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  “Looks good so far. I can see the lights from the tow tractor about to come around the furthest building,” he reports quietly upon return. “We should be able to get a really good view from the ramp.” I nod my acknowledgment. No need to make unnecessary noise. We creep on.

  The weeds become sparser now, and it isn’t hard to figure out why. The ground has begun to stink like old fluids that leak out of diesel engines and the cars they pull. It doesn’t surprise me that very little can grow here. The pollution, though minor, is sufficient to kill any seeds that might blow in and try to take root. I move carefully, trying to avoid the dark colored stains so I don’t end up stinking too.

  We approach the ramp staying as close as we can to the berm on the left, which ends at the concrete retaining wall, which channels the track up to the ramp. I can faintly hear the whirring of motors and voices shouting instructions as the shiff moves towards its final home. Without any ground cover, and the excavation for the tracks wider here, it feels like we’re out in the open.

  “I’m going up to have another look,” Jared whispers. After a short pause to catch his breath, he creeps up to the edge. I decide to take a look too and move up along side him. We peer over the top. As we do, the bright runway lights are shut off leaving the taxiway dimly lit by the floodlights from the hangars which face each other. I feel a little safer without all the light.

  The shiff’s movement stops between the two rows of buildings. We watch as a truck backs up towards where it sits on the taxiway. A man is waving his arms. “Okay. A little more,” we hear him yell. The truck continues until we see the man’s arm jerk up. “Whoa! That’s good,” he shouts.

  Suddenly we’re blinded by headlights from a car pulling in between the truck and the building on the left. A split-second later we duck down to hide. I can feel my heart pounding. We look at each other, our eyes a mix of fear and adrenaline. Light is streaming over our heads. Had anybody seen us?

  I turn to run. Jared grabs my arm tightly. I look back at him. He puts his hand out flat, motioning downward. I relax just a little. The light shining over our heads goes out.

  “That was close,” Jared comments, quietly catching his breath.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper hurriedly.

  “No!” he sternly replies. “We’ve come this far,” his sentence trails off implying we have unfinished business.

  I look back down the tracks towards where we left Jennifer hoping she’s okay. The moon clearly lights the old rails and ties as its orbit brings it around south. There are few places to hide. Anybody looking down the tracks would spot us with no problem. Fortunately, no one is looking. Whatever they are doing out there with the shiff is keeping everybody’s attention focused in another direction.

  Jared waves a thumb over his right shoulder. “Let’s get around behind that side of the ramp. I think we’ll be able to see better.” Before I can respond, he’s made his way over the tracks and has disappeared around the corner.

  I take a moment to decide if I should follow him or go find Jen. Like a flash, words from when we used to play out in the plane graveyard corral my urge to run; you never leave your wingman. I follow Jared.

  As I silently cross the tracks, more memories come back. Here, between the tracks that butt up against the ramp, is an old hide and seek favorite. Steps run down to a door leading to a passage under the ramp. Right now it looks like a great place to hide; dark and comforting. Back then Jared told me this passage leads to stairs down to the experimental maglev rail. The door was always locked, and we were never able to explore it.

  I continue around to the back side of the ramp. The dull gray of the aged concrete wall readily shows my shadow in the moonlight. I can’t imagine how we’d be any more visible except if the sun was shining down on us. I follow the concrete to the end of this siding to join Jared, careful not to get cut by still more shreds of aluminum that hadn’t made it into the boxcars. There is little sound to be heard. The erratic shouts of men alternate with eerie silence.

  We raise our heads to look over the concrete ramp. Our view is partially blocked by a few piles of some larger pieces of metal waiting for the next train which never came. It makes good cover for us as we look between the mess.

  The shiff and the truck haven’t moved. The car is a limousine, and the back door is being opened for someone. I wonder if it’s the investors Jared’s dad is hosting who will be getting a close up look at the inside of the shiff. Lucky for them if they are.

