Of Aliens And Broccoli
"Why did I ever volunteer for this," thought Mike Stoker as he looked out of the small plane's window at the fast approaching ground. Beads of sweat hung on his forehead as he braced himself for the upcoming impact. Marco Lopez sat in the seat next to Mike. His hands gripped the arms of his seat with such force that his knuckles were white. He softly muttered an endless stream of prayers with his eyes shut tight. He did not want to witness his impending fate.
Mike and Marco had volunteered to go to an equipment seminar in Sacramento. They were on a panel to decide the fate of some fire fighting equipment. New technology had brought about changes in equipment and technique. The panel reviewed the old methods and equipment and made recommendations as to which ones needed to be replaced with it's new, more modern counterpart.
They had a good week and felt like a lot was accomplished. Now they were headed home to share there experience with their coworkers. A small plane had been chartered to take six of the men home. The first four had already been dropped off and Mike and Marco were the last stop on the flight.
The plane had suddenly begun to shake and the engine began to sputter. The pilot did everything he could, but the engine finally gave one last sputter and then all was quiet. It was an eerie feeling plummeting to the earth silently, watching the ground come closer and closer at an alarming rate of speed.
Then, it happened. The silence was broken by the ear splitting sound of twisting, screeching metal as the plane glided down to tree level, snapping off any trees in it's path before skidding to a stop.
Mike slowly opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was encircled by bits and pieces of dangling debris that used to be a plane. He slowly began to take a personal inventory: arms-check, legs-check, head-check. All his parts seemed to be intact and still functioning. He looked to his right where Marco had been seated only moments ago. Now only an empty space met his eyes.
"Marco!" Mike called out, praying for a response. When none was received he struggled to unbuckle his seat belt. When he finally was able to free himself, he began to search the wreckage for his friend. He did not have to look far.
When the plane hit the ground it split down the center and the left potion had been forced forward. He found Marco, still strapped in his seat, a few feet behind him. Blood trickled down his forehead and he was unconscious. Mike touched Marco's neck feeling for a pulse. Mike let out the breath he was holding and said a quick 'thank you' when he felt a strong pulse.
"Marco...Marco.... Can you hear me?" Mike asked his friend. Slowly, Marco opened his eyes.
"Am I dead?" Marco wondered.
"Not quite, Buddy," Mike chuckled as Marco regained his bearings.
"What happened?" Marco asked. "Hey Mike, you're bleeding."
Mike had not noticed before that there was blood on his clothing. He started to feel around his face and found a tender spot on his left temple.
"Huh, you and me both." Mike said looking at the traces of blood on his fingers.
"Did we crash?"
"I hope so. If that was the pilot's idea of a landing his license should be revoked." Mike began to check out Marco for injuries.
"When did you get to be a paramedic? Do you know what your doing?"
"Shut up and sit still," Mike ordered as he continued to check out Marco. "Does anything hurt?"
"Everything hurts but not too bad."
"Can you move everything?"
"Yeah. Can you get this seat belt off?" Mike began to struggle with Marco's restraint.
"It won't come loose," Mike told Marco as he pulled at the buckle.
"It has to. Come on, Mike. Pull harder." Mike gave one final tug and the buckle released it's grip sending Mike sprawling out onto the floor.
"That's better," Marco sighed as he stood and began to stretch his arms and arch his back.
"For you, maybe," Mike said as he got himself back to his feet and tried to brush himself off.
"Have you seen the pilot?" Marco asked as he continued to stretch.
"No. I was busy looking for you."
Marco looked around at the small confined space that they occupied. "That must have taken all of one minute. I guess we should check to see if he is all right."
The pair headed toward where the front of the plane should have been. The plane had traveled through a stand of trees and had come to a stop at the side of a sheer rock face. The impact had bent the nose of the plane to the right and little remained recognizable as the cock pit. Mike and Marco could not get through to the pilot from within the plane. There was a tear in the fuselage big enough for the two men to squeeze through.
As they exited the plane, the severity of the crash became apparent to them. Little remained recognizable as an air plane. The wings had been sheered off as the plane sailed through the trees and the body was split and torn. Little more was left than a heap of twisted, shredded metal.
