“We’re actually dumping it into a chest freezer, like a bunch of mobsters?” Nat let go of the lid and it slammed down.

  “We could put it in Patrick’s father’s meat locker,” I offered.

  “Not a friggin’ chance, boy-o. Not the least because Dad would find it within a day. He can sense when that freezer door is opened from miles away. And he has the complete inventory in his head.”

  Nat chortled. Mr. Jordan’s parsimonious nature was a well-established joke around town.

  “Come to think of it,” Patrick mused, “he might just chop up the corpse and try to pass it off as pork.”

  “What about it being discovered here?” Natalie pointed at the freezer.

  “I don’t think Mom and Dad even know we still have this,” I replied. “I was supposed to get rid of it, and never got around to it.” I tapped the top of the appliance. “The lid won’t stay up. Mom got whacked on the head twice and decreed that it would be replaced.” I pointed to some hay bales at the back of the barn. “Actually, I think we should move it there, so it’s out of sight. I’ll need to get an extension cord.”

  “What if it’s not dead?” Natalie asked. “What if we actually kill it by freezing it?”

  “Crushed head. Hasn’t moved. Isn’t breathing. Body has cooled.” Patrick shook his head. “Seriously, I think that ship has sailed.”

  “Fine,” Natalie said. “Now what?”

  “Well, tomorrow’s Saturday, so we have the weekend to search.” I paused. “Meanwhile, I have to tell my dad about the accident, while maybe leaving out a few details. I guess I’ll be borrowing the Buick for a few days while the truck is in the shop.”

  Patrick grinned at me. “And I’ll be making Grampa jokes the whole time.”

  “Thanks, Patrick. Appreciate the support.”

  His grin turned into a laugh. “C’mon, dude, that car is at the opposite end of the planet from cool. You should consider getting a baseball cap and pulling it down low. Or maybe a balaclava.”

  Now Nat was smiling too. “I have an aunt I could set you up with, Jack. Mint juleps by the shuffleboard court, evenings spent comparing liniments—”

  “Shut up!” I put on my best angry face and grabbed for their throats, and they scattered, laughing. And for a brief moment, we were back in high school, and the future stretched ahead, full of possibilities. Before everything went to shit for all of us.

  Chapter Three: Treasure Hunt

  Day 2. Saturday morning

  My prediction was right on the money. Dad stood staring at the damage to the truck, his expression a mix of hurt and disappointment. I would almost rather have him yell and rant. At least it would be over quickly. The walking-on-eggshells thing ever since I’d come back from college made me feel like some kind of invalid.

  My father was a special forces veteran, with multiple tours under his belt. But he was a quiet, thoughtful individual, slow to anger. Still, you wouldn’t want to push him.

  “No idea what it was, Jack?”

  “No, Dad. There was nothing around. I figure it was an animal, deer or something maybe, and it ran away.”

  He touched the dented quarter panel, as if he could divine more information from the contact. “That’s a helluva crunch, son. If that deer survived, it didn’t last long.”

  “Long enough to leave the scene, apparently,” I said. My reply sounded testy even to me, and he turned his head with a surprised look.

  “I don’t blame you for this, Jack. I took out a moose once. Well, I expect the moose saw it differently. Totalled the pickup. So I guess that was a draw.”

  “That was at night.”

  I wondered, even as I said it, what I thought I was doing. My father had given me an out and I was volleying it back into play.

  “True, but deer can move fast,” he said. “It’s entirely possible you didn’t see it because it leaped onto the road. The delivery truck is not a hot rod, despite the way you drive it. Still, it looks like you’ll be on foot for a while, unless you’re willing to take the Buick.”

  I made no comment, determined to let this one go by.

  It was well after nine when Patrick and Natalie finally arrived. As I spotted her getting out of his car, I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy, followed immediately by shame. I’d been off at college for the last couple of years, leaving her behind with an ailing father to support and no prospect of a way out. Since I’d been back, I had avoided her, even to the extent of not answering her texts. I certainly had no claim on her, and honestly, I was amazed she was still talking to me.

