“Why did he go into the water?” he asked.
Charlie, the other deputy, shrugged.
“Who knows, maybe he thought he saw someone?”
Steve walked over to the bank. He squatted down and looked at the edge. Then he jumped into the by now dry gully.
“Look here. What do you see?”
The two deputies walked over and looked where Steve was pointing.
There were obvious marks of where Mike had clambered out of the flood. The hawser had cut a deep furrow into the bank as it was hauling the weight of its burden back to dry land.
They saw marks of where Mike had put his feet, and even where he had placed his left hand. There were also the marks of where whatever he was cradling in his right arm had been rolled over the bank onto dry land.
“Any footprints?”
The men looked, but this part was so hard and dusty that prints were not even a vague possibility.
“Okay, we know he went into the water, and he brought something out. It looks like he unhitched himself and then keeled over. So, what did he bring out, and where is it?”
The deputies shrugged and Steve felt frustrated.
“Okay, take a good look around, and tell me what you find.”
The guys moved off and Steve looked at the dry riverbed. He jumped back into the gully and walked slowly down stream.
He saw Doc Henry’s car turn off the highway and start towards the other cars. He ignored him, as it was too damn late.
He was about to return, when something black caught his eye. It was half-covered by dry mud, so he pulled it out.
It was a rubberised facemask, but a very odd shape.
He placed it up against his own face and found that the eyepieces were in the wrong place, and his nose got in the way. He examined it carefully, and felt that its design was just all wrong. Not even a child could wear this.
He then had a really stupid thought, and it made him shiver.
No, he told himself, don’t be stupid, - Aliens don’t exist.
Then he looked at the mask, and he almost dropped it. He swallowed, beginning to feel very afraid.
They took the body back to the hospital, where Dr Hutchins, the coroner’s pathologist, conducted an autopsy. The doctor phoned Steve, who went over as soon as he could.
The doctor was clearly upset at dealing with a well-known and loved local cop, who was also a personal friend. He shook Steve’s hand solemnly.
“Steve. Bad business this. I’ve just finished with Mike. He had a massive heart attack. He had a really diseased heart, so it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.”
“Anything else?” Steve asked.
The doctor shook his head, but was clearly uncomfortable. He led Steve into the back room. Mike’s remains were under a sheet on the operating table. The doctor pulled back the sheet, showing Steve what he meant.
“Not really. There’s no doubt about it, it was a heart attack. But there are other things. Look here, he had an impact bruise on his chest, probably a log or something. There were some odd marks, but I suppose he may have sustained some more injuries in the flood.”
“Odd marks?”
“Nothing serious, abrasions and minor bruises, not to worry about. It’s weird, because it looks as if someone placed him on a medical monitor. The marks are where the pickups were stuck on, and he has what looks like an intravenous mark on one arm.”
Steve saw several slightly red perfect circles on the upper chest area. They did indeed look like the marks of medical monitors. Small bruises and scratches covered Mike’s body, where the rocks had scraped against him as the winch dragged him from the water.
The small hole in his wrist was inconclusive; a thorn could just as easily have made it.
“What are you telling me, that someone tried to save him?”
“They are not conclusive, but that has to be a possibility.”
“Go on.”
“Well, the way skin behaves, these marks were made when he was still alive. They were removed after he died.”
“Where?”
“I really don’t know. But there was something else that would support this theory, as it’s pretty strange too.”
“What?”
“His shirt buttons were done up wrong, and his shoes were on the wrong feet. I’d say that someone undressed him, and then re-dressed him.”
All the clothes were now in a bag, but there were Polaroid photographs of everything he had mentioned. Steve took them and put them in his file.
Steve got nothing else from the doctor, and left, returning to his office. He looked at the piece of paper on his desk. He had written down some bullet points.
• Mike had left the highway.
• What did he see?
• Mike had gone into the water attached to the winch.
• What was in the water?
• Mike came out of the water carrying something.
• What was he carrying?
• Mike unhitched the winch.
• He died of a heart attack.
• His body shows that someone tried to save him attached to sophisticated medical equipment.
• Who tried to save him?
• Where are they now?
• Where did this happen?
• Why did they leave him?
• Whoever he saved lost a mask.
• What was it for?
• Why did they need it?
• Who undressed him and why get his shoes wrong?
• Who wouldn’t know about shoes?
• Native Americans…not any more.
• Hippies…not many left.
• Aliens
• African tribesmen…not many in New Mexico.
• South American Indians….the same.
• Aliens
• More aliens………….shit.
Steve stared at the bit of paper. He reached for the phone.
Mike stirred. He opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed, with a thin sheet covering him.
The room was in semi-darkness, but a faint light seemed to glow from the top corners of the walls, where they joined the ceiling. There was enough light to see.
As his eyes adjusted, he could see no furniture in the room at all. He figured he was in hospital, as he guessed that his heart had probably given out. He could see no heart monitor, and there were no drips attached to his arms.
His brain was still in molasses, and he had a problem trying to form thoughts. Images and stray thoughts flitted in and out like butterflies in a beautiful flower garden. He formed an image of his badge, focussing on that image. He was a cop, so he thought that he could cope with anything.
He moved his head, becoming aware of a strange sensation about his head and ears. The small movement made him feel nauseous and he stayed still for a moment, just looking at the ceiling. He frowned, as he knew that normally his eyesight would mean the ceiling would be out of focus, yet he managed to focus perfectly. He smiled; maybe his eyesight had improved through the experience.
He raised an arm to his head, but felt panic as he touched a vast mane of hair sprouting from his head.
“What the fuck?” he said, aloud.
The sound of his voice also startled him, for gone was the deep bass he was accustomed to, and in its place was a melodic but definitely feminine soprano.
He gently sat up, leaning on his elbows, experiencing a moment’s nausea and dizziness. Thankfully, the sick feeling passed, but as the sheet fell away to his waist, he felt a slight chill. He raised his right hand to his chest. His hand froze as soon as it came into contact with his chest, and very slowly he looked down. A feeling of shock and disbelief grew from the pit of his stomach, as his eyes adjusted properly to the poor light.
That poor light was sufficient for him to see that his hand was now cupping one of a pair of substantial, yet perfectly formed female breasts, which his chest now sported, with large nipples and deep brown aureoles.
It was a feeling of surreal detachment he watched as his forefinger and thumb gently rolled the hardening nipple, and a strange feeling of pleasure seemed to well up deep within him.