Stranded in a Foreign LandChapter 2 A Somewhat Friendly Chat
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Stranded In A Foreign LandChapter 6: Helpful Assistance Or Hindrance? free porn video
Josh took a deep breath to calm his fluttering nerves before approaching the Clearance Wood Denny's where he'd agreed to meet whoever Jonathan McCreary sent. He realized there was a good chance they'd report him to the government, if they hadn't already. If he said the wrong thing they could either make a citizen's arrest or place a simple phone call bringing the authorities to his door. He may very well have signed his own arrest warrant, as well as those of his family and those he was trying to help.
Josh reflected back a half-hour when he'd warned his friends what he was planning. He'd essentially given away Peter's truck without asking, and they'd loaded the alien and his craft into Fred's pickup so his own wouldn't hold any incriminating evidence. If there was anyone waiting to arrest him, there was no point in supplying them with evidence.
"You'll have to assume things are going badly," Josh warned his friends. "I'll hide my throw-away phones some distance from the meeting place so no one can trace my calls. If I do get away, I'll recover them and give you the all clear, but if I don't, assume I've been arrested and notify my family to get everyone out of my home, because it will only be a matter of time before Special Forces descend on them."
Peter leveled a glare at him. "Do you really think it's that drastic? Again, I suspect you're making this more dramatic than it really is. After all, no one really knows what's going on, so it's not likely anyone is looking for us at the moment. And even if these people object to your motivations, it's unlikely anyone would believe them if they did report you. I mean, how the hell would you respond if someone came into your office and said 'Uh, chief, there's some guy in a little Podunk town who claims he's harboring a bunch of dying aliens from another planet'? Their superiors would run them out of the office and put them on administrative leave for being unstable."
"Maybe, but I'm playing with a lot of lives, yours and my family's among them. If I make a wrong move here, then a lot of people may suffer because of it. That's a heavy load to bear and I've got to consider the worst case scenario at every turn."
"Would it help if we moved your ... wards to my house, or maybe even to an isolated location on the reservation?" Fred offered. "That way there wouldn't be such a risk to you and your family."
"That's a reasonable suggestion, but my house is better located. If we started transporting that many of these people and their crafts cross country we run higher risks of discovery and it would take longer to rescue each individual. I think we need to assume we're safe. That's why I want us to be cautious. Again, if I don't get in touch with you, then take evasive action. I'm assuming it'll take time for anyone to take any reports seriously, so we should have time to shuffle people around."
"I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone," Cynthia said. "Should one of us go there, take a separate booth in the restaurant and observe what happens? I'd think that'll be safer and would provide you with support if things take a turn for the worse."
"No, I'm assuming these people have experience dealing with hostiles blending into the general population. We don't have enough experience to carry it off, and they'd likely spot us from a mile off. What's more, if they've alerted anyone, there's a chance they have the entire restaurant under observation, recording everyone entering and leaving. It's too much of a risk. I don't mind putting myself in danger, since I think what we're doing is worth the risk, but I can't see exposing the rest of you if I can avoid it."
"Face it," Peter answer with a crooked smile, "we've already put ourselves at risk. If you're caught, it won't be long until they track us down, and our families would be as much at risk as yours are. We either stand together or we fail together."
"It's still a question of timing. If I run into trouble, at least we can buy time. If you're with me, you'd be implicated immediately. If you aren't there, you'll be free to hide everyone before anyone has a chance to respond."
"All right, we don't like it, but we'll play by your rules. We'll set up camp farther down the road so we'll be partway home in case you run into trouble. But don't waste time. You realize we'll be putting everyone at increased risk if you get into an accident or get delayed, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I realize everything which can go wrong. I've thought of a thousand possible ways this could go south. But it's still the best option I can conceive of," Josh answered, effectively ending the discussion.
Josh shrugged off that memory, realizing he needed to focus on the immediate here and now. As he'd told his friends, a lot was riding on how this initial interview went. If the military or the police were to get involved in what they were attempting, they would need people with the experience to avoid trouble without trading gunfire with the authorities. Josh knew they needed more expertise than they had, so he realized there was no getting around this meeting.
Opening the door, Josh strode inside the Denny's—ignoring the area assigned for people to wait for a table—and scanned the restaurant for any indication of someone looking for him. No one flagged him down, so he simply shrugged and returned, letting the waitress assign him a seat, requesting a seat facing the door.
"Josh?" a female voice cooed behind him. Not expecting it, Josh jumped, his heart leaping in his chest. Turning, he saw his ex, Becky McCreary, the very one who had made such a fuss about his contacting her father. He groaned, not very subtly. She was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Heck, at any moment!
"Becky, what the hell are you doing here?" Josh asked, quickly scanning to see whether anyone was paying attention to the two of them. Hopefully if his contacts hadn't arrived yet, he could get rid of her before she screwed this meeting up.
