BEWARE THE COUNTERFEIT RAPTURE!. Sandra Ghost
the Chipping Tree, as if it could impart stability from all the years its roots had been firmly planted in the ground. Suddenly his heart became heavy when he thought of Scarlett. Was she really in danger? He had indulged her too much...but he adored her.
An owl hooted up on Signal Knob. It was answered by another down by the river. Horace turned toward the sound. Soft ripples shimmered in the distance as the moon touched the water. There was a soothing balm in the tranquility of the night. Suddenly, a huge lighted craft shot down the river, hovering just above the ripples. There was no sound.
"What the...?!" Horace realized he was shouting, "What is that? It can't be..."
He ran for the house, falling over bushes and brambles until he got into the yard. His heart was pounding. Bursting into the living room he announced, "I've just seen a flying saucer!" He was out of breath.
"Oh, come now, Horace. You know you've been talking about getting your prescription changed." Marianne patted the sofa beside her. "Come sit down...you're overwrought from all we talked about today."
"I'm telling you, woman, I saw a flying saucer!" Didn't this family believe anything he ever said?
"Give me the 'phone, I'm going to call the Sheriff's Department." While he waited for 911 to connect, "You believe in all this Devil stuff, but you can't believe me when I say I've seen a flying saucer?...
"911, do you have an emergency?"
"Yes, this is Doctor Wilson out on Route 55..."
CHAPTER THREE
Sergeant Michael Terry, of the Warren County Sheriff's Department shifted his weight to the other foot. He realized suddenly that he'd been doing that for the last five minutes to relieve his nervousness. "May I sit down, Doc?" he asked. It bothered him to see old Doc Wilson so upset.
Horace nodded and gestured toward the couch.
"Can I get you some coffee, Sergeant?" Marianne fluttered around the room like a frightened pigeon.
"No thanks, ma'am". Mike crossed his legs and propped the clipboard on one knee. "Now, Doc, are you absolutely sure that's what you saw?"
Horace began pacing the living room. "Well, what else could it have been?" His long fingers raked through the shock of gray hair. "I've never seen an airplane, the size of the Dupont factory, skim along the river. Have you, son?" His pacing took him to a confrontational stance directly in front of the deputy sheriff.
"And this...this 'flying saucer' headed down the north fork toward the main stem of the river, right?" Mike struggled to keep his disbelief under wraps. Maybe Doc was losing it. He was getting pretty old...maybe senile.
"That's right...and there was no noise...no sound of an engine at all." Mike continued writing his report.
"You just wipe that smirk off your face, Michael Terry," Horace threatened. He folded his arms--could feel his blood pressure rising. "I spanked you when you came into this world and I can spank you again!"
It was only after Sergeant Terry got back into the brown Sheriff's Department car and reported "10-8" on the radio, that he found out there had been other sightings in the county that night. On Doc's report, however, he now wrote the word, "Unfounded". He and the other Deputies on duty would take reports for the rest of the night.
His next assignment was down in Shenandoah River Estates--the home of Brian and Kelly Norton. The development of about fifty homes and cottages, clustered on the banks of the deep water portion of the Shenandoah River, where the north and south forks met to form the main stem. The development was accessed across a single track railroad crossing to a two-mile dirt road, which wound through several farmer's fields and was interrupted by three cattle guards.
As Mike's car bumped along the road, dust rolled behind him, turning into red, swirling plumes as it reflected his taillights. He could see Signal Knob Mountain in the distance to the west. He mentally made a note of the route the river traveled from Doc's house. Maybe Doc hadn't gone off his rocker if someone down here saw the thing too. The stars seemed brighter out here. The moon illuminated Apple Mountain in Linden to the east, the Blue Ridge chain to the west. He could see for miles. To the north, the lights of Winchester formed an illuminated blur on the horizon. Overhearing an occasional dispatch from the radio kept him company on the lonely road. It was an umbilical cord of contact to the rest of the county.
His headlights picked up a group of reflected eyes. A young, black bull moved insolently out of the road, seeming to take his good old time in protest of this rude invasion of his territory.
Suddenly, the Sheriff's Department car lost all power. The engine died--lights and radio were extinguished. He was surrounded by darkness. His hand automatically went to his .38. And then, a large lighted craft slowly rose over the trees from the direction of the river.
Mike was terrified. Nothing in any of his training had prepared him for this. The craft seemed to pause momentarily over the Interstate 66 underpass directly in front of him. Then, in a flash it was gone, almost faster than his brain could assimilate what had happened.
The headlights and engine came back on. His radio was illuminated and crackled slightly. His hand shook as he reached for the mike, then stopped short. His hand stroked his mustache thoughtfully. Every hair seemed to bristle, and he needed a moment to get his mouth in gear, formulate his thoughts, before making a professional report.
As the car pulled up to the little yellow house on the river, lights showed through all of the casement windows, though it was now shortly after midnight. A red Geo Tracker was parked in the driveway, plus an old Dodge pickup . Brian Norton had told 911, "there is a UFO parked on the river, down toward the dam," Before taking their report, Mike turned on the overhead light and picked up the clipboard. He crossed out the word "unfounded" on Doc's report, and now wrote "GOA"--"gone on arrival".
The following morning, major newspapers from all over the country reported spotty UFO sightings in Colorado, New Mexico, Mississippi, Virginia, New York, and Louisiana. There were also various similar reports from England, France, Australia and Italy. It would almost seem like a heavily orchestrated display--certainly not coincidence. The phenomenon gave rise to speculation everywhere.
The local newspaper interviewed Horace--the Editor felt that old Doc Wilson would be a credible source for the local community. For weeks, residents of Front Royal continued to look over their shoulder when outside at night. Brian Norton's interview in the Winchester newspaper, was picked up by the Associated Press. He told of watching the large craft come slowly down the main stem of the river, where it seemed to pause for approximately twenty minutes over the dam, which the Army Corps of Engineers had built. "It pulsated," he was quoted as saying, "hovering like a hummingbird over a flower. Then suddenly, it rose up and sped toward the south in a blur of light." Overnight Brian became a celebrity at the local supermarket where he worked in the produce department. People would stop in front of the celery and parsley to talk about it.
Brian and Kelly had been married two weeks after graduation from high school. They were very much in love, but fought over finances constantly. She worked as a waitress, but even with both their salaries it was all they could do to manage rent and two car payments. She fretted that Brian hadn't been paid for the interview. Briefly, the buzz in town replaced speculation about the possible coming crises of an attack by North Korea. Large bands of people congregated nightly up on the Drive at the Dickey Ridge Overlook to watch for UFO's. Scarlett was among those excited about getting a chance to see one. Many members of her New Age Church met there on a nightly basis. It resembled a hilarious tailgate party before a football game. People brought charcoal grills cooking hot dogs and steaks, passed out snacks, and extracted beer, and large jugs of wine from coolers in their cars, jeeps and crossovers. Several scanned the sky with binoculars. At times, the night wind carried their shouts and laughter toward Lance's farm down below. He thought back to his telephone conversation with