The men found the window to the cockpit and part of the pilot's body was visible. The glass was broken in the windshield and the ceiling was pressed down making the windshield opening half it's normal size. From what they saw, they knew it was very unlikely the pilot had survived the crash.
"See if you can reach in and check for a pulse," Mike instructed Marco.
"Me! You're the one playing paramedic today."
"Well, now it's your turn," Mike said nervously as he waved Marco over to the small opening. Marco made a face as he reached his hand in and felt around for a pulse. Mike watched Marco's hand disappear behind the metal of the plane.
Marco shook his head. "I don't feel any pulse." He withdrew his hand, which was now covered in blood.
"Did you check for respirations?" Mike asked.
Marco gave him an exasperated look, then reached his arm back into the plane and placed his hand on the man's chest. He stood still for a minute, holding his own breath to be sure he would feel any movement. All was still.
"Nothing," Marco told Mike. He then said a soft word of prayer for the man as he crossed himself.
"I guess help will be here soon," Mike said hopefully. He figured it would be getting dark in about two hours. That should be enough time for them to be located.
Marco was busy looking for something to wipe his hand off . He reached in through one of the broken windows and pulled out a jacket and began to clean off his hand.
"Hey! That's my jacket," Mike cried out.
"Now it's a towel," Marco told Mike as he cleaned the blood off his hand the best he could without any water. He then threw the soiled jacket at Mike. "Here's your jacket back."
Mike stepped out of the path of the jacket and let it drop to the ground. "I don't want it now!" Mike looked annoyed at Marco, who just laughed. The two men went back into the remains of the plane to gather their belongings.
"I wonder how long before they find us?" Mike mused.
"I don't know. This place looks pretty remote. Do they keep track of small planes like they do big planes?" Marco wondered.
"Of course they do," Mike said with confidence. After thinking it over for a minute he added, "Well, if they don't, they'll notice when we don't land. John was going to pick us up at the airport right about now."
"Yeah. I guess you're right. Hey, I wonder why the plane didn't blow up when it crashed. Don't they usually catch fire?"
"I'm not sure, but I think we ran out of fuel. That's kinda how the engine sounded."
"You know, you might be right. I don't smell fuel at all." The guys sat relaxing in two of the remaining seats. The sun was beginning to set and there was a slight chill to the air. They were glad they had some protection from the elements, especially if they ended up having to spend the night. The snap of a twig was heard outside the wreckage. Both men looked at each other.
"They found us!" Marco proclaimed as he and Mike left the plane. It was that time of the evening when it wasn't really dark yet but shadows fell on everything making it difficult to see. They searched the area for their rescuers but didn't see anyone. The sound of another twig snapping brought their attention to their right. There stood an old man. His gray hair and beard were long and unkempt. He was severely lacking teeth with only one bottom front tooth visible. He was dressed in a ragged flannel shirt and bib overalls. His work boots were missing laces and covered in mud. He held an object in his hands as he squinted at the two men.
Mike and Marco surveyed the scene before them. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light they realized what the item was in the old mans hands. It was a shot gun and it was aimed right at them.
"Looks like I caught me some aliens," the old man cackled.
"I think he's talking to you, man," Mike said to Marco as he leaned over to him and elbowed his side.
"Your ship crashed real good. Not much left. Your not going home anytime soon." the old man informed the pair as he motioned to the downed plane with the barrel of his shot gun. Marco leaned over to Mike.
"I think he thinks we're space aliens not illegal aliens!" Marco whispered.
"Hush up you. I'm taking you back home. I bet I'll get a reward for capturing two aliens still alive. Now git movin," he motioned the two men forward with the gun barrel. "And put yer hands on yer heads where I can see 'um." The two men did as they were told and began walking.
"What are we going to do?" Marco whispered to Mike.
"How should I know? I've never been captured before." Mike rolled his eyes.
"Maybe we should make a break for it?"
"Did you forget he's got a gun?"
"If we both went in a different direction maybe we'd confuse him."
"Maybe. But he's still got a gun."
"Yeah. But if we both went in a different direction he couldn't shoot both of us."