  Lights on the back of the truck are turned on illuminating four men standing on top of a maintenance lift that has been rolled out of the nearest hangar between the truck and the shiff. I notice a small box resting at their feet as the lift rises up to the hatch. I know there aren’t any people on the space plane, but they seem in a hurry to get something out of it.

  The guards we had seen earlier are more visible as they casually take new positions. I notice patches on their uniforms for the first time. They are only corporate security guards. But that captain. He is dressed like a military man. Just the same, they are all looking outward, and I’m surprised they haven’t spotted us. Maybe our heads just look like smaller rocks among the debris. We watch. And listen.

  “Have you instructed your men, Captain?” the man from the limo asks. He’s wearing a dark suit, with a tie, like somebody you might see in a corporate board room.

  “Yes sir,” comes the curt reply. “No word of this night will ever be discussed by any of these men.”

  “I hope not,” says the other. “This is not a discovery we want the world at large to hear about. At least not yet. Make sure that is fully understood.”

  “Yes sir,” snaps the captain a second time. “Completely understood, sir.”

  Jared and I look at each other for an instant, forgetting our peril. Anxiety pushes its way up again as I realize we are witnessing something that we probably shouldn’t be.

  Two of the men on the lift hurriedly disappear inside the now open hatch with the small black box. In what seems seconds later, the other two are reaching in to receive the box again. It can’t be more than twelve inches by eighteen inches. I see two handles, a heavy latch in between on the side facing us, and similar handles on each end. At first glance, it looks like a small casket.

  One of the men on the outside stumbles as he reaches to take the end handle from the inside man, missing the handoff as he loses his balance. It appears the now loose end of the box is floating up a small amount much like a helium balloon might. There is cursing from the suited man on the ground. The second outside man regains control of his end, careful not to miss getting his grip this time.

  “Don’t let that go, gentlemen, or we’ll need a helicopter to retrieve it,” the man in the dark suit commands, “at about forty-five thousand feet, I would imagine.” He concludes with a devious sounding laugh.

  The box looks like it should be heavy with the steel reinforced corners and thick steel hinges glinting in the light. Whatever is inside of it is affecting the weight in a way I would not have believed if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Finally, the lift is lowered and the unusual cargo disappears inside the truck. “Hold it down until it’s firmly tied,” the man in the suit orders as he intently watches the activity in the back of the truck.

  A minute later, the two men from the lift come out of the truck, and its doors are closed and locked from the outside. One of the men approaches the captain who is standing along side the man in the suit. His face is clearly lit.

  Standing erect and looking nervous, he speaks briskly to the captain. “Sir! As we were closing the lid on the box inside the craft, one of the plastic bags rose up and got pinched, breaking the seal on the bag. Some of the, uh, contents, escaped before we could get it closed up again.”

  “Idiots!” the man in the suit angrily screams.

  The captain addresses the uniformed man. “Secure the lift back in the hangar and prepare to move out,” he orders. As the guard leaves he turns to th
e suited man. If he hadn’t been facing our direction we would never have heard him.

  “With respect, sir, we have no protocol for this type of situation. In fact, this accidental discovery has the potential to change the world in ways I’m sure no one has thought about.” His voice is agitated. Perhaps a bit worried, too.

  The man in the suit has quickly regained his composure. “Hopefully there’s still enough there for us to study its anti-gravity properties and, before this bird is dismantled,” he continues, looking towards the shiff, “whatever has escaped will need to be reacquired. We can’t have accidental discoveries just floating around now, can we?”

  “No sir. Very well, sir,” the captain replies.

  “Now pack it up and let’s get out of here,” the suited man anxiously suggests.

  “Yes sir.” The captain gives the order for the guards to return to their vehicles. As the man in the suit walks back to his car, motors come to life with a hum and the captain yells, “Let’s roll!” Then he jumps into the car which circles around to follow the truck.

