Roswell 1947

Ms. Marlowe’s classroom was a world unto itself. The walls were lined with shelves filled with relics from bygone eras: ancient scrolls, dusty tomes, ornate weapons, and curious artifacts. The centerpiece of this eclectic collection was a large, unusual clock that stood in the corner. It seemed to tick to its own rhythm, often catching the attention of students with its erratic movements.

Ms. Marlowe herself was as enigmatic as her classroom. With her sharp eyes, quick wit, and a seemingly endless knowledge of history, she was both a mentor and a mystery to her students. Her dark hair was always impeccably styled, and her attire, a blend of vintage elegance and modern practicality, added to her aura of timelessness.

On this particular Saturday morning, the sun filtered through the dusty windows of Ms. Marlowe's history classroom, casting long, golden beams across the rows of wooden desks. The room was filled with the faint smell of lemon pledge and old books, a comforting yet slightly oppressive reminder of the countless lessons that had unfolded within these walls.

One by one her student began to arrive for detention. Ben was being even more hyperactive than usual. Emma went to the far side of the room, sitting down and staring out at the world beyond looking for answers to what currently troubled her.

Ben rushed to Ms. Marlowe's desk with a photocopy of a newspaper clipping in his hand. He dumped it before the teacher, “Roswell! Ms.! The truth is out there. We just have to find it."

“I am gratified by your enthusiasm, Benjamin,” Ms. Marlowe finishing her notes before looking up from the journal, “But there is a protocol for our trips. I need time to do my research.” She looked up at him, " I was already planning for you to me an historical figure which is less risky than our previous travels."

“Just for a minute! We don’t have to stay! We’ll just take a peek and leave,” he said, suddenly catching Sam's eye.

Ben's forehead furrowed for a moment. He couldn't believe that Sam had the audacity to ask. His bruises were his business.

Sam felt a little intimidated by Ben's stare. He needed to drop his enquires or risk scaring his friend away. Besides he had his own worries at the moment, glancing over at Emma.

At that moment, Jake stumbled into the room. He was wearing dark glasses. He fell into his seat wincing as the wooden chair creaked under his weight. His head throbbed with the after-effects of last night's party. The noise of his classmates seemed amplified, each word piercing his skull like a sharp knife. He dropped his head onto the desk.

Needing a distraction, Sam slipped into the seat beside Jake, lifting his head from the table by the scruff of his shirt, “Hey! He lives!” He lowered his head back down to the desk, “Though he doesn't look long for this world.”

“I’m sick,” Jake rested his head on his hands, “It wasn’t even a good party. I’d rate it a bore feast.” Sam removed his dark shades, examining his bloodshot eyes. His skin was a sickly pallor. Jake took back his shades, grumbling, “It’s all your fault. I was doing what you said. I was practicing my kissing technique…except Alex didn’t like me practicing with Luke Hodge.”

Emma would usually find this scandalous but was still fixed on something outside the window. So, Lily asked in her place, “Lovely! Not the alpha male of the school?”

“We were experimenting…but for very different reasons.”

Ms. Marlowe raised an eyebrow before circling her desk to stand in front of Jake. She too removed his dark shades to examine his condition, “Mr. Jamieson! Do we need an intervention about your risk-taking behaviour?”

“I’d sooner not,” he blanched.

“Well, it may interest you to know, that sometimes passing through the portal can lift and separate what ails,” The teacher said, placing the shades back on him. “Not that I would suggest time travel as a method for excusing your behaviour but this will make my class a lot more tolerable.” She smiled, wistfully, “I know I will regret not doing my proper due diligence, but under these horrid circumstances," She placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "I think we’ll take your suggestion.”

Jake looked up, “I wouldn’t say those past visits underwent a thorough background check. We were assaulted by thugs and were almost eaten alive by ants.”

*You can catch up on these adventures in the blog posts - The Forsaken Village and The Akhemkare Curse -1 & 2

“Jake, I have my limits too,” Ms. Marlowe sighed, “I can only research what is available about a said event.” Ms. Marlowe beckoned to her students, "Very well. Gather around Time Sleuths."

“Sweet!” Ben jumped up and doing a perfect pirouette on the spot.

"I will need to recalibrate the systems," Ms. Marlowe ventured over to the peculiar clock and opened the glass clock face, "You don't think I plan these trips by magic alone." She began to move the hands of the clock to different points. She frowned, going over to her journal, flipping to a page in the middle than going back to fiddle with the hands a little more until she was happy, "There! That should do it." She closed the glass case and turned to the students, "I usually have more time to be exact with my calculations."