"But he could still shoot one of us." Mike insisted.
Marco was quiet for a moment. "So do you have a better plan?" .
"No. Not really." Mike looked up at the sky as they walked. It was getting pretty dark and the first stars of the evening were coming out. There was one especially bright star directly ahead of them. This gave Mike an idea.
"Hey, I've got it." Mike exclaimed in a hushed voice.
"What?"
"Just follow my lead." Mike pointed to the sky and began to speak in a loud voice. "Look Marco. It's the mother ship! They've come to rescue us."
The old man looked up at the star and aimed his gun skyward.
"Now Marco!" Mike called out and they each took off running as fast as they could. One to the left of the old man and one to the right. The old man spun around and fired the gun. The buckshot sailed down a path between the two running men, missing them both. He fired again, missing the men a second time.
"Dad blasted aliens!!" The old man yelled. He shook his fist at the sky. "Go back to where ya belong!"
Mike and Marco continued to run for their lives. The sound of the shotgun blasts gave them an added burst of speed. The woods became thicker, and the growing darkness made it difficult to see where they were going. They tripped and stumbled over rocks and branches as they made their way further into the forest. Noticing that the ground before him suddenly dropped off, Mike stopped running.
"Ahhhhhhhh!!!!" Marco cried out as he plummeted down the hill. He rolled and flipped as his body traveled down the incline. Finally, he hit the base of the hill with a thud. Marco laid there, staring upward at the stars through the tree branches. Mike carefully hurried down the hill to his fallen friend.
"Marco!!" Mike called out. He knelt over his buddy whose eyes were open and looking skyward.
"Still not dead?" Marco groaned.
"Still not dead." Mike confirmed. Mike again began to check Marco for injuries.
"You know, your getting awfully touchy-feely here lately." Marco mentioned.
"I'm just checking to see if you're hurt."
"Well, for the second time today, I'm fine. Why did you stop back there?"
"Cause I saw the hill."
"And you couldn't share that information with me?"
"I thought you saw it."
"Obviously, I didn't!"
"Here, give me your hand." Mike helped Marco up.
When Marco put weight on his left ankle he let out a yelp. "Ow!!!!"
"What's wrong?" Mike asked.
"My ankle. I must have twisted it."
"Can you walk on it?"
"Sort of." Marco said testing it out. "Just don't go real fast." The pair began to walk.
"Mike. Where are we going?"
"This way." Mike pointed in front of them.
"Why this way?"
"Cause it's better than that way." Mike pointed behind them to the old man's location.
"Oh. That makes sense. Is this where the plane is?"
"I'm not sure. We kinda got twisted around. I lost my bearings."
"Do you think they found the plane yet?"
"I don't know. We were flying pretty low for a long time. We were probably off radar for quite a while before we crashed. They would be looking for us where we dropped from the radar, if they're looking for us at all."
"Yeah. I kinda thought that too." Marco sighed. "I guess we should try to find a road then, huh?"
"Yeah." Mike agreed.
The two men walked through the woods. Darkness had totally enveloped them now, and they stumbled as they walked. Marco was limping as best he could but the pain in his ankle was getting more and more severe. Mike could tell by Marco's grunting and groaning that his friend needed to rest. They came to a stand of pine trees. The needles on the ground formed a thick pine scented mattress and the branches of one tree came down to the ground providing an almost cave-like enclosure. They crawled into the shelter and settled in for the night.
"How is your ankle?" Mike asked.
"It's sore but it's OK." Marco replied.
It was too dark to tell if the ankle was bruised but Mike could tell when Marco removed his shoe that it was swollen. Mike shivered. The night air had become quite cool and both men wore short sleeve shirts. "Know what?" Mike asked.
"No, what."
"I wish I had kept my jacket even if it was covered in blood." Mike rubbed his arms to warm himself.
"Yea. I'm pretty cold myself." Marco paused as he looked around their enclosure. There was no moon out and little was visible. "Do you think there are any wild animals around here?"
"We're in the woods. Of course there are."
"I mean dangerous ones."
"I don't know. I've done a lot of camping but I've never run into anything too dangerous. But I've always been in camp grounds."