  They’re gone. Only the tow tractor driver and a few members of the ground crew remain. We watch as they roll the shiff into the hangar nearest us, the large door closing noisily behind it, leaving the taxiway in silence. Then the rest of the lights are shut off.

  Jared and I drop down behind the concrete ramp. Our breathing slowly returns to normal as we look at each other in disbelief at what we have seen and heard. Neither of us says anything, perhaps in fear that we might be heard by anyone returning to the outside of the hangar.

  Another minute passes before we start moving quietly back along the ramp to the rail trench and towards Jennifer. We stay low to keep from being discovered. The moon now seems brighter as it struggles against the dark of night in its need to shine on the landscape around us.

  We’re soon back to where we think Jennifer should be. At first I believe she has hidden herself to tease us. But as we look around it’s obvious that she has gone.

  I look at Jared. “She must have gotten tired of waiting for us and gone back,” I whisper. We both raise our eyes to look in the direction of The Hill. There is a flickering, pale yellow light peeking over the tops of the scrub. The sweat turns cold as it runs down my back.

  We make our way back up the tracks quickly, heedless of the little critters we had so purposely tried to avoid when we came down earlier. Neither of us speaks a word, fearing the worst. Have we been found out? Will armed guards be waiting for us to get back? Did they find Jen?

  We keep up the pace for about five minutes, then leave the rail siding to get to The Hill. The firelight gets brighter. We walk more carefully, trying to see what we might be getting in to before we get into it. I can hear voices. They don’t sound military. Then a chorus of laughter breaks out.

  “Kylie!” Jared says roughly, stepping into the light of the fire they have started. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just came out to see what you guys were doing,” she says, sounding sweetly innocent, “but nobody was here.”

  “All we’ve been doing is watching the landing,” Jared firmly states. I think Kylie senses there is more.

  “Then where were you just coming from?” she asks.

  “We just walked away to take a pee is all,” Jared lies.

  “For thirty-five minutes?” She sounds more suspicious.

  “I heard her yelling for us,” Jennifer interrupts, “and thought somebody better get back here to keep her company.”

  “Good thinking, Jen,” I say. “Has the fire been going long?”

  “Only twenty minutes or so,” she replies.

  “I hope nobody else saw it.”

  I try to relax. Jennifer has brought the folding chairs back out. She and Kylie have apparently been sitting, enjoying the fire and making small talk. Jared takes the third chair while I improvise, trying to get comfortable on one of the larger rocks that had been too big to move.

  The fire crackles and its warmth feels good, steaming my damp shirt dry. I look over the fire at the two girls sitting across from me. Even though one of those girls is Jared’s little sister, this is first time we’ve all been out here together. I smile to myself. Apart from the landing, this night begins to feel kind of special in another way.

  Eventually I begin to review the landing and everything that has happened since. My memory is clear; I had heard the words ‘accidental discovery’ and ‘anti–gravity’. I recall, with renewed amazement, the sight of that box rising. The wonder and potential of anti-gravity dominate my thoughts as they have so many times before. Has it finally happened?

  “What’s that?” Jared whispers, interrupting my thoughts.

  We all strain our ears trying to shut out the soft crackle of the fire.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Kylie says quickly.

  But there is a sound and it’s coming closer. I hear the whirring of a motor. Someone is driving in our direction.

  “Should we hide?” asks Jen nervously.

  “No use in that,” answers Jared. “The car is almost here and the fire’s going so there’s no point denying we’re here.”

  We sit awaiting our fate.

  Soon a black car comes into sight. My heart stops. I look at Jared, who is looking at me, anxiety visibly rising in his eyes. It’s the same car we had seen at the hangars. The one the man in the suit, and that captain had gotten into.

  “Try to relax,” Jared says quietly. I can see he is having a difficult time heeding his own advice. Kylie looks at us. I’m sure she’s aware of our apprehension now. Jen wearily stares into the fire.

