Dusty: **turns on voice recorder** February 10th, 2017. Time is approximately five
thirty five pm. A white SUV with dark tinted windows just passed through the parking
lot for the third time. License plate from New Mexico, 034GVBO. Looks like someone in
the back drivers side seat has a camera—possibly a camera, possibly an iPad, possibly
a…
Woman: Excuse me? Excuse me sir?
Dusty: Sorry about that ma’am.
Woman: I've been here for five minutes.
Dusty: ...I know.
Dusty was indeed very busy. Preparations for February 11 had preoccupied his
time—as his video grew in popularity, the government began targeting him—the voice
recorder was an obvious measure to demonstrate that he was watching—but Dusty knew
that that alone was not enough. He'd spent his paycheck, half a bitcoin, and all of the
spending money his aunt sent him on purchasing security cameras for his house and
car. He'd started downloading the video feeds at his Carl's Jr. [Dusty closes the door to
his house and types on a computer] Every day when he got home from his job managing
the Carl's Jr, he would respond to comments on the blog, and emails from like-minded
individuals interested in coming to the hill country to investigate the base. Everyone was
anticipating with trepidation and fear whatever had been meant by the mysterious
message from the alien. Other people, also contacted by the alien, made themselves
known to him—he interviewed them in secret locations for the blog either before or after
work. [Dusty is in the car] The days were becoming long and chaotic, his nights
becoming sleepless, his labor at the Carl's Jr. more and more meaningless. Deep down,
he worried that tomorrow would come, and nothing would happen.
Dusty: No I don't.
Dusty did not acknowledge that he felt so, but nonetheless he did—fearing the
shame, the mockery, the humiliation of having been....
Dusty: (Angry but also terrified) Oh, would you shut up, already. (slams the door to the
car, walks across the parking lot) Do you have the documents? (Phillip hands a stack of
papers to him) Fascinating.
Phillip: Now you don't tell anyone I got those to you. You could get me suspended.
Dusty: Of course not. I can keep a secret. (looks through the document) Look at this
here—her friends reported that she'd been seen leaving the bar with a man, described as
a six foot tall caucasian male with dark brown hair. That matches the description of the
last case almost perfectly.
Phillip: Sure does.
Dusty: Jesus Christ...who knows what they did to her? ...Last seen in Fredericksburg, TX
at an intersection, mouthed the words “Help me” to a Miss Molly Perkins while she was
out walking her dog. Police never found a body.
Phillip: What do you think?
Dusty: I—it's too soon to say for sure. I'll need to cross reference it with the other
documents. If I start printing just anything, I'll lose my credibility. But...thank you.
Phillip: Absolutely. You...you still been noticing those cars driving by your work?
Dusty: Yes, I wrote down the license plate numbers. Here you go. Let me know if it
comes up with anything suspect. How about you?
Phillip: Went outside and my birdbath had been flipped over again. Caught someone on
video going through my house with a flashlight while I was at work. Didn't take nothing.
Dusty: You've got to stay strong, Phillip. What we're doing isn't easy. I've been at this
since I was 18. Now that people are finally listening to me, they're getting scared.
They're trying to shut us up. (A long silence) Anyway, we should talk about something
other than this. How's your son doing?
Phillip: He's...he's okay. We talked the other day. He promised me he ain't gonna touch
no marijuana again. Guess he's...been feeling pretty sad though. I don't blame him. It's
that damn house, I think, just reminds both of us of, you know, everything that I was
telling you about. (Another long silence) How about you? How did your conversation
with uh, with your dad go?
Dusty: He's got a parole hearing coming up in a few days. I don't know how well its
going to go.
Phillip had accessed the case records. He knew why Dusty's dad had gone to prison.
Now that he was hearing the narrator's voice too, he was worried he'd follow in his
father's footsteps. That was what Dusty feared at least—that Phillip was in on it all too.
That somehow Phillip was manipulating his emotions, driving him into some kind of
trap.
Dusty: Where's Grace?
Phillip: Oh she—she's got some kind of, um, I think it was a date night or something.
Dusty: Is she still coming tomorrow?
Phillip: She's still saying she will, but she mentioned something about her kids' soccer
game, or...something like that. I'm not sure.
Dusty: Well, if she decides not to come, I heard from a husband and wife team from
Austin last night that believe their brother in law was abducted by the government in the
1960's. They want to join. Apparently they have some kind of infrared camera
equipment.
Phillip: How many we got coming out?
Dusty: Right now, I've got about fifty, maybe sixty, volunteer investigators, plus the
other groups I told you about.
Phillip: Geez. (beat) Same plan as before.
