German accent,
 
“I saw one over Berkelee heels, and it mooved, it looked like it was mooving with will.”

“Did it react to you?” asked Frank, sparring the amount of words to shoot down Steve’s argument as efficiently as possible.

“Well of course not, it was far away-“ Steve said before Frank had the time to cut in;

“So how do you know it moved on its own will?” Frank logicized.
“It was fore away from me; how cud it reeact to me? When I was very far?”

Frank had nothing more to say, but stood his ground. Surely a man of science, such as Steve couldn’t think such foolish thoughts as “
…
little aliens then?”

Sure, Steve is still young yet.

“No.” Steve reassured him, “I’m not sa-ying there were aliens, I am saying that the motion did not look so random. It seemed to-
…
evade the houses. And I know that gas doesn’t evade anything.”

This shut Frank up for a good while, while Allen told the story of his niece, returning from Nevada, who saw strange lights in the sky while heading north on the interstate.

“You know, Nevada’s known for this stuff though, I also heard my parents in law saw something strange on that road once many years ago. And they have that
…
secret place over there; hidden in the desert.”

As with the most times that Allen spoke, Frank quickly forgot the point he was trying to make, or what he was trying to convince himself of.

“Let’s not worry about all this anymore-“ Allen suggested, “-let’s drink!”

“We more than filled our quota-“ Frank agreed. They had even caught a nice specimen that now sat in a small-ish tank and inkwater. Steve had already took out the bottles; three 80 ounce jugs that rested in a crate under the graying old life-saver. Allen was most excited.
 
“Think this calls for a little celebration.”

The distraction was welcome. He had, once again, delved too deep into himself and started to mine his own troubled thoughts for some shred of continuity or explanation to justify it all.

As with any of the other times he’s tried, which were usually a predecessor to drinking, as it was today, he decided it’s best to let it go.

What started with a beer each at 4:30, continued with glasses of rum at 5 o’clock that disappeared almost quicker than they could be poured. Steve apologized for forgetting the “80 proof beer” at home.
Soon, between the three of them, the two bottles of white rum they brought along quickly disappeared.
They now sat inside, as outside got too windy.
They were far too drunk to navigate the boat between other docking fishing boats. It was peak hour.
To be smart, they would have to wait until nightfall to start heading back.
As Steve said, laughing, “Boat dings are more expensive than car dings. And I don’t have my triple-ey card.”

They drank by the weak light of the generator, which had power for about seven more hours of dimly lit drinking. Reminiscent stories of Allen and Frank’s time in college were told, of which Steve had no part as he was too young to have been their peer that far back, not to mention he studied at Edinburgh University.
As it sometimes happens, Frank needed to pee.
The alcohol in his blood quickly went right through, and though they had been drinking harder alcohol, there was plenty of liquid to make up of it in the limes and oysters Steve bought in the Hook&Bait shop back on shore.
 

Frank stumbled outside to realize that the sun was setting behind clouds. It was getting relentlessly cloudy and dim and dark; until no more rays of light could be seen any longer and only the noise of rain hitting the great ocean roof turned warm.
 

Up ahead, the dark blue ocean and menacing clouds on the horizon simmered with ominous rainclouds, up ahead. Though they had a bucket to pee in, their policy was to pee overboard so no one had to deal with a bucket of piss back on shore. After all, the squid would hardly mind or be able to tell with the smell of ammonia aboard the deck.
Mere seconds after Frank began his business,
the light sound of thunder made him jump.
He had seen no indication of a flash of lightning,
but he had peed on his trousers a little.
Fortunately these were waterproof fishing trousers and his pants already smelled like ammonia. He was drenched in the squid’s secretions.
Neither of the guys will be able to tell.

 
When finished, he crouched down to the bucket of seawater they kept for keeping any fish they might have caught and made a half-assed drunken attempt at washing away the evidence of his accidental embarrassment.

Right then,
 
he saw a half-expected flash. However, it soon came to him this flash wasn’t just a flash of light, but rather a flash of distinctly green light.

He stumbled back inside the cabin.

“Hey, lightning can’t be green, right?” Frank asked,
neither one of them in particular.
Allen offered his surprisingly sober explanation.
“Well, it’s generally somewhat blue-ish in color the way we perceive it, but with a yellow sunset it
could
seem sort of green
…
”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Steve with courage to mock him with the tone of his german accent. “Besides, it’s almost dark.”

The two men got onto their feet and stumbled onto the deck, as if expecting to see the green flash of lightning that Frank had described moments earlier.
 

They stood about looking in all directions. The wind had died down considerably and it looked as though they may be soon hit with rain. At once, it stopped raining. Thunder struck.
The patch of ocean two hundred feet north of them lit up spring-green.
Their hazy booze-sponged brains hadn’t even started to form a theory on what it may have been,
when a fifty-foot ball of green light emerged out of the water, rose into the air about three hundred feet and sped off toward the coast, all in about twenty seconds.
They stood there at a loss for words, looking at the shore until Frank broke the tension of the silence.

“Did everyone see that?”

Steve muttered something like “Oh squid.”

Allen nodded, mouth agape.

The alcohol in their blood had all but lost its effect with the rush of adrenaline.
Now they were drunk
and
hyper.

“Did you see that thing?” said Steve,
unwittingly following Frank’s example.

“That sure didn’t seem like gas to me.”

Frank never waited to admit being wrong.