At that moment, the hands of the peculiar clock began to spin wildly, emitting a soft, otherworldly glow that bathed the room in an eerie light. A strange, rhythmic humming filled the air, but Ms. Marlowe remained calm and composed.

With a casual wave of her hand, she gathered the students around. As if by magic, the clock’s hands abruptly stopped, and a swirling vortex materialized in the centre of the room, beckoning them toward their next adventure.

As Jake stepped through the swirling vortex, he felt an immediate sense of relief, as though the weight of last night’s revelry was being lifted from his shoulders. The disorienting rush of colours was soon replaced by a refreshing clarity. His pounding headache faded, and the foggy haze that had clouded his thoughts evaporated.

When he emerged on the other side, he was astonished to find himself feeling alert and rejuvenated, his senses sharp and his energy renewed. The remnants of his hangover seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a newfound excitement for the adventure that lay ahead.

They were now enveloped by the cool, starlit expanse of desert in New Mexico. The vast, dark sky above was punctuated by the distant, eerie glow of the moon, casting long shadows over the rugged landscape.

"You have ten minutes," Ms. Marlowe instructed, her voice steady despite the flurry of emotions racing through her mind. “Use your time wisely.”

"Sweet! We'll finally know what crashed here," Ben said, as Lily came to stand beside him quickly trying to sketch the landscape. She smiled at his excitement. "And whether it is our own or something from beyond."

Lily frowned, glancing over at him, "What do you mean, lovely? You don't think the crash was from outer space?"

"There are a lot of mixed opinions online. I am open to all possibilities as we all should be in life," Ben couldn't stay still from the adrenaline. "If it was made right here on planet Earth, who gave them the idea? And, of course, the other tantalizing theory so sweet that I could easily become diabetic, this could be our first contact with life beyond this planet." Ben glanced back at the others, his forehead furrowing, "When did they get so close?"

Lily noticed, Emma, suddenly pulled her hand away from where it had been resting in Sam's palm, "Oh lovely! So frustrating! They're on the down low. " She turned back to the landscape not wanting to embarrass them. "They were studying at her place for a mathematics assignment. Her father caught them...in a compromising situation." Ben looked in awe, "Oh, it was just kissing but the dad has a thing about Aboriginals." She glanced back, "The father tried to pull Emma out of this detention, but Ms. Marlowe would not allow it. She got her own way as usual which was surprising as her dad doesn't usually listen to anyone."

Suddenly, the barren surroundings were punctuated by a sudden, thunderous roar, and they turned just in time to witness a streak of light blazing across the sky. Everyone hit the deck.

The object, metallic and gleaming, plummeted toward the ground, its trajectory ending in a fiery explosion that illuminated the desert floor in a brilliant flash.

The ground shook beneath them. Dust and debris rained down upon them. Before they could process, what they had just seen, the ground erupted with activity.

Army Airforce vehicles screeched to a halt around them. Personnel, their uniforms barely visible in the dim light, surrounded them within moments. Ms. Marlowe and her students were too stunned to resist as they were swiftly and efficiently handcuffed, their protests drowned out by the authoritative bark of orders.

"You're trespassing on restricted military property," a stern officer barked, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You will be detained for further questioning."

Ms. Marlowe and her students were pushed and shoved down dimly lit corridors of a secret military base. The walls were stark and sterile, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that flickered intermittently. The students couldn’t help but marvel at the sleek technology and fortified security that surrounded them that looked so advanced for 1947. They were soon led into a sterile interrogation room, where stern-faced man awaited.

The atmosphere was tense as Ms. Marlowe took her seat at the center of the room; her demeanour as composed as ever. The students watched in a mix of awe and trepidation as the officer began his questioning.

Major Richard Haines, a burly man with a furrowed brow and an air of unyielding authority, sat across from Ms. Marlowe. His uniform was immaculate, adorned with a collection of medals and a stern expression that suggested he rarely encountered anything he couldn't control.

He leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Ms. Marlowe with an intensity that could cut glass. “Ms. Marlowe,” Major Haines began, his voice a gravelly growl, “you and your students have arrived in a restricted area. We need to know how you got here and what your intentions are. Start talking.”

Ms. Marlowe, seated with an air of casual grace, tilted her head slightly. She played with her luminous medallion, its glow reflecting off her serene face. “Well, Major Haines,” she said with a whimsical smile, “when the clock strikes twelve and the moon is high, one might find that the stars are less aligned with our expectations and more inclined to dance.”

Haines’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be funny! You have breached a restricted base! Who do you work for? The Russians?”

Ms. Marlowe chuckled softly. “Men and their conspiracies! You never stop looking for phantoms."

Major Haines’s frustration was evident as he gripped the edge of the table. “Are you deliberately avoiding the question?”