"I wish we could build a fire." Marco shivered. "Do you have any matches on you?"
"No. That's the down side of not smoking. Besides, we'd probably burn the whole forest down."
"At least they'd be able to find us then. To bad Gage isn't with us. He could rub some sticks together or knock some rocks together and get a fire started." Mike and Marco chuckled at the thought of Johnny starting a fire without matches. John often bragged about his Native American heritage and right about now the guys would be thankful to have some of his knowledge and talent.
"Maybe we can bring some of these pine needles and leaves around us," Mike suggested. "That should help."
Marco and Mike got as close together as possible and began to pull piles of the pine needles around them and on top of them. They settled in for the night huddled together under their pine blanket.
"Hey Marco. Are you sleepy?"
"No. I'm too cold to be sleepy. Are you scared Mike?"
"Yeah, a little."
"Me too. I'd rather be running into a burning building than stranded out here in the woods."
"Yeah. At least it's warm in a burning building." They both smiled at their mutual choice. They knew what to expect at a fire scene. Even though fires can be very unpredictable, they were familiar with all the possibilities and what to do for each scenario.
"Why did you become a fireman, Marco?"
"I always loved the big trucks and the excitement, ever since I was a little boy. I knew that when I grew up that's what I wanted to do. What about you?"
"I'm not really sure. I just wanted to please my Dad I guess." Mike said. "He always wanted me to be part of something important but I hated joining things. He made me join scouts and little league and everything else that came along. I hated them all." The darkness made it easy for Mike to admit things to Marco that he had never been able to voice before.
"Why did you hate them? I was in scouts and little league and I really enjoyed them."
"I've always been kind of a loner. I've had trouble making friends and being part of a group. I always feel like an outsider. I guess that's why I keep to myself most of the time."
"But as a fireman you are part of a group. You're one of the best engineers I've ever worked with."
"But that's just it. As soon as I could take the test for engineer I did. That way I could please my father but I'm still pretty much on my own."
"I'm not sure I understand. You are one of us Mike."
"No I'm not. You're partnered with Chet, and John's partnered with Roy. I work at the truck by myself."
"But you're part of the station."
"I know, but sometimes I feel like an outsider. Even though I know you guys are all my friends, sometimes I feel like I just don't fit in."
Both men were silent for a moment. Marco thought about what Mike had just confessed to him. He thought back to times at the station and realized Mike was usually the outsider of the group. Occasionally, he took part in the station shenanigans, but most of the time while the guys were playing cards or basketball, Mike chose not to take part. Instead, he would read or watch TV or polish the engine, yet again. Marco decided he was going to help Mike become more of a part of the men's activities.
"Believe me, Mike. You are one of us."
"Thanks, Marco." The pine needles had begun to hold in the warmth of their bodies and the intense cold had subsided a bit. They were finally able to drift off to sleep.
####################################
John Gage paced back and forth in the lounge of the small airport. Mike and Marco's plane was now three hours past due. The airport personnel were on the radio trying to get some information on the missing plane. Suddenly, the door burst open and Roy Desoto, Hank Stanley and Chet Kelly came into the lounge.
"Have you heard anything, John?" Captain Stanley asked anxiously.
"Nothing new. All they can tell me is they dropped off of radar shortly after they left the Bridgeport area. Mike and Marco were the last two to be dropped off." Johnny continued to pace as he updated his friends.
"So why don't they search that area?" Chet asked.
"They said they lost them over a large remote area. They could have dropped from radar but still flown for quite a distance before......" John swallowed hard before uttering his final word, "crashing."
"There's been no word at all?" Roy asked.
"No, none at all." John informed the men. "They didn't even get a distress call from the pilot, so whatever happened must have happened fast."
"Are they going to start a search?" Hank asked.
"I think they won't be able to till daybreak. They don't have a clue as to where they went down. Unless they get some more information as to the location they are going to have to just look for visible signs."
"Well, we're all here and willing to help when the search begins." Roy said. The others all shook their heads in agreement.
The door to the lounge opened and a man wearing overalls came into the room. He seemed a little surprised to see all the men mulling around the room. He went over to John.