"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes as she sat down across from him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat who's just bested her vilest opponent, "you can't expect me to ignore you speaking to my father behind my back. My dad may intimidate you, but he's a big pussy cat as far as I'm concerned. After I badgered him, I got him to confess that you wanted to meet some people to help you. He wouldn't admit what you were attempting, but I managed to convince him he needed someone to represent him. While you may think you're protecting him, we both thought he'd be better protected if someone could alert him if you were getting him into trouble."
"Look, Becky, this isn't about you and never has been," Josh replied in a harsh whisper. He glanced around again for anyone interested in who he was speaking to or anyone entering the restaurant. "It isn't smart for you to be here. Your father would never forgive me if I got you in trouble, and I really don't want to implicate you in what's going on."
"And just what is going on here?" Becky asked in a sing-song tone, enjoying this unique opportunity to torment her former boyfriend. She loved the fact she could still rile him, and she hated anyone trying to keep secrets from her.
Instead of answering, Josh just stared at her, challenging her to drop this foolish attempt to manipulate him for her own purposes, but he quickly saw his stare wasn't influencing her.
"I can't tell you anything, first because it would put you in danger, and secondly because, frankly, this isn't the place."
"Then why are you meeting here?" she asked, a question he certainly couldn't fault her for asking. "Or perhaps I should ask who?"
They both sat there, evaluating each other for several long seconds. Josh took in the pretty face of his overly flirtatious ex with a note of skepticism. As she often did, she had yet another new hairstyle, along with her traditional glasses, though instead of her typical dresses she now wore an old camouflage t-shirt and worn jeans, as if applying for the very job he was trying to fill. Becky was certainly pretty, and she could charm the pants off of any guy, but Josh was well aware of how conniving she could be. One minute she'd been all sweetness and light, and the next she'd slice your heart out—just as she'd done when she'd not only cheated on him, but then turned around and blamed him for it. She'd compounded the betrayal by treating him as a social pariah afterwards, ignoring a long friendship by avoiding him afterwards. Not to mention all the things she'd said about him.
Becky also considered her ex sitting across from her. Despite being such a loner, always standoffish and seemingly afraid of interacting with people, he was quite handsome. Thick shouldered, tall with wavy hair, he projected a tough guy 'I can handle anything' attitude. His muscular chest and arms, handsome face and his longish sun-bleached hair all marked him as the kind of guy who could get just about anyone he wanted, but Josh simply never seemed to put himself out there. He'd always avoided people, aside from his weirdo friends. When she'd wanted to go out and party, he'd always come up with some excuse to do something else. It was as if, for as much as he objected to the isolated life here in Arizona, that he still clung to the life of isolation here. He didn't seem to want the social life everyone else required. She'd tried to draw him out repeatedly, but he just never seemed to be willing to stretch himself beyond his comfort level.
"I picked this location because it's a handy meeting place with enough people you could blend in if you needed to," Josh whispered, leaning forward so his voice wouldn't carry. He still had no idea why he felt it necessary to explain anything to her. "But this is really not a place you want to be right now," he insisted.
"Yeah, it is a great place to 'blend in'," she answered, leaning back and throwing her arms over the back of her chair, enjoying the barrel she had him over. "That's why you never even noticed me. Face it, for someone wanting to act like a spy, you're really not suited for it. What makes you think you can tell if you're being watched right now?"
Josh hurriedly glanced in both directions, trying once again to detect anyone observing them, wondering whether Becky knew more than he did.
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, still relishing how she could so easily burrow under his defenses, leaving him a quivering nervous wreck. "I get the idea you're anxious about this meeting. Dad mentioned what you asked him to convey, about them potentially turning you in." Josh quickly glanced around as she said this, afraid everyone nearby would think he'd just robbed a bank with the way they were speaking, but she was speaking in a consistently low voice so no one seemed to notice. "But I came here knowing that. Face it, I'm here to represent my father, whether you want me here or not."
"OK," he replied, laying his palms on the table, "assuming you're here to watch me, could you at least sit somewhere else?" Josh pleaded. "If you want to know if I'm getting your father in trouble, you don't need to participate. Frankly, I don't really trust you not to sabotage me."
Becky cracked a crooked smile at that simple revelation. As much as she'd hated what she'd done to him, she also reveled in her ability to influence him so deeply, even after they'd broken up. She tried to mold him, to get him to be the man he always professed he wanted to be, but when he hadn't stepped up in the way she'd hoped she'd grown resentful. And that resentment had blossomed into... , well, just say that it hadn't gone well. But the fact Josh had given her so much power over him just kept feeding her ego. She continued to torment him just because she could. She'd long ago given up on the idea of changing him into someone else, but she still reveled in punishing him for being the man she'd tried to change him into, and weak enough to allow her to manipulate him. But mostly, she punished him for not being strong enough to stand up to her. She realized her motivations were all over the map in this regard, but that didn't matter. The behavior was already deeply engrained.