Dusty: Exactly. (Narrated as though it is literally happening the next day) We will have
cameras stationed at Angel Point, Lookout Mountain and Sutherby Hill, all trained on
the valley, especially around the military base, but the hope is to get coverage of the
general area. Drones will be sweeping the perimeter of the water treatment facility and
the surrounding neighborhoods, thanks to a few good volunteers. Then we will break
into observation patrols. My truck is going to be in the Mason area, then another truck
between Doss and Fredericksburg, near the Topaz Hills Neighborhood, and then we'll
have one providing refreshments at the Walmart parking lot. The tent on my property
will be dedicated to watching the video feeds and handling communications, as well as
watching the police scanners.
Communications: Disco Thirty, come in Disco Thirty, this is Eagle Five.
Dusty: (into radio) Come in Eagle Five, what's going on? (To his side) Keep watching,
keep watching.
Communications: Ten fourty five am, we've noticed something in the Topaz Heights
neighborhood. Looks like a herd of cows, running in a circle, around a house.
Dusty: Can you get me a visual on the house?
Communications: Erm—well. I...you want me to just email it to you, or--?
Dusty: Yes please, Eagle Five. You have my email, right?
Communications: Uh—I think so. Uhm...okay. So. I just...do a...
Dusty: Maximize the window with the anomaly.
Communications: Okay.
Dusty: Now hit “print screen.”
Communications: Uh....okay.
Dusty: Now can you send that to my email? patriottruth87@aol.com
Communications: Okay, it should have sent.
Dusty: Yep, I'm pulling it up on my phone right now...hmmm. Interesting. Very
interesting. Eagle Five, can you please get the cameras focused on that area? Piranha 77
is going to continue monitoring the Carbon Dioxide levels at the cave, I'm going to see if
I can get a thermal camera focused on the area. Please keep me updated if anything else
happens.
Communications: Roger that Disco thirty. Over.
Dusty: Over and out, Eagle Five. Did you hear that?
The other investigators in the party nodded. Dusty passed around his phone.
Phillip: That seems a little...suspicious. Don't know if its abnormal.
Dusty: Alien landings frequently cause animals to exhibit abnormal behavior. That's a
known fact.
Louis: Absolutely.
Mary Jane: Night I was abducted, my cat kept scratching at the window.
Louis: It sure did, I was there.
Mary Jane: He was there.
Dusty: Mary, can you and your son stay here and keep track of the CO2 levels? See if you
notice any spikes, that could indicate that their generators are drawing more power than
normal.
Mary Jane: Gunther! Gunther! Leave that squirrel alone Gunther! I'm telling you
Gunther, put it down. You want to get Carl's Jr. tonight, or not? Let it go. And zip up
your damn fly.
Gunther: Are the aliens here ma?
Mary Jane: We don't know yet.
Gunther: I thought we were gonna get to meet the aliens.
Mary Jane: I'm sure we will Gunther, but you wouldn't want to meet no aliens with that
squirrel blood all over your shirt. (To Dusty) Teenagers! I tell you.
Dusty: Well, we're gonna get in the truck...
(On the way down)
Lou: So, uh, Dusty was tellin me you got some kind of, um, alien implant, Phillip.
Dusty: We don't know if its an implant yet, it might just have been a genetic
modification.
Lou: You know, my wife's got an alien implant.
Phillip: Is that so? (To Dusty) Turn right down here.
Dusty: Got it.
Lou: Yeah, they, uh, they put it right in her leg. You can see it clear as day too. Took it to
the doctor, they wouldn't do no surgery or nothing. That's why we figured it was...
Lou started to doze off, like he'd lost interest in what he'd saying, as Dusty felt himself
get drowsier and drowsier. Phillip looked out the window at the trees. Dusty grimaced
with suspicion, but wonder, at the powers Phillip's been given. He could only imagine
what must have been running through Phillips head. Finally, he imagined, they were
about to know the truth, to strip away the curtain from the Deep State's clandestine
experiments. But Dusty couldn't help but fear that Phillip exuded more control over him
than he'd even realized. He never would have expected to manage to pull any of this
together on his own.
They reached the top of a tall hill, which looked out over the Topaz Hills subdivision.
The cows, once maneuvering in a circle, began to wrap around in a long line back over
the rancher's property. Lou took the tripod and binoculars out of the car, as Dusty
prepared to set up the infrared camera.
Dusty: Phillip, can you hand me my soda? Thank you. Alright. And...guys, guys, quick..
Look at this.
Lou: What is that?
Phillip: Oh holy shit
Dusty: Eagle Five, how are the other feeds doing, are they still running?
Communication: Disco 30, all feeds still operating normally. What is it showing on the
infrared?
