Contributed by George Wilkinson
The Air Force transferred Dad to Nebraska to work on generators supporting several Nike missile sites. We lived in an old farmhouse surrounded by corn and soil bank. When Dad got orders to Viet Nam, he made numerous arrangements, including for me to work on old Mr. Dwyer’s milch cow farm.
My favorite thing was the silo. I would pause from pitching the silage to enjoy the warmth and sweet smell of fermentation and look out over the barn and fields. Still a favorite sensory memory. During one such pause, I noticed a metallic shine along the foundation of the barn.
Later, I came in for lunch after spreading manure over a future soybean field. I took off my encrusted jacket and hat and washed up before sitting to table.
“Mr. Dwyer, I noticed a metallic shine along the north side of the barn’s foundation.”
Mr. Dwyer never took his eyes off his lunch, replying between bites, “There are certain metals that, when placed between the concrete foundation and barn wood, bugs won’t cross. Better living through chemistry. Or metallurgy. Whatever. The important thing is, it’s better.”
Later, I walked around the barn and became convinced someone was tugging hard on my leg. The foundation wasn’t capped by metal. It was metal.
“I’ve been meaning to cover that but never got around to it.” He looked frustrated. “Getting old, I guess.” An Aeolian sigh ensued. “It’s a spaceship. We wanted to escape the rat race on our planet, so we came here.”
Well, so much for him being a drag-line operator until his wife inherited the farm.
“We buried the ship and built the barn on top. We’ve loved our life here but can’t stay. We’re returning for treatment for this old age thing, then maybe we’ll go somewhere else. It’s a big universe.”
“Will the girls go with you?”
“I noticed you noticing Riley. You should make a move. A beautiful, busty girl with a love of the outdoors and above-average intelligence? What’s not to love?”
“If it’s been sitting so long, can it still fly? What about the barn?”
“Geeze, kid. I’m tryin’ to sell you on my daughter, and you walk right over it like… Never mind. Our people have been passing down ownership of this farm, and though Mary wants to stay with us, Riley wants the farm. She won’t need a barn.”
“So, you think I have a chance with Riley?”
“Absolutely. She’s an illegal alien, though. Having a husband from here would be expedient. It wouldn’t be a love thing at first, but love might come later.”
“But weren’t they born here?”
“In this house, yes, but no doctor, just a midwife my people use. The girls aren’t human genetically, but they are culturally.”
I had to think. Shoot fire, I wasn’t even out of high school yet. “So, I’d stay here until graduation? What about college, military?”
“Come with me,” he said as he fought long and loud to break free of his easy chair.
In the barn, we passed the bulk tank and DeLaval equipment and entered a small room with a hatch in the floor. The hatch rose. It was the roof of an elevator.
“After you.”
Dodgy. Definitely dodgy.
At the bottom, lights came on in a room larger than the barn. Mr. Dwyer opened a door. On the other side was a veritable Fort Knox.
He smiled. “You two will have this,” he pointed to the hoard, “and the ship. Do what you want. Mrs. Dwyer and I wanted to get back to basics; living off this would have put the lie to it. Besides, we don’t use these metals back home.”
When we got back to the house, Mr. Dwyer gathered Riley and Mrs. Dwyer and filled them in on filling me in. Riley had always made me weak in the knees, but now she also looked dangerous. She turned to me and asked simply, impossibly simply, “Well?”
