Gerdean, reading from her novel, "The Zooid Mission"

Chapter 8: NEW PERSPECTIVES


ON MONDAY FOLLOWING THE PARTY, Sylvia reappraised her life. For the first time, she had given a party and nobody came. Oh, people came, all right. Hundreds of people actually, but not Audley, not Brad, not even Doc Will. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonesome. It was obviously time for her to change her ways.
A call to Malibu proving fruitless, she called Martha in Santa Barbara and ascertained that Doc Will had unexpectedly left with his patient. The IOF referred her to Oscar where she learned that Brad had spent the weekend moving the IOF computer system to his Manhattan apartment. And last but not least, she learned that her husband had departed for New York City without leaving word as to when he might return. His law office gave her the number of the Grand Hotel where he could be reached. She had already decided, however, not to tell him that she had a job or where she would be.
UPI gave her the name and address of Twilah Leighton, the woman who had spotted the UFO on the night of August 14th and wired her that she was coming. After confirming her plane reservation she re-dialed Oscar and instructed him to secure a four-wheel drive vehicle and a metal detector and to meet her at the Williamsport, Pennsylvania, airport as soon as he could get there. She then carefully selected a few items for her overnight bag and dressed for her undertaking. Gathering the checks and pledges from the party in her purse, along with her wedding rings, she then left her Beverly Hills mansion with no remorse and no plans to return.

Several hours later she and Oscar were driving into the backcountry of rural central Pennsylvania where the UFO sighting had allegedly taken place. To Sylvia, set free and on assignment, the drive proved to be pure adventure. She felt appropriately dressed in a designer safari suit, a soft red V-neck sweater, oxford boots and safari hat. Looking out to the gently rolling fields, accented here and there by stately red barns and white fences, she remarked, "It's so picturesque, don't you think, Oscar?"
Oscar's post-adolescent fervor hardly extended beyond the scent of Sylvia's perfume. "Yes, Ma'am. It's real pretty."
She turned her full attention to the view. The expanse spread out before them as they sought out Rural Free Delivery #3. Rows of mailboxes at the end of unpaved roads indicated life was there somewhere, but it wasn’t evident. Referring to the hand-scrawled map that she had taken from the County Sheriff's instructions, she told Oscar to “Slow down!” while she watched for a dirt road that turned right at the top of the hill. "Here, Oscar. Stop! Turn here!"
Oscar hit the brakes, turning up the dust. "Sorry about that, Ma'am. I wasn't sure you meant to turn here. It hardly looks like a hill to me."
She shook the dust from her clothes impatiently. "Of course it's a hill, you fool. It comes up and then goes down. Doesn't that constitute a hill?"
He turned right and followed two ruts leading through a field of high grass. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" He was grinning, enjoying the rough terrain and Sylvia's dismay.
"Slow down!" she cried out.
He slowed to a reasonable pace: 10 mph. "How far do we crawl from here?" he asked.
"Half a mile," she managed to say, hanging on to the frame of the Jeep as though she were riding a run-away horse. "At the fork in the road you veer left."
"What road?" he joked.
"Just veer left!" It was more of an adventure than she had bargained for. She only hoped that it proved her hunch correct.
Beyond the next bend, down a steep slope on the north side of the hill, stood a small ramshackle homestead, the home of Miss Twilah Leighton. In the side yard stood an old windmill, slowly going round, and in the opposite yard was an old oil well, slowly pumping up and down. There were half a dozen outbuildings looking fairly seedy, and the main house was small and very dilapidated. The front porch sloped to the side, the shingles were all mis-matched in patches on the roof, and the wood frame structure was badly in want of a new coat of paint.
Miss Leighton was on the front porch waiting for them. She waved her blue cotton handkerchief in greeting as the Jeep came around the bend. "Yoo hoo!" she called. The Jeep pulled to an abrupt stop in the high grass and wildflowers of the front yard.
Miss Leighton was a very old woman, but she had all her teeth and her smile was enough to brighten anyone's day. Sylvia liked her at once. They shook hands. Miss Leighton insisted they both call her Twilah, then she led the way into the house, which was cool and cheerful. The floor was bare wood with throw rugs everywhere. The sofa was threadbare but comfortable. There didn't appear to be a television set. The 1940's style radio was surrounded by a plethora of family photos on the buffet. Old floral print curtains hung drearily, in need of a good starching.
From the sofa where Sylvia found herself, she could see into the kitchen. On the sink was a pump, from which Twilah maneuvered water for the teakettle. The cookies she had especially made for the occasion, still warm from the oven, were placed on the coffee table on Depression Era glass.