"Are these men here with you?" He asked John.
"Yes. Bill, these are the rest of the guys from the station. Hank Stanley, Roy Desoto and Chet Kelly. Guy's, this is Bill Rider. He's been trying to get some information on Mike and Marco's plane. Have you heard anything new?"
"Unfortunately, no. I did find out the pilot had been having some electrical problems but they thought they had it corrected. That might account for the lack of radio contact. They were flying over a pretty remote area when radar lost them, so there have been no civilian reports of a crash. We'll be starting a visual search at first light."
"Well, count us in Bill." Hank said. "We're all fireman and trained in rescue work. These missing men are some of our own and we want to be a part of this."
"Great. If you can wait here I'll get in touch with the command center and let them know we've got four able bodies to assist." Bill left the room with a nod, leaving the men alone again.
"Now we need to just keep our thoughts positive." Chet Kelly paced as he spoke. "We will find them and they will all be OK." All four men knew there was a chance they'd be OK but they also knew from experience that there could be little left to find. Now all they could do was to follow Chet's advise and stay positive till morning.
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Marco woke to the sound of rustling in the leaves next to him. A chipmunk foraged for his breakfast in the leaves two feet away from Marco's face. Marco jumped back with a gasp, spooking the little critter, who scampered away in the opposite direction.
In the daylight Marco could see he was almost totally covered in leaves and pine needles. They had done their job and kept them relatively warm or at least stopped their shivering throughout the night. Marco realized Mike no longer slept next to him and called out his name.
"Mike......Mike......Where are you?" Mike poked his head through the branches.
"Boo!!!" Mike exclaimed with a grin on his face.
"Very funny but I already had my morning scare from a chipmunk rooting around in here. Can you tell where we are?" Marco sat up and began to brush the leaves off himself.
"Yeah. We're in the woods." Mike continued to grin as he climbed through the branches.
"Your a regular comedian today, aren't you?"
"I try my best." Mike smiled at his friend then began to giggle.
"What?" Marco asked. "What's so funny?"
"You have pine needles sticking out of your hair and mustache." Mike laughed. "You look like a cactus!"
Marco quickly ran his hand through his hair and mustache removing the offending spines. "Did I get them all?"
"Yeah. That's better. Are you hungry?"
"Starving!" Marco said rubbing his stomach.
"Me too. I was looking around for something we could eat."
"Did you find anything?"
"No. I guess we better think about something else."
"Hey, Mike. If you could have anything you wanted to eat right now, what would it be?"
"Come on, Marco. I said let's think of something else, like getting out of here."
"I'd want a two inch thick steak and a huge baked potato with lots of sour cream and butter, a big bowl of chili, a mug of ice cold beer and a whole lemon meringue pie for dessert."
"Geez, Marco. A whole pie?"
"I like pie."
"I noticed."
"So, what would you pick if you could have anything you wanted to eat?" Mike thought for a moment.
"Broccoli."
"Broccoli? Just broccoli?" Marco said, amazed.
"You like pie, I like broccoli."
"But that's a vegetable!"
"Yeah, so."
"Nobody's favorite food is a vegetable."
"Mine is. What about vegetarians?"
"They don't count."
"Why not? You said 'nobody's favorite food is a vegetable'. The fact that there are vegetarians proves that statement to be false. Don't you like broccoli?"
"Well, yeah. I like it, but it's not my favorite food. I'll take steak or chili any day."
"I'm not real fond of meat. It's too heavy."
"But you eat meat at the station."
"What choice do I have? Could you hear Chet's remarks if I told him I didn't want to eat meat? I'd be finding broccoli, cauliflower and zucchini in my locker for months. I figure it's easier to just eat a little meat here and there."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Remember Roy and the artichoke incident? He mentioned one time that he liked artichokes and for the next three shifts every shoe, boot and pocket he had were full of artichokes."
"Exactly. With Chet at the station I don't dare give him any ammunition."
"OK then, you have your broccoli fantasy and I'll have my steak, chili and pie fantasy."
"Fine. Now that we have that settled, can we please talk about something else, like how your ankle is feeling."