"Forget it, I'm going to be involved in this entire process," she calmly informed him. "You might as well get used to it. Now, are we ordering some food or what? Frankly I've been waiting a while, so I've worked up a bit of an appetite. By the way, I'm assuming you're paying for this meal, aren't you?" she asked, continuing to poke the increasingly angry and frustrated bear sitting across from her.
Just then two people entered the restaurant and Josh ceased talking as he evaluated them. They certainly looked like military types, even if they were now out of the service. There was a tall, thin black man wearing dark Ray-Bans and a dark cap. He was accompanied by a shorter woman with a pixie cut hairstyle but who carried herself like she could take care of herself.
Seeing that Josh was no longer paying her any attention, Becky twisted in her seat to see what had captured his attention. However, while they were both focused on the two new people, they almost missed someone sitting near them flag the couple. Turning, Josh took in the third person—someone who hadn't looked so obviously ex-military—a gruff looking slightly older man with hair he'd allowed to grow out, a single earring and several days beard growth on his face. He smiled at Josh and Becky as he stood and approached them.
"I believe you've been awaiting us?" the man asked, smiling pleasantly at both Josh and Becky, even as the other two people approached.
"Uh, yeah," Josh responded, trying to clear his mind as he stood up to shake the man's hand. "Look, it's nice to meet you and all, but before we introduce ourselves, do you think we could take this conversation outside?"
The three newcomers all looked at him oddly, but when Josh didn't relent, the lead man shrugged. "Sure, I've already had my coffee; I don't mind taking a walk."
Josh laid out a few bills to pay for the single coffee he'd ordered, preparing to leave, when someone at the nearby counter called out.
"Hey, could you turn that up? I want to hear it."
Turning, Josh noticed the restaurant had a TV playing in the corner where several customers were clustered around a bar rather than seating in the main area. Distractedly waving the others off, he stepped closer so he too could hear the broadcast, already guessing what it was about.
There, on the screen, was a full color, high-def image of Natalie, Alicia and Natalie's two assistant's holding the body of the dead alien who was even now sitting in the back of Peter's truck. Josh was glad he'd counseled the people into taking off, as this was anything but good news.
Since Josh had already heard the broadcast, he didn't really listen to what Natalie said, instead he watched how everyone at the bar reacted to the news. Although a few ignored it, most watched in rapt attention, leaning forward trying to get a better look at the odd looking creature.
"We'd better head outside," he suggested, turning back to the others. Josh didn't offer anything else, and the others didn't register a complaint, but they turned and took in the broadcast he'd been so disturbed to see, cocking their heads slightly as they tried to place it in context.
Outside, Josh led the group around the back of the building where anyone would be unlikely to stumble across them and hear what they were discussing. Josh had checked and hadn't seen any cameras mounted nearby. Glancing around once again to ensure no one was observing, he began.
"Look, I know this is unusual, but we've got a lot to do and we're short on time."
"Is this about that broadcast?" the lead man with the dark hair asked. "Is that what you wanted help with?"
Seemingly ignoring his question, Josh rolled up his sleeve. Although no one knew what he was doing, he starting poking his forearm. It was only then they realized he was wearing something unusual on it, and that various odd characters were lighting up along his forearm.
"Does this look familiar?" he asked, holding it up for them to see, pointing specifically to the more prominent markings at the bottom of the device.
They each tilted their heads again, considering it.
"Didn't that alien thing have something similar on its arm?" the woman asked.
Instead of answering Josh pointed out each light denoting another helpless alien. "There isn't just one, there are many, and this shows me exactly where each one is at this very moment. It also marks which ones are currently alive and which ones are already dead, like the one on the TV was."
"Wait, you're telling us that nutty broadcast was true?" the black man asked skeptically.
"It's not only true, but there are a variety of them, each of which crash-landed across the Arizona countryside. They're each horribly sick and in desperate need, and I'm committed to helping them escape detection and assisting them to recover so they can get away before the government launches a massive man-hunt for them. I need some experienced people to help me as I have no experience in this line of work. I'm afraid now that it's been exposed it won't be long before the local police become involved, and I don't doubt the federal authorities won't be far behind."
Josh watched each of them wrestle with the information, though Becky just stared at him, her jaw hanging open in disbelief.
"So what's it going to be?" Josh asked, eyeing everyone except Becky. "Who's in and who's out? I can explain what we're up against, but I really have no interest in revealing anything to anyone who's not committed to this as much as I am. If you agree to participate, you're likely putting your life and future on the line. But as members of the military, I think you'll appreciate what these people facing.
