Alien Affairs

Carrie had asked the pilot of the Company jet to circle the Nazca Valley so that she and Jan could enjoy a free tour of the geoglyphs.

“They are amazing,” Jan said. “What did Deshler say they were for?”

“He didn’t. His sources theorized they were some sort of roadmap for finding water, but they were never sure.”

“What is that one?”

Carrie consulted the legend she printed from Google images. “It’s a six-legged bird head. Can’t you tell?”

The copilot stuck his head into the cabin. “Have you ladies seen enough?”

“Yeah, you can take us down. I guess we had best get to work.”

At the airport the women hired a cab. The driver made a point of telling them that his name was Waldo.

“Where did a Peruvian get a name like that?” Jan asked.

Waldo assured them that he knew the best hotel in town—“quatro estrellas,” he promised. On the way he recommended a restaurant. “Tienen que probar el cuy. Es lo mejor en el centro.”

“What now?”

Carrie explained, “He says this is where we have to have dinner and try the specialty of the house—cuy.”

“What’s cuy?”

“I have no idea.”

When they checked into the Casa Andina the desk clerk gave them each a chit for a complimentary pisco sour, which they redeemed in the bar after escorting the bags to their respective rooms. They enjoyed the tangy, frothy cocktail and had a second. Later they hiked to Waldo’s favorite restaurant and blindly ordered el cuy. A piercing pan-pipe band played Andean versions of rock and roll songs and Carrie was grateful when they took a break.

“Well, we’re here,” Jan said when she could be heard, “what’s the plan?”

“Let’s try the straightforward approach. We’ll rent a car, drive to the exact coordinates and hope we find something laying on the ground with alien writing on it.”

“Surely they would have done something to hide the things from casual passersby.”

“Who knows what an alien might do? We’ll find out in the morning.”

The waiter set a tray onto a folding stand and placed a covered dish in front of each of them, then with a silly flourish, plucked the covers simultaneously.

“Oh, my God!” Jan gasped.

Carrie stared at the naked guinea pig stretched across the plate thinking it looked like a shaved Yorkshire terrier. The waiter said, “Most people want to take pictures before I carve it for you.”

Carrie said, “What the hell? When in Rome...” She took her phone from her purse and snapped a couple of pictures. “I’ll send them to Sherrie. It’ll gross her out.”

The waiter took the plates back to the kitchen. He returned in a few minutes after having dissected the little beasts. Carrie found the hide to be as tough as leather but the meat, when she could find some, was tasty enough.

Jan said, “Remind me not to take anymore advice from cab drivers named Waldo.”

The car they rented in the morning was some sort of Nissan that ran on compressed natural gas. Carrie hoped that one tank would suffice as she had no idea how to fill a natural gas tank. With Jan navigating Carrie drove out of town observing Peruvian drivers to be only slightly less annoying than DC drivers. The day threatened rain.

“We’re there,” Jan said after less than ten minutes on highway S1.

“We’re where? I don’t see anything.”

“Well, duh, you can only see the lines from the air. This says the place we want is to our right—maybe two kilometers.”

“Shit! The little gray bastard would make us walk, and in the rain.”

“We could go back to town and wait for the weather to clear.”

“No, let’s get this done.”

Carrie parked off the road and they started walking over the bare dirt. Though the rain was barely a mist, both women’s hair became soaked in minutes. Carrie was too pissed to even grumble. Jan said, “I hope Paul and Eddy are in a sandstorm.”

“How much farther?”

“Probably another kilometer.”

“I prefer to walk kilometers. They’re shorter than miles.”

Jan looked at her strangely. “That radiation dose do something to you? Okay, a little to the right. We’re drifting off course.”

“That’s because I’ve got eyeliner running in my eyes. Damn Turnbull anyway. We’re supposed to translate documents in nice warm offices.”

“Think of it as something you tell your grandchildren.”

“If I were ever going to have any. My shoes are caked with mud.”

“Mine too. Not much farther. Okay, right here.”

“Well, where the hell is it?”

“There’s no place to hide,” Jan said. “If they just left it sitting here somebody probably found it already.”

“Great, so some Peruvian souvenir collector has it in his knick-knack case.”

“Or is trying to find out what’s inside.”

“I can’t imagine Deshler wouldn’t do something to hide it.”

“Maybe it’s buried.”

“There is no sign of fresh digging.”

“Well, we might as well look around.”

They went in opposite directions. Carrie was wondering if Deshler had lied while she walked in a zigzag pattern. A short time later she heard Jan shouting and went toward the sound at a jog. When she found Jan all she could see was her head and shoulders.

“Look at this. It’s a spiral ramp.”

Carrie examined the hole. “It doesn’t look like the aliens made it.”

“You’ve got to see this. Come down here.”

Carrie began walking around the downward spiral. Cobblestones set without mortar retained the walls. In the center at the lowest point Jan waited pointing to flowing water. “What is this?” Carrie asked.

“An aqueduct I guess.”

“Or a sewer.”

“It doesn’t smell like sewer water, but the tunnel it’s flowing through is pointed in the direction where ‘X’ marks the spot.”

“Dammit, you’re right. How far are we from the coordinates?”

Jan consulted the GPS unit. “It says a hundred and twelve meters.”

“Well, one of us has to check in there.”

“I’ve got claustrophobia.”

“You’re just saying that. I wonder how deep the water is.”

“There’s one way to find out.”

“Oh, Christ, there’s probably snakes in there. Damn you, Deshler. Damn Turnbull. Hold this for me.” She took her phone out of her pocket and handed it to Jan, then she gingerly slipped over the edge of the little waterway. The water only came to her knees. “That’s a relief. Give me the phone. I’ll need its light. I’ll need the GPS too.”

“It’s not going to work underground.”

“Crap, you’re right.”

“Count your steps.”

She sighed. “Hundred and twelve meters—if I’m not back in ten minutes, come in after me.” She ducked her head and started wading. The tunnel was perhaps three feet wide and not quite tall enough for her to stand erect. She reckoned two steps to the meter. It was a very long two-hundred and twenty-four paces. There was nothing there. She kept going and at two-hundred and thirty paces she kicked something. The light on the phone did not penetrate the water so she reached down and somewhat fearfully touched it. It was too smooth to be a stone, round and about the size of a beach ball. Although heavy, she could move it, but it was tethered to a rock in the wall. Examining the cord in the LED light, she figured it to be metallic. The terminations at either end showed no fasteners and no clue as to how they attached.

“Damn tricky aliens,” she said talking to herself. “If I try to pull the rock out of the wall I’ll probably bring the roof down on me.” She took a picture of the device and a close up of the lanyard, and still swearing at Deshler, started back to the opening.

Jan stood there in the rain looking miserable and anxious. “You didn’t find it,” she said.

“Oh, I found it all right. The damn thing is tied to the wall of the tunnel.” She showed Jan the pictures on her phone.

“What do we do now?”

“We’ve got to find some way to cut that cable. Let’s get back to town. I’m freezing.”

“Me too. You do realize that this is one of the driest places on earth.”

“They picked a fine time to end the drought.”