Dusty: A large cold spot, just behind the ranch house, and then a small, warm...thing in
the front. Almost like a vortex. A woman just got out of her car—the cows have picked up
a man in their teeth and they are now carrying him out into the field. Okay...an old
rancher just came out with his shotgun. Fired it into the air. The woman is hiding in the
mesquite. Okay...he's...he's talking to something. The cows are coming back around. It
looks like...it looks like the cold spot is actually coming from the field. I'm not sure...the
resolution is grainy. Okay...How about you?
Communications: We got a drone flyby just a few moments ago, saw the cows.
Dusty: Ready the Welcoming Party.
Communication: Roger that. We are readying the welcoming party.
Mary Jane: (Over the radio) Uh...Dusty, I mean, Disco 30, looks like the CO2 just
dropped pretty substantially.
Phillip: You think it's really gonna happen? Like...an alien invasion of some kind? Or...
Dusty: It sure looks like it. Look. He's talking to something now, but there's no one
there. Okay, the cows just dropped the person back...(pause) They're talking...he's
charging at the old man and...Okay, the woman just came out with a rock. And...okay,
he's off balance. They're getting back in. He's...he's...he must be an alien. Phillip, can you
look up who lives at that address in your police database?
Phillip: I'm on it.
Dusty: Okay....okay. Okay, they're going back into the house. Cows have the man again.
(Gulps Soda, breathes a long sigh of refreshment) Jesus Christ.
Phillip: Looks like that's probably Gerry Parker. 87 year old male.
Dusty: Interesting. “Gerry Parker”, huh? Any government employment history?
Phillip: Looks like he's just a regular old farmer.
Dusty: Sure he is. And can you take a look at that car down there? See if you can get the
license plate.
Dusty handed Phillip the binoculars.
Phillip: Uhm...think I can make that out. Let me check.
Mary Jane: Carbon dioxide down to practically nothing, sort of a...weird ozoney smell
down there. Some steam coming out.
Communications: Disco 30. Getting lots of clouds, lots of wind.
Dusty: Roger that. The cold spot I mentioned before, in the sky, it's...being replaced by
some kind of really...hot...substance. Peeking at five hundred degrees...six hundred
fifty....seven hundred...I think this might be an alien wormhole. I really think
that...wait...someone's coming back onto the porch. They're coming out with the woman.
It's...it's...Oh god. No. No. It can't be. Eagle 5, can we get a drone?
Communications: Disco 30, still charging the drone from earlier, can change the
batteries and send it up.
Dusty: Phillip...Phillip look...
Phillip: What—No. No, that's him.
Dusty: That's the same person I saw.
Phillip: He's with someone called Meagan Cortez. White/Hispanic Female, twenty one
years old.
Dusty: Meagan Cortez and an Alien. They're looking up into the hot spot, which is now
approaching fifteen hundred degrees. It is expanding towards the ground and...it just
contacted the body of the man who was being carried by the cows earlier. He
is...convulsing, it looks like. The Alien couple looks like they are holding hands, and
watching very calmly... The temperature...temperature now at two thousand degrees
and rising—Wow! Nevermind Okay! It just dropped and...
Phillip: Look, look!
Dusty: Holy shit! Holy shit! (distant explosions, an earthquake)
Lou: Are you okay, Dusty?
Dusty: I'm fine, I'm fine! Oh my god.
Dusty watched as the ground fell, piece by piece, into a great, gaping sinkhole, caused by
the invisible alien energy. Far, far in the distance, the alien had collapsed to the ground,
as the woman extended her hand towards the sinkhole. It continued expanding, sucking
in houses and tearing open powerlines. Streaks of cold lines could be seen on the
infrared camera shooting from the woman's body into the pulsing alien wormhole. The
woman, it seemed, must have been an alien, probably allied with the deep state. But
there was no way to know for sure. The military arrived within minutes, and Dusty and
Phillip retreated back to homebase.
It took the team hours to piece together the video footage and release it—they
worked until the early hours of the morning trying to create something presentable out
of the immense amount of footage that they'd collected.
Dusty: I'm going to bed now, can you be quiet?
But there was a hidden benefit to this. The news media had released footage that
was clearly doctored—there was no sign of the immense metal pillar at the edge of the
sinkhole. For the rest of the day, local news stations would struggle to locate the
mysterious “Dean Heyerdahl”, who had released the videos. As Dusty lay in bed, he
realized the gravity of the position he found himself in. He tossed and turned, unable to
sleep.
Dusty: I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. This proved it. I'm not. I'm not. It's all real. It has to
be.
He jolted out of bed, and peered through the blinds. A car, a white SUV, had
stopped at the mailbox. He grabbed his gun. They were beaming the voice into his mind.
They had to have been. They were...using him. They wanted him to publish the video,
didn't they? This was all going according to plan. The voice froze. He was catching on,
wasn't he? He understood their--. (Dusty cocks the weapon).
Dusty: Shut the fuck up.
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