"How so? We're supposed to know about hiding aliens from our own government?"
Ignoring their self-appointed spokesman, Josh continued. "Each of these 'individuals' has crashed behind enemy lines, with few resources, no way to communicate, and are too ill to help themselves. Surely you can imagine what the military's reaction to this will be, especially if the media picks up on it and starts making an issue out of it. Are you interested in potentially resisting your own government in not only aiding, but actively hiding a potential 'enemy of the state' in order to help someone in a situation you could very well have found yourselves in?"
They each considered that, but Josh was surprised no one besides Becky seemed to respond much. They took his words seriously but didn't react with either shock or active disbelief.
"I'm in," the girl answered. "I was attacked multiple times deep in country very much like this. I also knew people who had to scramble to escape capture and torture by the enemy. We never knew who we could trust and who we couldn't. I know of a few who were saved because of locals sheltering them, each at great personal risk. I can relate to their situation."
Their obvious leader, the man with the dark straggly hair sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'm in too. But just let me say, if these... things look like they might present any risk, I'll do my best to put them down myself. This is a huge gamble, not just to ourselves, but to everyone we know if they're not quite as 'friendly' as you're suggesting."
Josh rolled his sleeve back down, his presentation over. "I'll tell you this much, none of them had any weapons, at least none I could identify. And none of them appeared hostile. Of course, they were too weak to fight off a kitten. They don't appear to be any kind of a risk, but I consider the police, the media and either the military or the government at large to be a danger to each of them. I imagine they only want to escape alive and return home, if they're able. I can't imagine them wanting to attract attention to themselves."
"In that case, I'm in as well," the final man volunteered.
"OK, then I'll introduce myself. I'm Josh. Becky here, who hasn't agreed to join us yet, already knows me."
"I'm Jeffery Rutgers," the lead guy said, reaching out to shake Josh's hand. "In case you haven't guessed, we worked together in an Army Special Forces unit in Afghanistan."
"I'm Phillip Rosenthal," the talk black man said, still not removing his dark glasses. Still, Josh considered the fact he was willing to reveal his full name enough of a concession to warrant his trust—at least initially.
"Rosenthal?" Josh asked, simply out of curiosity, not elaborating.
"Hey, there's a few of us blacks from Jewish familes. Granted, there aren't many of us," Phillip responded, smiling for the first time, "but we have to stick together," he added as he too shook Josh's hand in a firm handshake.
"And I'm Molly Brown. As I said, I'm proud to help you out, though that's subject to change as events unfold," she cautioned. "But I think you already know our main objection. It has little to do with the odds against us or our potential opposition. Instead it has to do with any potential danger offered by those we're trying to assist."
Josh nodded, glancing at each one asking for their trust. "Understood, and I don't blame you for that concern, but as I said, I've noticed nothing duplicitous in their behavior. They've gone out of their way in order to get me to help their companions, so I tend to trust them, so far, at least."
"That'll do for now," Molly said, shrugging slightly. "But you'll forgive us if we don't initially trust the ability of someone with no actual experience in judging risks in a situation like this."
"Granted," Josh replied, having expected even more difficulty than this. "Just out of curiosity, though, how did you get into Special Forces? I thought they didn't allow women?"
Molly shrugged again. "I wasn't technically in Special Forces. I was actually in the Navy, but my grandmother was from Birjand, Iran. I'm fluent in Farsi, so I was 'on loan' from the Navy to act as a liaison with Special Forces. The ability to communicate with the locals, especially with the local women who weren't necessarily as hostile to us, proved an important tool."
Josh gave her another look, tilting his head slightly. Molly didn't look Arabic in the slightest. She had blond hair, clear pale skin and all the wrong facial features, but he wasn't about to doubt her word. After all, you can't control or even know who or what your ancestors were.
"And she certainly didn't have an easy time of it," Jeffery offered, jumping to her defense—even though Josh hadn't said anything. "No one expected her to last. That's why they called her 'Shipwreck'. They figured she'd sink as quick as the Titanic did under her namesake. However, she stuck it out. However tough things got, she'd struggle through it and she proved her worth, not just as a translator, but as an overall member of the team. Her skills and abilities are why she was recommended for this task."
"Hey, I'm not questioning her ability," Josh protested, holding his hands up. "I was just curious. I can ... never mind," he corrected himself, waving his hands as if to erase the stupid statement he'd been about to make. "I've got no way of knowing just how hard it was so I'd better shut my trap before I say something I'll regret."
"Wise move," Molly said, giving him a steely-eyed look.
"Now, how about our final holdout?" Jeffery asked, turning towards Becky. "So far you haven't said anything. From what I saw inside, I gather you've got some history with Josh. Are you going to be a problem, or are you as committed as the rest of us?" he asked, prodding Becky to make a commitment to everyone there.
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