Ms. Marlowe’s fingers traced lazy circles on the medallion, which glowed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. “You know, the key to your answers might be hidden under the rose bushes of time.”

Jake snicker, under his breath, “I call bull shit! A big friggin truck load.” He glanced to one side catching the eye of a young Air Force kid who was trying very hard not to laugh. Jake felt his cheek flare, saying under his breathe, "A friend of Dorathy, perhaps? Wasn't that what we use to say as code talk."

The boy, not much older than Jake, had a curious glint in his eye as he subtly shifted his gaze between Jake and Ms. Marlowe. The unspoken intrigue was clear—he was captivated by the mystery unfolding before him.

Major Haines slammed his hand on the table, his patience wearing thin. “Enough with the riddles! Either you start giving us straight answers or we’ll have to escalate this situation.”

Ms. Marlowe’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Ah, Major, I would watch that blood pressure. Bound to cause ill health if not kept in check.”

Haines’s face reddened with frustration, but Ms. Marlowe’s enigmatic demeanour remained unshaken, her playful disregard only fuelling his mounting exasperation. He stormed out of the room, his frustration palpable as he slammed the door behind him.

The young Air Force Private, Tom Sullivan, remained behind, his posture rigid and his expression stoic. He was a tall, lean figure, with sandy brown hair neatly combed and sharp blue eyes that betrayed a hint of curiosity beneath his otherwise disciplined facade. His uniform was immaculate, the creases crisp and the insignia polished to a shine.

Jake, seizing the opportunity, leaned forward. “Hey, Private Sullivan, right?”

Sullivan glanced at Jake with a guarded expression. “That’s right. What’s on your mind?”

Jake almost told him, but this was 1947 after all. He couldn't boldly ask about his sexuality. He might not know about the code either. So, went for something a little tamer until he could work out this guy."

“Don’t suppose you could lend us your keys,” Jake smiled, cheekily. “Then we’d be out of your hair.”

“Sorry, pal,” the private said, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Your request is way above my rank.”

“Well, I gave it a shot,” Jake shrugged, the fly boy's checks redden slightly. “I'm Jake Jamieson by the way." They shook hands, "So, did you see it? The big ass spaceship.”

The private knelt beside Jake, “The stuff of science fiction. Reminded me of a film I just saw. The Day the Earth Stood Still. It’s about these aliens coming to Earth.” Sullivan’s passion for movies bridged the gap between them, offering a glimpse into his more personal side. "It was just so...gripping." He suddenly noticed that his leg was resting against Jake, and it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. "I even jumped in my seat."

Jake’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm at how close they were. “Really makes you think about what’s out there.”

"Exactly," Sullivan remembered where he was, clearing his throat. He pulled away from Jake as if nothing had happened. “And now we’re about to find out.”

“I don’t get it! Why become a fly boy?”

“I thought if I could be the kind of man the Armed Forces wanted—strong, disciplined, capable—I could get rid of certain..." Again, he remembered where he was changing his response. "I thought it would make me into the man everyone expected me to be.”

Jake nodded, “Like pushing away things that make you feel different?”

“Exactly,” Tom said, his eyes downcast. “I figured if I could just focus on being a perfect soldier, those weaker thoughts would disappear.”

Jake's heart went out to him. “It sounds like you're trying to live up to a lot of expectations.”

Tom gave a small, rueful smile. “Yeah, something like that. Yet no matter how hard I try. I can’t rid myself of these...”

Jake touched his shoulder reassuringly. “Tom, you don’t have to be someone you’re not. Those parts of yourself you think are weaknesses might actually be your strengths.”

Tom looked at Jake, a mixture of hope and fear in his eyes. "It’s just... a lot harder to realise when…you’re like me.”

Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the base, bathing the dimly lit corridors in a pulsing red light. A voice crackled over the loudspeakers, “Code Red. All personnel to emergency stations. Containment breach in Sector 7. Code Red.”

The lights flickered and then exploded, sending shards of glass showering down. Gunfire echoed through the halls, and the base was plunged into chaos. The heavy metal door to the interrogation room popped open with a loud clang, and the students, along with Ms. Marlowe, glanced at each other, wide-eyed.

In the doorway, a shadowy figure appeared briefly, illuminated by the strobe of emergency lights. It was an alien, its silhouette tiny and slender, with glowing, almond-shaped eyes. The creature was the size of a child. The being darted away, its movements swift and almost otherworldly. Moments later, personnel rushed past in pursuit, shouting commands and brandishing weapons.

Air Force Private Tom Sullivan’s face was a mask of tension and confusion as he raised his rifle, aiming it at the group. “Stay where you are!” he barked, his voice trembling.

