Milkweed And Sandwiches [WRAP]

William 'Mac' Brazel looked down from his saddle at Palmer and asked "so you're
not from another planet?" Palmer sighed, glanced over at the children and repeated
his story.
"We came to see what did actually happen here in July 1947 and when we arrived,
we found nothing but those..." the Teacher from the forty-third century looked to the
rancher for assistance, "Sheep?" Mac offered and Palmer nodded a thank you.

"... Sheep and this damned heat" the tall-thin man finished, and taking out a small
gadget from a pocket that seemed to magically appear in his seamless uniform -he held
it to the side of his neck.
The New-Mexican sat easy on the horse and watched in wonder.
"Is that a ray-gun?" came the question and Palmer pulled himself from the cooling relief
of the Drell-Eazer and squinted up at the man in the Stetson.

"Mr. Brazel...?" Palmer ignored the question and waved a hand towards the children
milling around the machine that sat at the end of the ploughed furrow, "... we are like
you, except we're from your future" Palmer's tone indicated that the scene on the desert
floor was obvious. Brazel rubbed his chin and smiled weakly at the stranger.

The machine that looked to Mac a cross between the fridge that neighbour -Barney Barnet
kept in his shed and his own pick-up truck's engine belched a fart-noise and flashed once.
The children stepped back and two of them kicked the contraption, Palmer sighed again.

"We arrived last night during that thunderstorm and the 'Crycto'..." Palmer stepped away
from the dozing horse and walked to the machine "... took a strike of lightning.
We guess that what's causing the delay to get us back"
A boy of around ten years-old tugged on his teacher's sleeve "Sir? I'm hungry" he moaned
and Mac wondered what happened to manners... the kid should've waited until the
grown-ups had finished talking.

A warm breeze ruffled Palmer's jet-black hair and they all waited for the next moments.
Mac Brazel slid from the saddle and letting the horse's reins hang down to the dried sage
brush, he ambled passed Palmer to take a closer look at the machine that the children
seemed to hold a lot of store in.

The 'Crycto' whined and blinked some coloured lights, Mac looked behind it and saw no
wires trailing off along the ground and called over his shoulder "what's it plugged into?"
Palmer stood erect from talking quietly to the interupting boy and closed the space
between the sheep-herder and himself.

The lad in the silver overalls wandered back to the children -who were now sat a few
yards away among some Milkweed and asked for the satchel that one of them was
resting on.
"It doesn't work off electricity, it works off plasma-cells" announced Palmer and
though Mac was still inspecting the waist-high gizmo, he nodded as if he knew what
Palmer was saying.

Brazel finished his examination and after looking around into the desert, his eyes rested
on the man-from-the-future's soft-'city' features. "So you're stuck here until either this
thing clears it's exhausts or someone comes and gets you... am I right? Mac showed a row
of even teeth in a grin.
Palmer returned a tight smile and whispered an affirmative.

The children had broken out the expedition's supplies and were tucking in to some sort
of sandwich, the silver wrappings fluttered in the desert breeze. Mac pulled a small bag
of a tobacco from his denim-shirt pocket and made himself a cigarette, Palmer watched the
event in awe. "You know that is dangerous to your health... don't you?" Palmer said with
a negative tone and Mac snorted as he struck a kitchen match on his pant's leg.

A girl with beautiful blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes sauntered over to the adults
and Mac's eyes widened as he saw a metal ring sticking out of her nose. The sandwich hung
forgotten in her painted-nailed hand.
"When can we go home?" the girl demanded and the shocked rancher waited for her teacher
to chastise the haughty-toned youngster.

Palmer turned to the girl -called Barmel and said in a kind-sounding voice "we shouldn't
be must longer Miss, the Company will be checking the memory banks as we speak"
Barmel showed a petulent lip and by turning on her heel, she dismissed her teacher and
the man in the work-clothes. The cheap saunter took the girl back to her class group.
"My... kids are sure different in the future" Mac stated and the machine behind him made
a parping noise -as if to agree.

A few minutes passed by and the day showed no sign of cooling off. Palmer had produced
several lengths of stiff rods that he struggled to insert into the the now-humming
machine, Mac sat on a rock and watched the the teacher's antics.

Then the Crycto sounded a claxon-like noise and the children all stood at once.
Mac jumped up too and his horse whinnied at the sudden sound, the alarmed animal trotted
off a towards a clump of tumbleweeds that hugged a large weather-smoothed boulder a few
hundred yards away.
Palmer merely beamed happiness.

Then the event that Mac Brazel would keep from the rest of the world -happened and as
the 'hole-in-the-air' appeared to the left of the machine, Palmer clapped to the children
to hurry up and step forward.

The Rancher held onto the urge to urinate and focused on the advancing teacher.
"Thank you for your tolerance -Mr. Brazel and I'm sorry for the mess" Palmer smiled kindly
and reached to shake Mac's hand. Mac just stood in awe of the scene in the desert.
A hole had appeared in mid-air and two men with the same black hair as Palmer were
helping the children to step through into... Mac swallowed and let the thought trail off.

Palmer leaned closer to the shocked herder and whispered "please, not a word about
all this... I may get into trouble" Mac nodded slack-jawed and allowed the man in the
uniform to finish shaking his hand.

Then the machine made a farting noise again, spat out the now-smoldering rods
and the scene vanished, the desert was quiet again -except for the warm breeze
moving the ground-hugging foliage.

Mac forced a lungful of air into himself and rubbed his face, it must have been a dream
-he thought to himself. As his dusty hands left his eyes, he panned his vision around the
scene.
The silver-sandwich wrappers lay everywhere and the burnt-brown rods sat in the
furrow near some brown fabric, Mac guessed this stuff was the rods that may have
melted.
After two minutes of standing under the mid-day sun and collecting his thoughts, Mac
Brazel stepped over to where the these strange sticks lay, there was no indentations
where the Crycto had been stood and the Rancher squatted to examine the markings
on the brown rods.

There were floral designs and strange shapes engraved on the surfaces of the sticks
and with squinting eyes, he looked closer. A metallic ring lay in the ploughed dirt
and Mac carefully picked it up, the dull lustre of the material implied gold.
Written on the inside edge of the ring were two english words and the sheep-herder
smiled in the late-morning heat. 'Barmel Marcel' was etched there and without another
thought, the ring was slipped into the pocket with the tobacco.


After collecting his horse, William Brazel set out for the nearby town of Roswell and
knew he would have to come up with a good story for this one.
'Flying saucers were the latest thing in these parts' -he thought and as his horse stepped
over the rise, Mac reckoned that's where the story resided.

But would they believe it?

the best writting talent on ATS, Ive said it a million times

Love it! And I see some things never change. Even in the future teachers are supplied with the most shoddy and run-down of supplies. hehe.

Great story.

Nice read. I could completely picture the scene in my mind and felt the heat and dust and got a good sense of the characters. Enjoyed this!