"After Roswell" - A.H. Roberts (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) 📗

could further my chances of getting me back home or at least provide me with more information. Recent studies suggest that huge migrations of humans have been making the effort to get to California. Got to head west. I sit in the kitchen waiting for Mr. Garfield to arrive. Sitting there for two whole days.
WACK! I dozed off hitting my head on the countertop. I rub the bump. Its doens't seem to reveal much bruising. So I head outside and with perfect timing. Mr. Garfield had just pulled up to the property. "Hey Lucas. Good morning to you. Hope yer ready to get this deal done". He exits the vehicle and approaches me with arm around me. "I'm glad you made the right choice. We should go in the kitchen to sign the papers and I can give you the cash". We enter the house and seat at the table in the kitchen. He hands me a pen as I'm reading the material that I've gander at all last night. Already sure with my answer. I waste no more time. "I think everything looks in order. I have no problems with the papers Mr. Garfield. Looks like a done deal". I sign the documents which he grabs quickly. Placing the papers in his pocket inside of his jacket. I stand up shaking his hand to end the business arrangement and he hands me a briefcase. I only can assume that its full with money. I watch him go out the door were I follow him out."So Lucas I'll give you a few days to pack your father's things before I come back to secure the property". Since my stuff is packed I've decided its better to let the property and belongings die with Hank. Most of it doesn't have any value to me. So I reply. "That will be fine. I don't plan on taking anything from the house. You can take care of anything left behind. I'll be leaving tonight". He gets into his vehicle with a creeping grin and waves while driving away. I head back in the house to look more closely at the money and get an accurate count. The papers indicated a deal worth eighty thousand dollars. If that is correct. Its more then enough to get out of Roswell never looking back. With all the money accounted for I pack up the vehicle. I start the engine and press the pedal, kicking up gravel on the porch. With a long glance at the side mirror. I watch the house get smaller the further I drive away. I decided to leave a little early and get out of here before anybody else stops by. I come to a sign pointing the direction to the next county, going west to a possible better location. Anywhere from here is definitely a good start. I take the right turn and head toward the open rode. In hopes of finding a new location and possible rescue from this world.
I'm driving down the open stretch of rode watching other vehicles drive past the opposite direction. Its wonderous to see the ways of travel these humans take. Many roads leading to other states, cities, and regions. These places have a different past and monuments depicting certain events. Some of these people make the long travel not knowing were they'll end up. Also for others they speculate what kind of life to expect. These people move to a new location for many reasons. Some being personal. Others have a financial cause. Making more money has alot to do with it. People looking for better jobs or oppourtunities that can further their chances for a better life. I'm moving for more resources and the chance for more interactions between the species. I want to know more about these humans. I have many talents. I can use them when I arrive to California. Making temporary stops along the way to get information from the locals around. I can get a more detail of the place I'm going. Others might have been out to California and might have some info? Looking at the map earlier I notice a place call Utah. I could head there and maybe learn about the Mormons I've read about. Also there are some natural wonders to observe. There is "The Great Salt Lake" were everything floats on the top, because of the salinity. But consider to be a wonder in that state. There is a city named after the lake. Which gives it some importance. As I'm driving down the road the fuel level reads low. I look for a sign leading to a fuel station. I'm driving down the road when a green sign appears. It indicates a station off to the right. I pull off the road driving down the path leading to the station. I park up to a dusty worn down shop with pumps lining up in the center. The location looks vacant with nobody in sight. So I yell for assistance. "Hello! Is anybody here!" I look around when a voice comes from the outhouse. "I hear yer sir. Pinching a loaf. Give me a minute". He comes out from doing his business. Walking over to fuel my tank. He examines me up and down. The man is dirty with grease and oil on his overalls. He also smells like the outhouse he just got using. The tank is filled by the bell that rings. He takes the pump out and reads the meter. "That be two bucks sir. Can I do anything else for ya". I give him the money. Not responding at all to his question. I get into the vehicle and continue west toward California. If I encounter something of interest I might check it out. Still driving down the straight long road. I can see a fire in the open desert. A tent shining in the blaze. Once closer to the tent I can see a man dancing around the fire. A man with a dark complexion. A type of human that I've never seen before.