"It's stiff. Here." Marco reached out to Mike. "Help me up." Marco carefully put weight on his injured ankle as Mike pulled him to his feet.
"Are you going to be able to walk on it?"
"Yea, but don't go too fast." The two men left the shelter of the pine boughs. They stood looking over the landscape.
"Do you have any idea which way we should go?" Marco inquired.
"Not really. We came from that direction last night." Mike pointed behind them. "So I guess we should go this way." Mike pointed in front of them.
"Sounds logical to me." Marco agreed and off they went in search civilization.
###################################
The helicopters flew low over the trees looking for signs of wreckage. The four men of station 51 had each teamed up with a member of the local search and rescue squad. They began their search from the point the aircraft dropped from radar and were in a staggered pattern following the course they would have taken. The thick wooded area made it difficult to see anything on the ground. The four choppers traveled in a grid covering a wide area with two members in each. After searching for almost 45 minutes Chet spied an area of broken tree tops. He signaled to the pilot who radioed the other choppers. They converged on an open field about a mile from the spotted site. The men all exited the helicopters and began hiking to the possible crash site.
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Marco and Mike slowly made their way through the forest. Marco was limping severely now and had found a stick to act as a cane. Mike lead the way looking for the smoothest possible path. They came upon a small creek.
Mike stopped and looked around. "I think we better rest for a few minutes." Mike said to Marco.
"Yea. I agree." Marco sat on a rock at the edge of the creek and took off his shoes. His ankle was swollen and bruised. Slowly, he lowered the injured limb into the icy creek water. "Ahhhhhhhhhh......that feels good."
Mike reached down and got a handful of water. He splashed the water onto his face. The cut on his temple had bruised and formed a small knot. Mike winced as the cold water washed the remaining dried blood from the wound. Marco followed suit and cleaned off the cut on his forehead
"Do you hear that?" Marco looked up and tilted his head.
"What?" Mike asked.
"That noise. It sounds like a helicopter." Mike carefully listened. It was difficult to tell with the sound of the creek babbling, but then Mike heard it too.
Mike's eyes lit up. "I do hear it!" He spun around trying to pinpoint the direction the sound came from. "The mountains are making the sound echo all around us."
"Maybe it's not an echo. Maybe there are a lot of helicopters and they are circling us."
"I don't know. We need to get to an open area. Are you rested enough to move on?"
"You bet I am!" With renewed enthusiasm Marco put his shoes back on and the pair headed off in search of a clearing.
####################################
The rescue party came upon the wreckage of the small plane. They split up and looked throughout the crash site for signs of survivors. Roy and Hank went to the cockpit area. Roy reached in and put a hand on the pilot.
"He's dead, Cap. Been that way for a while." Hank Stanley let out a sigh. The other men gathered around.
"There's no sign of them," Chet Kelly said, frustration showing in his voice.
"Maybe they were thrown from the wreckage." Johnny wondered.
"Could be. Let's check the surrounding area." Hank motioned for the men to spread out again.
Suddenly, Marc Craven, one of the rescue team members called out. "Over here! Look. Footprints." A muddy spot in front of him held what appeared to be several sets of muddy footprints.
"They must be OK." Hank said with relief. "I wonder where they are, and why they didn't stay here? They should have known we'd be looking for them."
"Curtis, this is Rider. Come in." Bill Rider spoke into his HT. "We've located the crash site. The pilot didn't make it and the other two passengers are missing. Notify HQ. We need a recovery team at this location. We're going to start a ground search of the area for the passengers."
"10-4 Rider. Curtis out."
"Hey Cap!" Roy called out from within the wreckage. The group gathered around him. In his hand he held a blood covered jacket. "It's Mike's."
"OK. It looks like they are injured. They could not have gotten too far on foot." Captain Stanley said as he looked to Bill Rider for instructions.
"Pair off , men," Bill began. We'll each go in a different direction. Maybe we can find a clue as to where they're headed." Bill's HT came to life. "This is Rider, over."
"Bill, this is Curtis. We just got a report from the local police. Sam Jackson, that old hermit who lives up there, reported a space ship crashing last night. He said he captured two aliens but they escaped. Could be your two passengers."