  Patrick stopped just inside the door and said, “Hey, you moved that freezer all by yourself?”

  “Yeah, with the pallet jack.”

  As we talked, we walked around the old hay bales to the back of the barn, where the freezer sat in semi-darkness. An extension cord stretched off into the dimness. Natalie opened the lid for a moment and gazed down at the alien corpse. Frost now covered the fur. “That’s still just completely unreal. Have you taken vids of everything?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know how much good it’ll do,” Patrick replied. “Deep fakes are becoming so convincing these days that a video on its own means nothing. What we really need is a light saber or a blaster. Cut a car in half right in front of a bunch of reporters, and you bet people will start paying attention.”

  “Or even better, we could produce a flying saucer,” I replied.

  Patrick snickered. “One that actually flies.”

  “Fine. I’m not trying to back out.” Natalie made a face and gestured at the corpse. “But there are probably a whole lot of ethical and legal questions being raised here.”

  “I know, Nat. And we’ll turn it over in a day or two, even if we don’t find a spaceship.” I looked at her with a frown. “And we’ll accept that we’ll never learn anything more about it.”

  Natalie’s lips tightened. “Hey, don’t lecture me, buster. You have your engineering degree to look forward to, more or less, and Patrick will take over his family business. I’m the one who’s going to rot in this town and eventually die of terminal mediocrity.”

  Natalie had always planned to get her MBA. Her mother’s death and father’s descent into Alzheimer’s had put an end to any career plans. Yet another reason for me to feel shame for the way I’d been treating her.

  Patrick, trying to smooth things over, interjected, “And I’m sure someone will want to autopsy it. Maybe we can sell it to the highest bidder.”

  “I think that comes under the heading of ethical questions,” I said. “Maybe instead we’ll sell the spaceship and throw in the alien corpse.”

  “Whatever, man. As long as there’s a pile of money involved.”

  “Fine.” I moved to my work area, threaded past the easy chairs and coffee table, and pulled open a drawer to reveal the alien gadgets and utility belt. “Now, how do we handle this?”

  Patrick frowned and scratched his head. “Good question. Taft County is, what? Six hundred square miles? And that’s assuming we only have to search within the county.”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” Natalie said. “Chewbacca was on foot, right? Why would an alien land at point A, then walk a huge distance to point B? I bet he was pretty close to his ship when you, uh … ”

  “Killed him.”

  I gave Patrick a tired look. “Thanks for that, Patrick. And you’re probably right, Nat. Unless he was beamed down or dropped off or something.” I paused and tapped my chin. “Look, if there’s no ship, there’s no ship. But for now, let’s assume there is one and plan accordingly. Worst case, we waste a few hours walking around. At least for an initial search, we should center around the accident site.” Again I paused. “We need a map of the area, if only to mark off where we’ve gone.”

  “I have a Rand McNally map book in my car,” Patrick replied. “And I’m driving anyway, since Jack busted up his ride. Plus, no one wants to be caught dead in the Buick. Speaking of which, did you talk to your dad?”

  “Yeah, and it was every bit as uncomfortable as I expected. He acts like he’s scared I’ll shatter if he raises his voice.”

  Both Patrick and Natalie made sympathetic faces, but neither commented.

  We all piled into Patrick’s car, an old Plymouth Duster with a column shift and a bench seat, with Nat in the middle. Patrick had owned the vehicle since before he could drive, and still managed to find parts to keep it running. Some of the parts were definitely not original equipment, though; a car buff would notice right away that the rumble under the hood wasn’t a stock slant-six.

  The drive out to Poller Road passed in complete silence except for a few directions from me. Otherwise, my mind swirled with out-of-control images and fantasies of ever-more-unbelievable spaceships and wormhole generators. I was pretty sure Patrick and Nat were going through similar internal monologues.

  Patrick parked on the side of the road, almost in the ditch. On the right, a slight hill with a dense copse of trees hid a view of the outskirts of Dunnville, the Valley Mall, and the Tate Industrial Park, where Nat worked. On the left, a rickety split rail fence demarked a sparsely treed meadow that had been allowed to go wild.

