The Photograph

The ringing phone filled Evelyn with a sense of dread. She stared at the picture in her hand. She knew she shouldn’t be here; and she knew she definitely shouldn’t be seeing what she was looking at right now. The phone rang again. She had to answer it. She defiantly didn’t want Mr. Ericson to think anything was wrong. Especially not with what she had just found. She shoved the photo into her pocket and ran to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Evelyn. How are things going?”

“Pretty good. I put the girls to bed a few minutes ago.”

“Great. Mrs. Ericson and I have just left, so we should be home in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.” Evelyn tried to let out a laugh.

“Thanks, Evelyn”

“Anytime.”

She hung up the phone and leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief. She thought about what had just happened and tried to make sense of it all. She tried to think of a plan. Whatever she was going to do, she had fifteen minutes.

In Evelyn Harper’s sixteen years, she had lived in a total of eight different places. She was in a ‘military family’- her dad was a marine- and wherever they went, they didn’t stay long. They had moved to Richmond the past summer, and had spent the last few months trying to get adjusted. Her mom got a job at the elementary school, as a media specialist, and that is where she had met Mrs. Ericson. The two of them immediately hit it off, and by the time Evelyn was introduced to Mrs. Ericson, she was already hired babysitter. Mr. and Mrs. Ericson had two twin girls, Scarlett and Charlotte, who were eight.

Evelyn wasn’t sure what Mr. Ericson did, she just knew that he worked for the government. He was a very nice guy and she really enjoyed babysitting for him and his wife. She loved their girls, Scarlett and Charlotte, and always had a nice time while she was there. They lived in a beautiful house, originally built on a plantation in the 1840’s. Whatever it was Mr. Ericson did, it paid well.

She was babysitting for the girls that night while Mr. and Mrs. Ericson went on a date. They did that about once a week, now that they had a babysitter. She had played games with the girls, painted their fingernails, watched TV- all the normal things she usually does with them. She put them to bed around 8:00 and then she had time to herself. Something about the old, giant house had always fascinated her. So, against her better judgment, she decided to go exploring.

She wandered upstairs, looked at rooms and rooms full of portraits of old southern gentleman riding into battle, past walls covered top to bottom in Mr. Ericson’s medals and awards. She wondered again what it was that he did.

She came across a room with the door tightly shut. She wondered vaguely what was inside, but knew she shouldn’t snoop. Suddenly a bright flash coming from inside the closed room caught her eye, followed by a strange voice.

“Michael Ericson, please report for duty in sector 9674. There has been an unusual sighting of an unidentified object in this area. Code blue-5774. Repeat: Please report to duty in sector 9674. Thank you.”

Evelyn stared. What was that flash of light? Who was talking? She knew she shouldn’t, but she found herself walking closer to the door…..

Closer….

She turned the knob. It opened.

She walked into the room and was shocked at what she saw. Graphs and charts of stars and planets covered the walls and ceilings. On a giant desk in the middle of the room sat piles and piles of papers and documents. She walked inside.

Walking over to the desk, she noticed what had been playing the message. A tiny pager sat on the top of the papers with its red light blinking. She looked at the paper underneath.

January 17, 1953

Mr. President,

We have had another sighting of them. This is the third one in two weeks. Our scientists figure it best to keep it hidden from the public. We now ask your permission to create a group of people with hidden identities to control this ongoing problem. Our group will be kept secret from everyone, including our wives and families. Anyone who should come upon this organization or the things in it shall be dealt with on a higher level.

Thank you for your consideration.

Richard L.. Ericson

Another sighting of “them”? Who was this man talking about? What ‘group’ was being formed? Then she looked at a photograph on the desk next to the stack of papers. It was an old picture. She couldn’t tell what was in it, but it looked like a photograph of two men. One was much taller than the other, and had strange proportions, almost like his arms were coming out of his head. She stared at it a while longer, trying to make sense of it. That was when the phone had rang.

Now, leaning against the wall, she wondered what it could all mean. She heard Mr. and Mrs. Ericson pull into the driveway. Wiping the sweat of her palms, she greeted them, chatted for a while, said goodnight, and drove back home, a mysterious picture in her pocket.

Michael Ericson was standing at the top of the stairs. He stared at the open door. The door should not have been open.

Walking inside, he surveyed the surroundings. He noticed the red light on his pager, notifying he had a message. He read it. He had been needed for duty, but since he had not responded, someone else had been sent out. That was good. It meant he could get some sleep tonight.

But why was the door open? He never left the door open. Could he have forgotten to close it…? No. He couldn’t have. Scarlett and Charlotte knew better than to come in here, and Evelyn, well, she just didn’t seem the type to snoop.

He looked around the office. Everything seemed to be in place, nothing broken or stolen or even out of order. He kept searching, seeing nothing wrong. He had almost come to the conclusion that he had simply left the door open when he noticed the photograph missing.

“Hi, Evelyn. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”

“No problem.” Evelyn had been a little nervous coming over after what had happened last time, but the Ericsons were nice people and she hated to disappoint them, and besides, she needed the money. She had tried to figure out the photograph once she got home, but she couldn’t seem to make anything out. That was the other reason she had agreed to come back. She wanted to sneak back into the office and figure this thing out.

“Great. Hey, do you mind coming downstairs with me first and having me show you a few things? You know, for emergency situations.” Mr. Ericson smiled at her.

“Sure,” she said. This was a little strange. But she followed him downstairs, a little suspicious despite herself.

He showed her into a tiny room and had her sit down into a chair. Only when he locked the door did she start to get worried.

“Evelyn, did you go in my office yesterday?”

She figured it was best to tell the truth. “Yes, sir.”

“What did you see?”

“Not much. Just some old papers.”

“Okay. Well, I work for a part of the government that no one knows about but the people who work in it. It is highly classified, and none of the ordinary citizens know it exists. It is extremely important that it is kept secret. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. But, why are you telling me this?”

He gave her a dismissing wave of his hand. “We will get to that. What I need you to do now is describe to me what it is that you saw in the photograph.”

Evelyn’s heart was seized with terror. Her voice shaking, she said, “How do you know about that?”

“Please answer the question.”

“Well, to me it just looked like two men, only one was much taller than the other. The taller one had funny things sticking out of his head- almost…. almost like…. antenna or something.”

“You are correct. The taller man was not in fact a man, nor did he really resemble one.” Mr. Ericson began to sort through various bottles of liquid in the cabinet above as he spoke. “That was Poshuk, one of the first aliens to come and actually communicate with us humans. He was a large reason that this program became possible.”

“Aliens?”

“Yes. This is the whole reason for this program. To keep the aliens away from contact with the human race, because, believe it or not, I don’t think they would handle it very well.”

“Oh. But why are you telling me this?”

“Well, it can’t hurt now. You won’t be able to tell anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned from the cabinet, holding a syringe filled with a strange liquid. “I am going to have to ask you to hold out your arm.”

“What? I don’t-”

“Please, Evelyn. It won’t hurt.”

“Okay.” She reluctantly held out her arm. She watched as the syringe went into her vein, and then everything went black.