Not Your Ordinary Alien Story

CHAPTER THIRTY

I drive five miles down the road before I pull off Redwood Highway and park my car hidden from sight behind three large Douglas firs. My tears subside. I lock the driver's side door and hide the key beneath the floor mat, then get out on the passenger side leaving that door unlocked. I wipe the last tear from my face with a tissue then pat the hood of the car. "Goodbye, Jet."

I walk along a narrow animal trail before veering off it onto the pine covered ground. It's feeding time. The birds are scavenging on the ground and fluttering overhead. A spotted towhee rummages noisily among the dead leaves, its dark wings flecked with white, its eyes fiery red.

I think about the other two times that the planets will be in the proper alignment for the portal to open. If the next time is a year from now, even two years from now, then I could put this off. I won't have to activate the beacon tonight. But I have no idea when the next time will be. I've read the journal so many times. I've gone over every bit of information in my head. Still, I haven't a clue when the next two times will be. I cannot put this off, I tell myself. If the next time the planets are in the proper alignment for the portal to open is ten years from now, even five years from now, people on Bilita Mpash we die beginning with the weak and elderly first.

My hearing grows more acute as I make my way deeper into the forest. Small animals rustle in the bush. A pinecone drops from a tree. I hear the crunch of something heavy on dried leaves. I stop, wait, and listen. When no other sounds follow, I move on.

I rack my brain for a way out of doing this. Just don't do it, I tell myself. Turn around right now and go home. I force myself to keep stepping forward, one foot in front of the other. I can't let the people on Belita Mpash die.

Electricity crackles in the air as I emerge from the trees into the clearing. I check my watch. It's almost seven thirty. I have between 8:30 and 9:30 to activate the beacon. Setting my backpack down next to the fallen redwood, I remove the branches covering the opening. The beacon is there glowing in the dim light. I crouch as I walk in through the spider webs and the dust flickering in the air.

I grab onto the base of the beacon and tug. It doesn't move. I position myself on the other side of it, sit down on the rotting wood and wilted leaves, and push on it with my legs. It moves an inch. I continued pushing with my legs, resting every now and then, until I have it halfway out. Cobwebs clings to my hair. Sweat trails down my neck. I look at my watch. It's five after eight. The sun slips out of sight giving way to twilight.

I keep pushing with my legs. The twilight fades away and the first star appears in the sky. I keep working on it. Finally, I have the beacon entirely out. It's dark now. I take out my flashlight. The beam cuts a crisp path through the darkness. I have the unmistakable feeling that someone or something is watching me. My eyes scan the edge of the clearing. Two bright animal eyes glow in the dark. When I stare back, whatever it is turns and scuttles into the bushes.

I check my watch again. It's eight thirty. This is it. I can activate the beacon anytime between now and nine thirty. I grab an area about a third of the way from the top and with my arm muscles straining, my knees bent, I push the beacon upright. The contraption is more magnificent looking than I remember. The two green emerald-like stones in the golden globe gleam as though light is shining from within. The colored metallic materials glow as bright as neon lights and the dazzling diamonds flash on and off in the darkness.

Sitting on the ground, my back leaning against the rough bark of the redwood, I turn off the flashlight. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my shirt. I'm breathing heavily. I look up above the trees, at the stars sparkling like someone threw a handful of glitter across the black sky. It seems incredible; it is incredible, like something from mythology, people coming from the skies, my people coming from the skies. With my life about to radically change course, I concentrate on quieting my breathing.