“The Sheriff is really busy right now. He is trying to break away and plans to get to your place as quickly as he can. We have a lot of damage from the storm last night. He will try to get to the Foster ranch within the next hour or two,” she said.
“Well, I’ll be here,” was all he said as he hung up.
What the hell could be more important than a plane crash, he thought to himself. He examined the piece of metal he had picked up at the crash site. It was incredibly light weight but no matter how hard he tried, he just could not bend it. He went out to the tool shed and placed the metal in a vice on the worktable. He lit the cutting torch and adjusted the flame. As he pressed the oxygen lever the flame grew intensely hot.
He started heating the metal first before trying to cut it. He played the flame back and forth across the metal but it didn’t glow red like other metals. He increased the temperature but the metal still didn’t heat up. It looked exactly the same.
He tried cutting through the metal but had no success whatsoever. He turned off the torch, flipped up his shield, and scratched his head. He reached over and got some water on his hands and flicked it on the metal. Nothing. No sizzle, no steam vapor, no sound. He placed his hand near the metal but could not feel any heat coming off of it. Using just the tip of his finger he quickly touched the metal. It was not the least bit hot. He scratched his head again.
Next he picked up an eight pound sledge hammer and took a hard swing at the metal but all the hammer did was bounce off. It hardly made a noise, almost like the blow was absorbed. He looked at the spot he had hit and not even a mark was visible on it. Whatever this metal was, it wasn’t anything he had ever run across before. He was just about to try something else when he heard a car coming up the road. It was Sheriff Wilcox.
“Hi Mac.”
“Sheriff,” Mac said, shaking the officer’s hand.
“What’s going on? Bonnie said you found an airplane wreck,” the Sheriff said.
“I think so. I’m not really sure what I found.”
“Now Mac,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, “You would know it if you found an airplane crash.”
“Well, why don’t we just take a ride and I’ll show you what I’m talking about,” Mac replied.
“Can’t we just drive? You know I don’t exactly have a deep love for animals bigger than me,” he said.
“You’re welcome to give it a try but I think you will get bogged down. The ground is really soft right now.”
“Oh hell. All right, let’s get this over with,” the Sheriff said, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to get on a horse if he was going to see this alleged plane crash.
Mac already had the horses saddled up and within minutes the Sheriff was seated uncomfortably on a large grey Arabian. Mac led the Sheriff back down the path to the spot where he first saw the trench.
“See there,” he said, pointing to where the ground had been dug up.
“Where does it go?”
“About three quarters of a mile through there,” he said pointing.
“Let’s go,” the Sheriff said. They rode in silence until the Sheriff finally said, “Lot of metal around. You could be right. It sure looks like something crashed around here.”
“There,” Mac said, “Pointing to the wreckage.”
“What in God’s name?” the Sheriff said, his mouth hanging open.
“That’s why I called,” Mac said. The two men dismounted and walked toward the wreckage. Debris was spread all over the area.
“What the hell is this thing?” the Sheriff asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mac replied.
The two men stood looking at the crumpled craft.
“No way,” the Sheriff finally muttered.
“I know. That’s what I said.”
“Did you look inside?”
“Nope. I didn’t know what the damn thing was and I wasn’t about to poke my head inside of something I couldn't identify. Let me show you something else,” he said walking around the strange looking aircraft.
Mac pulled back a crop of tangled brush and showed him a body.
“Holy Mother of God!” the Sheriff exclaimed stepping back. “What the hell is it?”
“Sheriff, I have no idea but I think we are looking at the future.”
With Mac's help, the Sheriff hauled some pieces of the metal back to the ranch house in his saddle bags. When they got back to the house he placed several pieces of the metal in the trunk of the car. Mac took him out to the work shed and demonstrated what he had tried to do with the metal. He also showed him some strange markings he had found on several pieces.
“What the hell is this stuff made out of?”
“Don’t know. Listen. When you hit it, it doesn’t even make a noise,” Mac said, slamming the heavy hammer into the metal.
“I’ll be damned. That is just too strange. I’ll take that stuff in the trunk with me and maybe someone can analyze it for us,” the Sheriff said.
CHAPTER THREE
“509th, RAFF, Lieutenant Cody.”
“Lieutenant Cody, this is Sheriff Wilcox. One of our local ranchers has discovered what appears to be some kind of airship crash. Who would I need to talk to about that?”
“I can take the information for you and pass it along,” Cody told him.
“Well, I really would like to talk to someone about it right now. It’s kind of a strange thing. I really don’t know where to begin,” the Sheriff stammered.
“I understand sir. Let me connect you with Colonel Blanch. He is the commander for the 509th Bomber Group.”
The Sheriff had rehearsed what he intended to say but now it sounded kind of crazy.
“509th Bomber Group, Colonel Blanch, how may I help you?”
“Colonel, this is Sheriff Wilcox. A local rancher called about what he thought was a downed aircraft. I went out to his place and well sir, I’m not sure what we saw. It was not an aircraft in the usual sense.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, it is round. Like a disk. Maybe the military has such a craft but I’ve never seen one like it.”
There was a long pause on the other end before the Colonel spoke, “A disk? Are you referring to a flying disk?”
“I honestly don’t know. It is round, made out of some kind of metal I have never seen before and….”
“Yes?”
“Well, we found a body. It doesn’t look human to me.”
“Sheriff, this is on the up and up isn’t it? Not some kind of practical joke?”
“Sir. I am the duly appointed Sheriff and I can assure you that I take my responsibilities very seriously. I wouldn’t waste my time on a practical joke,” the Sheriff said, raising his voice slightly.
“All right, Sheriff. I just wanted to make sure before I sent people out to check on this thing, whatever it is.”
“Understood. So you will send someone?”
“I’ll send Major Morsel and a team out. I want to see what you are talking about as well,” the Colonel said.
The Sheriff gave him directions to the Foster Ranch and made arrangements to meet him there at 7:00 p.m. It would give the Colonel enough time to organize a team and the Sheriff enough time to go back to the crash site and look around more.
At exactly 1900 hours, Major Morsel, followed by a 6 X 6 truck pulled into the Foster ranch. The Sheriff and Mac Brazel went out to meet them.
“Where is this craft?” the major asked after introductions were made.
“About a mile back, near a creek that runs through the property,” Mac told him.
“Can you lead us there?”
“Sure. I’m not sure the truck can make it. I’ve been going on horseback. The ground is pretty soft.”
“Do you have a horse I can borrow?”