May 19
2 min read
Not From Earth
Last Hope
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…