"10-4 Curtis. Rider out." Bill looked at the hopeful faces of the men around him. "Sam Jackson is a crazy old hermit who's cabin is about a mile from here. He's always reporting UFO sightings. I think we better pay Sam a visit." The group nodded in agreement as they followed Bill and proceeded to Sam's cabin.
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Marco and Mike's pace had slowed considerably, their enthusiasm waning. The sound of the helicopters had stopped and they had yet to find a clearing.
"Hey Mike," Marco called breathlessly. "Stop, man. I need to rest." he sat on a nearby rock.
"OK," Mike paused and listened. "I don't hear anything anymore anyway. I guess they gave up or it wasn't for us." Mike found a rock for himself and sat down too.
"I'm so hungry. I'd even take Chet's cooking," Marco confessed. "Or broccoli!"
"Me too. I think I'd eat almost anything too, even meat." Mike watched as Marco rubs his ankle. "How's your ankle feel?"
"Sore." Marco rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm so sleepy. I could use a nap."
"Go ahead. I'll keep an eye out."
"Are you sure? Maybe we should keep on going."
"To where?" Mike's frustration was beginning to show. "We don't even know if we're heading in the right direction. You go ahead and catch a nap. When you're rested we'll head out."
"OK. If you say so." Marco slid off the rock and laid down on the ground. His eyes shut and in no time he was fast asleep. Mike watched his friend. That nap looked like a pretty good idea, so he laid down and joined his friend in slumber.
#################################
The rescue team had met with Sam Jackson and he told them of his alien escapades from the night before. The men from 51 confirmed that Sam's description of the aliens matched that of their missing comrades. After Bill promised Sam the credit for finding the aliens, Sam gave them the direction in which they had run off. With new found vigor, the search party took off in the direction Sam had indicated, calling out the missing men's names as they went.
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Mike found himself alone in a room. There was nothing in the room but a chair and no one was in the room other than himself. He felt happy and content at first, but slowly he began to feel like he was missing something.
A window appeared in the wall. The sun's rays shone brightly through the glass. Mike went to the window and looked out. There was a beautiful park below him full of children running and playing. They played ball and swung each other on the swings, and rocked on the teeter-totter. Little girls played dolls together and little boys played cops and robbers.
Mike could hear their laughter and see their smiling faces. They all seemed so happy and carefree. All, that is, but one boy. He sat alone under a big tree whose thick branches blocked the suns bright and shining rays, blanketing him in shadows. The boy watched as the other children played but he did not approach them to join in on the fun.
Mike tapped on the window glass trying to get the boy's attention. He wanted to talk to him, to ask him why he was not joining in on the fun. The boy did not hear him. Mike tried to open the window but it would not budge. He called out to the boy shouting, 'Hey, you!! Join the other kids! Join in on the fun!' But the boy did not hear him. He seemed to be sinking farther and farther into the shadows.
Mike began to panic. The boy was slipping away. 'He's missing so much,' Mike thought. 'I have to help him.' He picked up the chair that was in the room and threw it through the window. The crash was thunderous! A barrage of sound assaulted his ears as the pane of glass shattered. The outside world was deafening! Mike covered his ears with his hands to protect them from the sudden onslaught of sounds. Slowly, he removed his hands as his senses adjusted.. Through the jumble of noises and voices he could barely make out one single small sound. He struggled to hear it. Slowly, it became clear.
Mike.......Mike......!"
Someone was calling his name, but who? He looked around, frantically trying to locate the source of the sound. The room was still empty so it must be coming from outside. He cleared away the remaining shards of glass from the window, slicing his hands open in the process. The need to locate the voice overpowered the pain of the bleeding wounds. Mike threw one leg over the sill and then the other. He sat on the ledge looking down at the two story drop to the park below when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
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The rescue party had spread out to search for the missing men. They kept in touch with handie talkies as the searched the thick forest. Chet looked around desperately. He had come across some foot prints and hoped he was on the right track. He called out his friends names as he walked. He could hear the distant calls of other searchers as they hunted for their friends.
Chet scanned the landscape for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing in sight but trees and bushes and rocks. Wait a minute. Chet stopped to focus better on some rocks to his left.