"I seldom get any company," Miss Leighton said. "It makes me nervous!" She giggled, stuffing strands of wiry white hair into pins behind her ears.
"We're not exactly company, Miss Leighton," Sylvia objected, but Miss Leighton wouldn't hear of it.
"You are too company! And call me Twilah, I told you. If you lived out here in the sticks you'd know what I mean. All's I ever see is the mailman if’n I get out there early enough to meet him when he comes, and two or three times a year Old Man Oldecker will come check up on me and bring me some eggs or a plucked chicken."
"Don't you ever get out? Go anywhere?” Sylvia asked conversationally. "Do you ever go into town?"
"Onct a month," the old lady nodded. "I get young Buck Thornton to drive me in for supplies or whatever I might need but I don't need much. I got my Sears catalog, of course."
"Of course," Sylvia agreed, as though the Sears catalog was the accepted tie with civilization.
"But you didn't come all the way out here to hear about my raggedy life, did you?"
"No," Oscar offered, receiving in exchange a piercing scowl from Sylvia.
"Why don't you go outside and play, Oscar?" she said rather tersely, and was pleased to see him so compliant.
"I'll just wait outside, then," he said.
"I'll be sure and call you when tea is ready," Twilah offered, then turned back to Sylvia to say, "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, the night of August 14th.”
Sylvia took out a pad and pencil and in the process flipped a switch on a tape recorder she had stashed in her bag.
"Yes," Sylvia urged. "Tell me everything, from the beginning."
"Well," Twilah began, her eyes large and her hands worrying her blue handkerchief, "it was just getting dark. I had been in town that day. I had to go in to arrange for my winter corn supply. And I was tuckered. So I was just settin'. Settin' right out there on the front porch. It was a hot night. August gets downright sticky here, and I was just settin' on the front porch there in my rocker, like I do all summer long, just lookin' at the sky and the stars. It was a pretty big moon that night. I don't know if'n it was full, but it was pretty close, so I could see real good. If somebody was to walk through the field out yonder, I could'a seed him, you know? It was that bright out."
"Were you drinking anything, Twilah?" She had to make sure the old lady wasn't in her cups and seeing things.
"Why sure! I had a quart of pump water. Like I said, it was a very hot night."
Sylvia nodded.
"Then all of a sudden I saw this bright light in the sky. I didn't know what it was. I thought it might be Haley's Comet or a satellite or something because I couldn't hear no noise and I can always hear it if it's an airplane, but it weren't no airplane. I don't for sure know what it was."
"Can you describe it?"
"Not really. It was just this big fat bright light."
"How long did you see it? Did it move?"
"Oh, yes, it moved! That was what made me so scared! It was comin' right at me! I saw it first way out in the distance. I thought it was just another star -- it fit right in with all the others -- then this particular one -- I thought it was a star, you know -- it starts coming down like a falling star, only slower. But it definitely was moving and it was coming in my direction. It got bigger and brighter 'til I thought it would explode!"
In her telling the story and reliving the excitement, Twilah got up and paced the wood floor, pulling at her handkerchief, remembering her fright.
"As I said, it came right toward me. And it was so big and so bright, it got way brighter than the moonlight. It was like broad daylight! I could see all the way to the Oldecker's farm three miles away and I could see their silo as plain as you can see it now in the light of day."
"What happened to the light, Twilah? Did it extinguish?"
Twilah ignored the long word. "It just went out.” "Did it make a noise?”
"Well, not really," Twilah said, resuming her seat on the hassock. "Except I could hear a big crack when it went out."
"A crack? Like what kind of a crack?"
"Like it hit a tree of something. It sounded like the crack of a branch breaking off a tree."
"But whatever it was, whatever caused the light, that didn't make any noise at all?"
"Nope."
"What about a smell? Could you smell anything?"
Twilah scowled then shook her head. "Nope. No smell."
"Did any of your neighbors see it, too?" Sylvia asked, ever so much like a reporter.
"Not that I know of. Like I told you, I don't see many people out here. Old Man Oldecker came over a couple of days after that and I asked him about it but he didn't see nothin’ ‘cause him and his wife were in town visiting their eldest boy and they didn't even come home that night. They spent the night there. His eyes aren't as good as they used to be."
"Did you see where the light went out? Approximately?”
"Sure did." She got up quickly for a lady her age, and led Sylvia to the window. She pointed. "See yonder where that bird flies?"
"Um-hum."