“It wasn’t. This is exactly what I saw when I was a kid, at Lawrence Hall. Only it didn’t come out the water last time. Or at least if it did, I didn’t see it.”

Another great green ball of glow emerged quickly and soundlessly out the water following the last one’s trail.

“Or least so I thought.”

A brief moment later a smaller red one, following the first at much higher speed to catch up.
The two lights then quickly dissipated on the horizon.

“I think I just shit my pants,” Allen notified.
“Let’s get back to shore.” Neither of the guys disagreed. They were both anxious to get back ashore, despite the lights heading in that direction. Their empty gazes deterred each other from asking pointless questions. None of them had any idea what they just witnessed.

Rain soon extinguished the hot humid air with fresh, breathable gasps.

The Air was hot and humid.

Then rain started pouring again.
The tide was now with them and they arrived on shore within 45 minutes, tied up the boat and moved the equipment and the live specimen back to the car.

Chapter Four

Miracle

Though the alcohol content of their bloodstream would normally prevent them from entering a car, this was special circumstances.
They had docked the ship, tied it up, loaded the car and were ready to go in a record 8 minutes from arriving. Allen took initiative and sat behind the wheel as usual.
He had always been the best drunk driver.
Once, two months prior, he drove them both home after a night out, then got home and vomited for 25 minutes. Allen always boasted with stories like that, as if to merit him a badge of honor for life-long party-cats.

Within 15 minutes they were already heading north on 1-N, and they haven’t passed a single headlight.
After about a half hour of driving, it became evident that something was off about the way back.
Steve was the first to note it aloud.
“Guys, where are all the cars? We haven’t seen a single car on the road the entire way.” Frank and Allen quickly realized that this is true. Allen glanced at the clock, which just turned 1:04.
“The clock must be wrong, what time is it Frank?”

Frank opened up his cellphone which said 1:06 and reported as such to Allen.
“What time did we head back to shore?” Allen asked.
“Couldnt’ve been any later than 8:45
…
”
Steve nodded in agreement.
“I checked and it was 8:15 when we were drinking and then Frank went outside
…
”

The lack of traffic encouraged Allen to forget his DMV tests as he sped up to 85mph. Of course, he didn’t notice how fast he was going because there wasn’t any traffic to compare his speed to.

“Guys, I’m feeling a little bit sick
…
” said Steve apologetically and with embarassment in his tone,
“do you think we could make a stop somewhere soon?”

They took a left turn at a small beach, lit up by a campfire. It was not uncommon for people to have campfire parties on beaches this time of the year. Even though it was overcast and there was a bit of wind, it was very warm. The air hadn’t gotten cleared by rain at all in weeks until tonight.

As soon as they parked, Steve escaped the car and spewed onto the asphalt of the neighboring parking spot. Frank and Allen took a little longer to climb out to comfort Steve and catch some fresh air despite Allen spewing.

“You ok, Steve?” Frank inquisited.

It was to dark to see Steve’s skin color which had changed from white to green. “I’ll be fine, I just need to breathe a bit. It was de drinks and de wayves.”

“Let’s go see that campfire.” Allen proposed, hoping to distract their attention from the nausea, which he was beginning to feel too.

Along the short wood-planked path to the beach they walked toward the sound of the crashing waves. Frank took of his shoes and discovered the sand was warm on his toes, which felt very refreshing.

Steve and Allen followed him to the beach, looking for the bonfire, which judging by the glow, must’ve been roaring. It was only then, when Steve had regained some of his former strength from the salty air, realized that the area is exceptionally quiet for any kind of celebration. Frank realized too.

Perhaps the fire’s been abandoned.

 
As soon as they made it past the sand dune to see the beach, they all froze except for Frank, who kept walking, confident to reach the bonfire and get toasty.
Steve ducked and Allen hugged the ground.
There was no bonfire.

Nobody else was on the beach except for the three of them and a large glowing orb that hovered in place, unaffected by the wind, casting an burnt orange glow onto the dunes, shallows and shrubs. As soon as it moved, Frank went into a stricken panic an threw himself down to the nearest dune, scurrying out of sight behind an old corroded tree trunk.

He peered over the wood to see the large ball of light, hovering, pulsating, moving slowly until motionless. Blood froze in Frank’s veins, then adrenaline rushed like boiling water, but Frank remained frozen.
This is what he and his family saw when he was only 7 years old. And what they just saw on the boat.

What is it? His mind sped around explanations, none of which fit any known rationale. He turned to see if his colleagues may have a better idea of what they’re looking at and discovered he was alone.

Shit.

By this time, Steve and Allen were already a quarter mile away, speeding north as fast as the old car allowed.

Frank could only cower behind the old tree carcass, hopelessly trying to reduce the adrenalin for a few good minutes, before he could move and sat up.
 
As soon as he did, however, the orb's light went out into a dim glow, until it disappeared altogether.
The beach was now too dark to make out anything and the glow of the orb was burned into his retinas. Panicked and blind, he could only hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore and dull sandy sounds.

His eyes adjusted within a minute, but it was too dark even for being adjusted. He couldn’t really see well at all.

Only tops of the wavy sand dunes were crested with the diluted light of the moon on the eggplant sky, hiding behind a thick veil of clouds.
Frank picked up the nearest rock to defend himself, should he have to. For the last quarter century he had been alone, thrown around by life from loss to loss. He even fell out with Allen once, but he’s a hugger.