"Either I'm going crazy or that rock has feet!" Chet said to himself.
He took off running in the direction of this unusual sight. When he approached it he could see it was, indeed, feet and legs. And those feet and legs were attached to the body of a sleeping Mike Stoker. Not far from Mike laid Marco Lopez, also sound asleep. Other then what looked like a few bumps and bruises they appeared to be fine. Chet reached down and shook Mike's shoulder. He lowered his head and looked Mike directly in the face.
"Mikey, hey Mikey. Time to wake up." Chet cooed in a motherly tone. Slowly, Mike opened his eyes only to find Chet's face no more than six inches from his face. Mike jumped back and gasped.
"Geez, Chet! You scared the hell out of me!"
"Aren't you glad to see me?" Chet pouted.
"Yeah, but not that close!" Mike sat up rubbing his eyes.
"Are you guys OK?" Chet asked.
"Yeah. Pretty much. Marco twisted his ankle but he can still walk on it. It certainly took you long enough to find us."
"Well, maybe if you guys would have stayed put and not traipsed half way across the state we would have found you a little sooner!" Chet's exasperation showed in his voice as the volume increased.
"Is that Chet's voice I hear or am I starting to hallucinate?" Marco asked as he awoke from his slumber and sat up.
"Hey there buddy, it's me." Chet went over to Marco. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah. I'm fine now. Man, is it good to see you!"
"Well, that's a better greeting than I got from that ungrateful engineer of ours." Chet pulled out his HT to report in. "HT 5 to command HT. I found them and they are OK."
"10-4. Command HT to search party. Our men are found. Report to HT 5's location. Command out." Several audible 'Whoops!" were heard echoing throughout the woods as everyone converged on the location of the missing men.
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As amazing as it seemed, Mike and Marco had no serious injuries from their wilderness adventure. Rampart checked them out thoroughly. Marco had a mild sprained ankle and their cuts and bruises were cleaned up and bandaged. Dr. Brackett kept the boys overnight 'just to be safe'. The boys agreed, even though it meant their first real food would be hospital food. They were so hungry they would have eaten just about anything. And they did.
When they were released, they were instructed to take it easy for a few days, so they missed their next shift. But by the time the following shift rolled around they were ready, willing and able to return to work.
Fortunately for Mike and Marco it had been a relatively easy shift. A few rubbish fires, a little boy caught up in a tree and a minor traffic accident. Marco had pulled kitchen duty and was busy preparing dinner while the others lounged around the day room.
"Come on, guys. Chow's on." Marco called out. The five men made a bee-line for the table. They each grabbed a plate and began to load them up. Suddenly, Johnny stopped. He looked from plate to plate with a confused look on his face.
"Has anyone noticed a pattern in our meals today?" John asked.
"Like what?" Hank Stanley replied.
"For breakfast we had broccoli and cheese omelets. For lunch we had cream of broccoli soup and now for dinner we're having steak, baked potatoes and broccoli. What's with the broccoli, Marco?"
"You got a problem with broccoli, Johnny?" Marco asked with his hands on his hips.
"Well.....No, but...." John stammered.
"The store had a good sale on it today. Everybody likes it, right?" Marco looked around the table and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. "Does anyone else have a problem with my menu choices?"
"No." Everyone assured Marco.
"Hey, I wasn't trying to make trouble. I was just wondering." John put a big spoonful of the green veggie on his plate.
"You always get yourself into trouble when you think too much, John," Roy informed his partner.
"Yeah, Gage. This head of broccoli has more intelligence than you do." Chet teased.
"Shut up, Chet!" Johnny picked up a piece of broccoli and was about to hurl it at Chet when Captain Stanley intervened.
"John! Put the broccoli down!" The Captain said sternly. "That's enough from both of you. Marco has prepared a delicious meal for us, so shut up and enjoy it. And that's an order!"
"Yes sir." The men mumbled as they returned to their food. No one noticed Mike sitting quietly, with a plate full of broccoli, smiling as he ate it.
"Of Aliens And Broccoli" ©1999 Cindy Gifford. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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