"Long about there the light started to fade. As I said, I was settin' on the front porch and it was comin' right at me, so I was glad to see it go out. But I'd been lookin' at it, so when the light did go out, all I could see was this big spot in front of my eyes and I couldn't blink it away."
"Like when a flashbulb...?" Sylvia sympathized.
"Yeah, like that. Anyway, I couldn't see too good after the light went out, but I was sure glad it didn't hit me. I was full well prepared to meet my Maker. Fact is, I closed my eyes and was prayin' for mercy when I heard the crack."
"The light was out, though, before you heard the crack?"
"Oh, yeah. Several seconds."
"Where did the sound of the crack come from, do you remember that?"
"Sure do." Now Twilah led Sylvia out onto the porch and pointed to a grove of trees toward the southwest. "That gully there. Somewhere down in that gully."
"Did you go down to look?"
"Land sakes, child! Do I look like a youngun to you? I cain't be traipsin’ up and down the hills like a youngun!"
"What about Mr. Oldecker? Did he go down?"
"Shoot," she lamented. "Old Man Oldecker is 94. He can still traipse around, but not that good."
"When did you call the newspaper?"
"I never did call no newspaper." She went back into the cool of the house to turn off the whistling teakettle. "I almost didn't call nobody. People around these parts already think I'm off my rocker just because I won't move into town and have the County take care of me. This is my home, you know." She went off on a tangent, emotionally riled. "I was borned in this house 87 years ago. ‘Twas built by my pappy when he brought home his bride, and I was their firstborn. The only one borned, actually. Ma died having me then Pa took care of me 'til I was old enough to take care of him and me both. I don't need no County home!" She poured water in large mugs and dunked a Lipton tea bag vigorously up and down in each. "I figured I'd better tell somebody, seein's how I'd never heard tell of such a sight. What if’n it was the Russians or the Chinese? I’d’a never’ve heard the end of it. So I called. Cost me 27 cents, too, it did."
"Who did you call?"
"Called the Sheriff. Sheriff Baker is a nice man. He comes out to see me every time there's an election. He brings me my ballot and has a cup of tea while I decide who to vote for. He usually has to tell me who to vote for since I don't get the paper and I only listen to the music on the radio."
"Didn't Sheriff Baker come out and have a look around?"
"Nope. He didn't. He said, 'Well, if you see it again, let me know.' He pretty much puts up with me. What's the word? What do you call it? Oh, I don't know. He...."
"Humors you? Tolerates you?"
"That's it. He tolerates me. Treats me like I was three years old." Twilah tossed the old tea bags into the sink and carried two cups into the living room, leaving Oscar's on the sideboard.
"I reckon the young man will come back," she said.
"I reckon he better!" Sylvia added. "So how did the newspapers get hold of it?"
"Get aholt of what?"
"The news. Saying you had seen a UFO?"
"The party line," she said, matter of factly. "Can't say nothin' on that phone without somebody listenin' in. I 'spect it was Madeline Templeton, that new woman in town. She don't have enough to do out here in the sticks, so she listens to everybody else's business."
"And you think she called UPI?"
"Who's You-Pea-Eye?"
"United Press International."
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that."
"Would you mind if Oscar and I traipsed around down in the gully to see if we can find anything?"
"Heck, no. I'd go with you if I could be sure these old legs would get me back up the hill, which I can't be sure of anymore. But you go ahead if you're sure that's what you want to do. I wouldn't think you'd want to get your purty clothes all messed up."
"Oh, that's okay," Sylvia said, looking at her boots.
"That gully gets mighty soggy when it rains. You might want to borry my galoshes to keep your nice boots clean."
Sylvia had to recognize that even in her safari outfit, she was overdressed. "Thanks. Maybe I will."

They went onto the porch, leaving the hot tea in the living room for later. Sylvia tugged on a pair of wool socks and the rubber boots before climbing into the Jeep and laying on the horn to rouse Oscar. In a few seconds he came tearing out of one of the half dozen out buildings, tugging at his pants.
"Where to now, Boss?" he asked, scrambling into the driver's seat.
"Straight down the hill there into the gully."
Oscar grinned. Must be something in the air out here in the country that would have Sylvia plowing into the underbrush and him using a privy.
The field was easier to drive through than the road had been. Twilah was right. The summer rains had made the gully soggy. Mosquitoes bit their hands and faces as they drove through the underbrush to the grove of trees where, allegedly, the UFO had landed.
"What are we looking for, Boss?" he asked, foraging a new road into the bushes.
"A broken branch, first of all. A good sized branch."