I pull off the road to get a more better look at this odd human. In the brief time I known Hank never did I see him do this kind of behavior. As I pull closer to the fire. The man stops his dancing with the fire burning behind him. The fire gives the man a deadly glow as his stance looks that of a warrior. His hand is holding a axe of some kind. He is looking right at me, even with the lights flashing on his face. He doesn't blink or give way. I shut the lights off and come out of the vehicle to meet this man. Try to find out about his practice or ritual. I start introductions. "Hello my name is Lucas. I seen you from the road. I'm just wondering what are you doing? I'm kind of curious". He looks at me and tilts his head. Confused about the human language I just spoke to him. "Do you speak English". I've read a little on the specific location I'm stranded on. Its a country called United States of America and has many different cultures here. He might be from here. Its just that he speaks a entirely other language. With no response. It still remains a peaceful interaction. "I can comprehend that you have the language of another". I pull some recent information I gather on some of the local civilizations that inhabit the American west. The populations that exist in this country are a certain type of American. The Native Americans. Much detail was available on them. Included in this information was the numerous tribes that were around and the little numbers that exist today. Its sad to say that these tribes were mighty people who took care of the land and the air they breathe. Now a new culture flourishs today. One that controls the fate of this planet. Soon the man starts to circle me, trying to sense who my real character or attentions might be. I have some worries if this "indian" knows my true identity and has found a flaw in my costume. He speckles a fine dust on top of me. I feel the effects of a trance arising within. I see the surroundings start to drizzle in and out of my eyes. Things show up in the scenery around me that were not there before. I'm under an illusion, a technique of the primitive man. I don't fight it. I let the experience flow through my body causing my legs to buckle. I take a sit on the log thats infront of the fire. He starts to talk as my ears begin to understand what he is speaking. Like the dust has given me the power to hear his language. So I listen carefully to words he speaks. He says a blessing to my arrival, throwing dust into the fire. With this dust he makes the fire rise taller in the pit and then recedes back to normal state. He is mumbling and I'm unable to make out some of the words. This language he speaks was located in some material that I read. This language is Southern Athabascan. I finally hear him speak more directly as he turns facing my direction. "You are not from this world. I can feel and smell your true soul within". He takes a good look at me, trying to unmasked my face with his eyes. "The gods tell me you don't belong here. I feel that you must be lost, trying to find a place that you belong". I can't believe that this man of little knowing could actually be able to read my thoughts. I reply."Some of want you say is true. But my features lie way deeper than you could imagine. You are correct in knowing that I'm lost". He continues his dancing ritual from earlier and circles fast around the fire. While performing this erractic behavior he explains his odd behavior."I will help you regain your focus and let the gods guide your way back home". He even jumps through the fire and throws pieces of wood and more dust into the pit. The fire gets bigger as he prays to his gods above. Requesting they give him thunder and rain in their response to helping me. Then a flash of lighting strikes nearby us. He stops dancing and praying. The fire goes out from a quick wind. Above our heads the sky feels with dark clouds. Within seconds a down pour of tremendous rain follow by stentorian rolling thunder. We seek cover inside his tent. I take a sit away from the entrance. Inside I see his craft and artwork arrange neatly around his living space. My first encounter with this man and I judge him wrong. He seems to have the insight beyond the plain he exist on now. We sit and stare until he breaks contact to grab a pipe tucked underneath a red cloth. He takes the pipe and with a strike of a match lights the end, taking in huge amounts of the substance. He exhales a ploof of smoke. He hands me the pipe as I'm remembering what this substance can do to ones health. But he looks at me insuring that it is safe to take the offering. "Its alright friend, were only trying to get in touch with the gods on the other side". I exhale the substance puffing out smoke, filling the space around us. Coughing insues, coming to my attention this isn't tobacco I witness Hank smoking. I lay back feeling another illusion before blacking out.
CLAP! I wake up with the indian overtop me gesturing to me to come outside. I move the flap of the tent over to the sight of the Sun coming down the mountainside. The beauty and pleasure of