Not From Earth

Prolog

The Ripley family’s 1946 Hudson Commodore rolled south on Highway 285 toward Roswell, New Mexico. The two daughters, Joyce and Judee, held their spotted English Pointer, Bozo, across their laps and begged their mother once again, “How much longer?”

Fifteen minutes later, their father, Charles Ripley, pulled the smooth-riding heavy green Sedan into a Chevron Gas Station as a well-groomed young man in a white buttoned up shirt with a black bowtie came dashing out to assist. While the eager lad filled the tank, washed the windows, and checked the tires, Charles purchased lunch baskets at the station’s market.

With their tank filled and ready for lunch, they drove into Roswell and found the city park with playgrounds. The girls sprang from the car, screaming and skipping, followed by their excited barking dog. Laughing, their father soon joined them, but their mother, Betty, found a shaded wooden green bench where she could watch her happy family. The date was March of 1947, and she was pregnant.

A soft breeze and the sound of distant laughter helped her relax. She placed her hands on her stomach and smiled at the thought of her unborn son, James. Finally, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and slowly fell into a trans-like sleep while the Aliens watched her.