The Spaceship Next Door by Gene Doucette

Author:Gene Doucette
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Published: 2015-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

There were many places to tie one on at night in Sorrow Falls. Annie wasn’t terribly familiar with any of them, being a minor, but she’d been inside one or two on certain occasions, such as when her dad was back in town and wanted to take the family out for a meal.

The family dinner establishments were mostly outside the town, in places like Oakdale, Mount Hermon and—in the other direction and somewhat further—Brattleboro. But there were a few quasi-family places, i.e., a place that served dinner and also alcohol, catering to adults but without anyone carding at the door or, if they were asking for ID, not before 10 PM.

One such place was Jock & Jill’s, a sports bar with a name that made it sound a tiny bit like an all-inclusive strip club. To get to it meant going from the diner parking lot (to which they were given a ride by one of the deputies) to the northern conclusion of Main and a dogleg left turn, up the hill on a road called Acorn, toward Durgin. Jock & Jill’s rested atop a small hill at the corner of Durgin and Acorn.

Ed looked about as uncomfortable as he could when he realized the kind of place Annie directed him to.

“This is a bar,” he said, pointing specifically to the onslaught of flashing neon.

“They have great appetizers here. And burgers. I hear good things about their drinks, too. The Martian Margarita’s supposed to be top notch.”

“You can’t go in here, can you? You don’t have a… I mean…”

“What good would a fake I.D. do me, Ed? Practically everyone knows me. Don’t worry, I can go in. The important thing is, the place is dark and loud.”

They took up a booth in a corner in the back of the place, with the waitress—Annie didn’t know her, but thought she looked familiar enough to be an older sibling of someone she did know—giving them the kind of uncomfortable glances people give when they think maybe, perhaps, possibly this older man is on a date with this young girl.

As soon as the waitress set them up with a couple of sodas—she was probably glad nobody at the table was drinking—Annie called up the photo on her phone and slid it to Ed.

“So tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“It’s a copy of a high resolution photo that happens to be incredibly classified. How did it end up on your phone?”

“You didn’t fully answer the question.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

“Ed, is this a handprint on the side of the spaceship?”

“It is. Keep your voice down.”

They were being bombarded on one side by white people classic rock, and on the other by the drone-speak of baseball announcers narrating two different games.

“I promise, nobody can hear us. I can barely hear us.”

“How did you get this?”

“I took it. This is a little embarrassing, but do you remember the day…”

“When you got the text from your mother,” he said, gasping. “I went to get my coat.

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