  The car comes to a stop. The door behind the driver opens and the captain steps out, a serious look on his face. He stands beside the open door as the front passenger door opens and another head pops up. It looks over the hood of the car in our direction.

  “Daddy!” exclaims Kylie with surprise. She gets up and takes a few steps toward the car, acting like she knows she isn’t supposed to be out here. He closes the door and walks around the front of the car, stopping not too far from the military man.

  “Hi sweetie,” he says with a fatherly tone.

  Jen looks back over her shoulder and now stands up to turn around. “Hi, Mr. Charles.” Jared and I stand also, not saying anything. The captain says nothing but is looking hard at each of us in turn. It’s difficult to return his penetrating gaze.

  “Hello, Jennifer,” Jared’s dad finally says. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.” He smiles. We all relax a little bit. “Did you see the landing like you hoped to?” he continues after a few seconds.

  “Sure did, and it was really neat,” Jared replies, coming to life. I think his voice sounds a little strained. “Came in right in front of us.”

  There is a short, awkward moment. Mr. Charles looks at the captain who still stares menacingly at us. Then the captain asks, “And how long did you watch after the landing?”

  “Not long, sir,” I answer, thinking maybe I should take some of the heat off Jared. “I mean, there were a few lights over by the runway, but we figured they were just putting the bird away. It’s too far away to really see anything.” Instantly I remember Jared’s telescope and the binoculars Jen and I had brought, wondering if she had brought them out again with the chairs. I shuffle my feet a little bit, absently looking around. I can’t see them anywhere.

  “C’mon captain,” Mr. Charles finally says. “If you were a teenager sitting around a campfire on a cool spring evening, on the last weekend before school ends, what would you be thinking about?”

  Kylie giggles. The captain leans into the open door. We hear some murmuring from inside to which he responds. I guess it is the man in the dark suit. “Okay,” the captain finally says. “Let’s go.”

  As he walks back around the front of the car, Mr. Charles says, “Don’t you kids stay out here too late. And make sure that fire’s out when you leave.”

  We each acknowledge his statement in some way as his door closes.
The captain turns his suspicious, dark eyes on us one more time before getting into the car. The door closes, and the car slowly turns around and drives off.

  We stand, watching until it’s out of sight. I feel completely drained as I drop down onto the rock again. Jared pulls his chair a little closer to the fire and collapses into it. Jennifer is over by the cooler. “Anybody want anything?” she asks softly.

  “I could use something,” I answer.

  Kylie brings me the soda Jen hands her, pulling her chair up on my right-hand side. Jared sits across from me, with Jen sitting down next to him in the chair across from Kylie. We stare into the fire for a while. Finally, Jen breaks the silence.

  “So, what did you guys see?” She almost sounds afraid to ask.

  “First,” says Jared, staring into the fire, “I need to know that, whatever we tell you guys, you’ll keep just between the four of us.” He speaks firmly, and as he finishes looks directly at Kylie.

  She seems a little put off by the embarrassingly big brother-like demand. I look at her wondering if she is any good at keeping secrets. She looks around at each of us and then at Jared, and nods agreement.

  Jared tells the story, letting me fill in a piece here and there. He takes almost a half-hour, embellishing some parts more than necessary. He mentions the box, and how they want to keep its contents secret, but fails to reveal how it had appeared to float. I glance at him with a questioning look. He returns a slight, sideways nod, masked by the flickering shadows of the fire, which suggests I not fill in that part.

  When he is finished, silence surrounds us. I get up to add a couple pieces of wood to the fire. We watch them burn down, each one of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Forty-five minutes later, we quietly get up, put the fire out, and head home.

  Our Close Call

  It seems unnaturally dark as I walk down the road. The moon and stars are veiled by a thick layer of clouds. The air is heavy, like a hot day after it rains. My feet drag my shoes along. They feel like they’re covered with mud. I don’t exactly know. I do know I’m trying to get home. Fear grips my heart. I sense I’m being watched.