Five weeks ago Sam had never heard of Project Bluebook or the 701 UFO encounters in its pages that remained unexplained. Now those 701 cases were his life. He had had to ask her twice to explain what in the world she was talking about when she first called to ask for his help. In the time he and Hillary had been married, she never mentioned Bluebook or the 701 once. It was her dad’s death that had spurred all this on. The 701 was something of an obsession of his, though raising Hillary alone had always precluded him from hunting even one of the stories down. Plus, it was only recently that hackers had leaked the otherwise classified, typewritten accounts of all 701. Hillary had made it her mission to do what her dad never could. Each file was a chance to do right by the person who had never done her wrong. Dick Kresge had never been a rich man; Hillary’s only inheritance was this half-baked hunt for little green men
He tapped along on his knee to the song on the radio. He had made it plain to her when she’d first called: he only had three months. Then, back on the road with Gentleman Giant. Their tour bus wasn’t going to drive itself and the fall concert season was right around the corner. Three months to poke and prod into what little might remain of some sixty and seventy-year-old stories. All in hopes of finding some morsel of truth that might give Hillary peace of mind. Never mind the lunacy of trying to track down crackpots who’d mostly been dead for decades. Never mind the absurdity of looking for truth in these modern-day tall tales at all. Three months; he’d given her three months of his services as a driver and ‘iterant malcontent’ as she called him. Three months: he owed her that much at least.
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“Are you crazy?”
“Crazy? It would be crazy at this point not to go and check it out, Sam. We’ve already come this far. This is our first bit of good luck. Don’t tell me it doesn’t excite you a little to get a glimmer of hope. Hell, I’m excited. I’m sick of dead ends.”
“I don’t even know why I asked. I already knew you were crazy. This whole damn thing’s crazy. ”
She hadn’t even gotten into the passenger seat to plead with him. He was spineless enough that he might peel off as soon as her butt hit the seat. The last courageous thing Sam Spiezio did in his life was leaving his mother’s womb, and he was almost six weeks overdue by that point anyway. Hillary did her begging through the relative safety of his slightly cracked window.
“You knew I was crazy years ago. Nothing’s changed. I didn’t drag you on this adventure just to run and hide once things finally get interesting.”
“Interesting? Sloping off into some hick’s backyard barn isn’t interesting -- it’s ludicrous. You just want us to be the star of tomorrow’s headlines, don’t you? TWO IDIOTS BEHEADED BY YOKEL IN DESERT.”
“Sam. Get out. I’m not leaving until you do and I know you won’t leave without me.”
It was true. He wouldn’t. For better or for worse, he wouldn’t leave Hillary behind. Not again, at least. Once was enough to ruin his life.
“Fine. But this only proves we’re damned fools. And I wouldn’t call this an adventure, either. I’d call it a death trap.”
Call it what you want, Hillary thought, it’s the first thing that’s got my heart beating in years.