He turned off the engine. "We're going to have to walk from here," he advised. "It's getting too thick to drive."
As they got out of the Jeep they both noticed the wheels were sunk at least four inches into the mire.
"You sure we won't get stuck?"
"Sure I'm sure. That's what these babies are for."
The creatures of the thicket, -- bullfrogs, crickets, birds, all sorts of wild creatures -- silenced their voices in protest to the intrusion. Sylvia's voice automatically sank to a whisper.
"A big tree, remember, with a broken branch."
"Right."
"And don't lose me."
"You can't get lost in here," he said. "It isn't big enough to get lost in."
Oscar was wrong. Sylvia did get lost, lost to the other-worldliness of the gully, which was thick and dense and verdant and fragrant and entirely consuming. Overhead she could hear the distant chirping of the birds and see the pale blue sky made as lace by the distant leaves of the treetops. It took her breath away. Looking down, in response to a small splash, she saw a fat toad-like creature sitting on a smooth, round rock covered with slick dark green moss in a freshwater spring that trickled and gurgled, the sunlight dancing on its surface.
Small forests of fern accented like a checkmark a patchwork quilt of purple ground-cover with tiny white flowers, mixed with mounds of cocoa and gold–colored mulch. Sylvia was quite lost in this world far removed from Beverly Hills. She paused to wonder how she had managed to survive twenty-seven years in such an ivory tower. Taking the job with Brad, she reflected, was the smartest thing she had ever done.
"Over here!" Oscar yelled.
"Where?"
"Over here!"
Several minutes later she had made her way through the thicket, mud up to her ankles, her designer pants snagged beyond repair by thorns from red raspberry bushes. Mosquito bites welted her hands and fingers. "My God!" she said when she caught up with him. "It's a jungle!”
"Here's your branch," Oscar said, pointing. After a quick glance at the broken limb, which was a good twelve inches thick, she looked at the ground where the UFO must have landed. The Urth was totally unblemished, with the exception of the broken limb. There was not a mark on the ground.
"I don't know how you could tell if there was a mark," Oscar pitched in. "As thick as this growth is, if something was here, it would have been covered up by now."
"You're probably right, but let's look anyway. Where's the metal detector?" An hour later, filthy from one end to the other and smelling of skunk cabbage, they finished. Placing the soil samples in a box in the back of the Jeep, she lamented, "There's nothing here. Nothing at all."
"Well, what did you expect? A nose cone?"
Sylvia scowled at him. "A Martian flag."
He helped her into the vehicle then skillfully maneuvered it out of the mud and up to higher and dryer ground. When they arrived back at the house, Twilah was nodding her head, fast asleep in her rocking chair on the front porch.
"Maybe we should just go," Oscar suggested. "It's a long drive back to the airport."
"You just hold your horses, young man," Sylvia said, falling in with the local vernacular. "We haven't had our tea yet and Miss Leighton went to a lot of trouble to brew us a cup and put out homemade cookies." She touched the old lady on the knee but Twilah was sound asleep, snoring slightly. They went inside and quickly drank the now cold tea and took a handful of cookies. Oscar looked at the dozen and more family photographs on the buffet while Sylvia wrote Miss Leighton a note, not knowing for sure if Twilah could read. She then put the empty cups on the sideboard and went outside to knock the mud off the galoshes. By now Twilah was awake.
"You back already?"
"Back, yes," Sylvia said, "and ready to go. I want to thank you for your hospitality."
"Well, shucks," Miss Leighton said, getting up. "It was my pleasure. Come back and visit again sometime." Oscar came out just then and she demanded to know if he had gotten enough cookies. "Do you want a glass of milk, young man?"
Oscar blushed. "No, Ma'am. The tea was fine. Thank you."
She took the muddy boots away from Sylvia and shooed them towards the Jeep. "You leave them for me. I just hope you got what you was after."
She saw them out and into the vehicle. When they were seated and buckled up, Twilah asked, "Tell me, are the woods still cool and damp?"
"They certainly are," Oscar volunteered.
"There’s frogs and ferns and lots of little flowers?"
Sylvia nodded, smiling. "And red raspberries."
"And skunk cabbage, too. I can smell it on you." Her old nose wrinkled. "Well, I guess I'm not missin' much of anything then." She seemed resigned to her limitations.
"Not a thing," Sylvia assured her. "You've got everything you need right here."
Twilah Leighton patted her hand, stood back and waved the old blue hanky. "Come again, you hear?"
Oscar insisted it was a wild goose chase, but Sylvia argued she would not have missed it for anything.
 

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