  It was already hotter than yesterday, still a little before noon. Even the cicada chorus seemed to have packed it in for siesta. I took a deep breath and could feel the heat in the air. I brought my friends over to where I’d found the body, pointing out the depression in the grass. A day after the event, the foliage had almost completely recovered, so you’d have to know it was there to even notice it.

  “Where was the truck when you hit the alien?” Patrick asked.

  I looked around, then paced back about twenty feet along the road. “Maybe here?”

  “You were out of the curve, so you were going straight, right? So for the body to end up on the side of the road here, he must have been coming from there.” Patrick pointed to the meadow. “We should check that area first.”

  “Damn, Patrick,” Natalie said. “Nice detective work.”

  Patrick took a slight bow, then said, “Let’s do this.” He marched off across the road and vaulted the old fence. We followed him and climbed over the fence at a more sedate pace.

  Trees and random clumps of brush competed with straw-colored grass that was waist-high in places. “This feels like a busted ankle in the making,” Nat commented. “Watch out for gopher holes.”

  “On the other hand,” I said, “if there’s a flying saucer in here, maybe it will have made an impression, even if it’s invisible.”

  “That’s great, Jack. We could do an aerial search, if only you owned a helicopter,” Nat said.

  “Or a drone,” I replied. “Oh, wait … ” I glared at Patrick.

  Patrick laughed, unrepentant. “I said I’d buy you a new one. Another paycheck or two.”

  “There are a lot of trees,” I said. “Maybe someone can climb up and get an aerial view.” I looked pointedly at Natalie.

  “Someone?”

  “Well, you are the lightest. And the best climber.”

  Nat glared back at me for a moment. She didn’t like being told what to do, but there was no denying the logic. She briefly examined a few candidates, then made off for one of the taller trees.

  Nat spent several minutes high up in the branches, saying nothing, while those of us on the ground became increasingly impatient. Finally, Patrick yelled up, “Well?”

  Nat looked down at us. “I see two spots that look funny. Can’t tell much more from here, though. We’ll have to check out both. First one’s in that direction, maybe a hundred yards.” Nat pointed, then shifted around. “Second one over there, maybe three hundred.”

  “What do they look like?” I called back.

  “Like the grass isn’t as tall, or maybe is partly crushed. I can’t really be sure.”

  A quick glance in the directions Nat had indicated, and with the help of my phone’s compass I was able to mark the spots on Google Maps, at least close enough for our purposes.

  “Which one should we check first?” Patrick asked, as Natalie jumped the last few feet to the ground.

  She made a show of thinking about it, looking up and stroking her chin. “The … closer one?”

  Patrick completely ignored the sarcasm. “Right. Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

  Nat glanced sideways at me as we followed. “Is it my imagination, or does he talk even more like John Wayne than he used to?”

  “What’s killing me is how motivated he is. I feel like, I dunno, like I should be leading this project, but Patrick has basically taken over.”

  “I don’t think he’s as cool with inheriting the butcher shop as he pretends, Jack. I’ve been pretty vocal about being stuck in this Podunk town for the rest of my life, but I think Patrick has just repressed it.”

  I sighed. “And now I might be in the same boat.”

  “Come on. The MIT thing is bad, but I’m sure they’ll find you innocent.”

  “I hope so, but I’ll be happier when it’s over. If they find against me, it’s over. I won’t get in anywhere.”

  Nat made a face. “I’m not really clear on the details. Something about bitcoin?”

  “Someone installed bitcoin mining daemons on all the lab computers using my ID. It caused a couple of other students’ projects to fail, overwhelmed the air conditioners, and eventually tripped a bunch of breakers, and a whole batch of refrigerated biological samples spoiled. A lot of angry people, some missed deadlines, projects that will have to be re-done from scratch, and I’m on the hook. They’ve suspended me pending results of an investigation. Improper use of equipment, theft of services, hacking … you know.”

  Nat shook her head. “You’re not that guy, Jack. But I get that it has put you in a bad spot.”

  I grunted, but didn’t add anything. I still got the falling-elevator sensation whenever I thought about it, so it wasn’t my favorite topic of casual conversation.

  We finished the march in silence. When we caught up with Patrick, he was standing in the middle of a patch of shorter scrub grass, fists on hips, slowly turning in place.

  “It doesn’t really look like a good candidate,” Nat opined.

  “Yeah, but let’s just be thorough anyway, okay?” Patrick said. “Everyone spread out and feel around for something you can’t see.” He put out his arms and began walking around like a sleepwalker, waving his arms in front of him and over his head.

  Nat and I watched the performance for a moment and laughed. Putting out our arms, we began doing the same in an exaggerated manner. Nat moaned loudly like a tortured soul, and I intoned, “Brainssssss … ” Within moments, all three of us were doing our best slow-zombie impersonations.

  Five minutes of staggering around produced no results, however. Patrick finally called it. “Nope. There’s nothing here. Let’s try the other one. Which direction?”

  I checked the phone, then pointed.

  “This doesn’t look any more encouraging,” I said, examining the second location. As with the first, the grass was simply shorter. Not bent, not eaten or cut, just not as tall.

  “I wonder if water would disappear if it hit the ship,” Patrick mused as he wandered around the patch. “Next time we should buy a couple of Super Soakers and just squirt water in all—Ouch!”

  We stared down at Patrick, who had inexplicably fallen over backward and was holding his forehead.

  “Nice trick,” Nat said. “You trying out for a gig as a mime?”

  “I ran into something,” Patrick said, pointing upward with his free hand from his position on the ground.

  Nat and I exchanged a glance, then went into the zombie routine again. This time, though, we quickly found something. Something invisible.

  It seemed to have a hemispherical underside, at least as high up as I could reach. Smooth metal, slightly slick and cool to the touch, no seams or edges that I could find. As the tallest of us by almost half a foot, I was able to walk around and map out the ship. It didn’t come down to ground level, and was maybe twenty feet in diameter. Of course, if the curve extended higher, the actual diameter could have been much larger.

  “Found a leg,” Nat called out.

  Patrick and I hurried over to her side. There was a very slight depression in the soil, hockey-puck shaped, about three feet in diameter. Patrick stamped his foot. “The ground’s dry and packed down. To leave an impression like that, this sucker must be heavy.”

  “I don’t think it’s parked on one leg,” Nat said. “Look around.”

  In short order, we found two other depressions, forming a tripod that would fit comfortably into a twenty-to-twenty-five-foot circle.

  “Tripod. Makes sense.” Nat put her arms around something and began tracing invisible structures with her hands. “Not huge. Also, not cylindrical. Feels like struts and hydraulics. A lot of mechanical detail, anyway.”

  I stood for a few moments, staring up as the reality washed over me. “Holy crap, guys, we found it. An actual flying saucer. Or a spaceship, anyway.” All three of us smiled—big, huge grins.

  “You guys look like the Joker,” Natalie said.

  I pushed on my cheeks, trying to relax the muscles. “This is gonna hurt in a little while.”

  Patrick’s grin disappeared as he gazed up into the seemingly empty air. “Uh, I hadn’t really thought past this point. What now?”

  “We try to get in. Or at least get their attention.” I took off my backpack and reached inside, pulling out the alien gadgets.

  Patrick, still looking up, added, “Maybe we should step out from under the ship first. I’d hate to have a gangplank come down on top of us.”

  “Or we might accidentally retract the landing struts,” Nat added with a laugh.

  Patrick got a frightened look. “Say, what if one of the buttons is a self-destruct? Or a force field, or death ray or something?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I replied. “First, no one’s going to design a gadget that can kill the wearer if they press the wrong button. That sounds like every badly designed piece of equipment in Star Trek that didn’t have a safety interlock. Second, we either do this or we give up right now and hand this over to the government. There is simply no way to mitigate the risk or sneak up on this. Do or do not. There is no try.”