Jake quickly stepped in front of him, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Tom, wait! We’re not the threat here. There’s something bigger going on.”

Sullivan’s grip on the rifle tightened, his eyes darting between Jake and the now-open doorway. He was visibly shaken, the reality of the situation clashing with his training. “I have orders. I can’t just let you leave!”

Jake took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium around them. “Listen, Tom. I know this is freaking you out. I am too,” Jake placed his hand on the rifle slowly lowering it. “But this is our chance to escape. You’ve got to help us.” Sullivan’s gaze flickered uncertainly. “Please! Think with this.” He placed his hand against the private’s chest than touched his head ruffling his hair, “And not this right now.”

While Sullivan drooped while Jake waved everyone else out of the cell. He took the man’s hand which suddenly shook the private out of his rigidness. Sullivan jumped back aiming his gun, “You dirty sicko! I know what you are! I ought blow your head off right now.”

“No!” Ms. Marlowe returned, playing with her medallion, “You don’t want to do that, private Sullivan.” He glanced over at her. The rage seemed to ease, “Jake can be a challenging, somewhat belligerent students, but a decent boy.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Just like you.” She smiled wistfully, “Will you help us to get out of here?”

As they made their way out of the base, faint gas began to fill the corridors. Ms. Marlowe's keen senses kicked into high gear. She sniffed the air, her expression shifting from concern to recognition. "This is not just any gas," she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "It's phosgene."

Emma, the most studious of the group, perked up, "Phosgene? Isn't that a deadly gas used in chemical warfare during World War I? It causes severe respiratory damage and can be lethal."

Ms. Marlowe nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, Emma. It's designed to quickly incapacitate. This is one way to ensure both the alien, and any witnesses are silenced." All of the young people were starting to cough. They copied the woman, covering their nose and mouths, "We need to move faster." She waved her students on ward, “We have to make it to open air before this stuff overwhelms us."

It wasn't long before they burst out into an underground garage. Tom quickly started the jeep, and went full speed for the boom gates, personnel raised their guns to fire but ducked out of the way. The jeep reduced the boom gates to splintered debris. The jeep roared away from the hail of gun fire disappearing into the night.

The vehicle roared through the desert, putting distance between them and the chaos they left behind. As they settled into the relative calm of the night, the group could finally process the surreal events they had just experienced.

Just then, a soft, almost pitiful noise came from the back of the jeep. Ben turned around. He gasped. Huddled in the corner, hidden beneath a tarp, was the alien they had seen earlier. It was injured and trembling, its large quick-sand eyes filled with fear.

"Hey little guy,” Ben looked like his eyes were going to pop right out of his head with excitement, “We have an extra passenger back here!”

Sam also swung around to look at the alien, "Poor little bro! He looks injured!"

“Aliens! We've got to go back!” Tom’s eye opened wider. “That thing could be a threat to national security.”

“Just keep driving! We’d be all dead by now if this little guy was a threat,” Ben called out.

They drove deeper into the desert, the distant lights of the base fading into the horizon. After several miles, Tom found a secluded spot and pulled over.

“Private Sullivan, you can leave us here,” Ms. Marlowe jumped out of the jeep with her students following.

“Out here!”

“We shall be fine,” Ms. Marlowe. “They’ll come for you. You'll be classed as traitor. I suggest you keep on driving until you are well away from this place."

"But what about this...thing?" Tom jumped out and rounded on the back of the jeep. He saw the alien for the first-time feeling sorrow for the being. "Oh! I don't...know what to do?"

He couldn’t explain why, but in that moment, he felt torn. He should return the creature. It was a threat. Yet he couldn't shake the intensity of those alien eyes that were pleading for help. He was even more surprised when Ms. Marlowe operated her watch and the vortex opened up in air before them.

Jake tentatively approached the private, taking his hand, “Look! Don’t hit me! Okay!”

And with that Jake kissed him. The private gave in to the tenderness of his lips. He felt something awaken inside that he had tried to bury with conformity and duty.

"Woah! Bro!" Sam smirked, "That looked hot! Doesn't look like you need the training wheels anymore."

Jake broke away from him and ran towards the whirling portal. He turned back once to wave at the private before returned to his own time. Sometimes, time travel is about saving one man. Not always a village or a disenfranchised skull.

*Interested in finding out more a disenfranchised skull, you can read blog post - The Allure of the Abandoned Storeroom

When Jake got home that night, he looked for information on Private Tom Sullivan. He found records on his birth, a high school yearbook and military service. There was one report of the private missing presumed dead due to a classified incident, a sighting of him in El Paso, Texas, and another in Jamaica, then nothing more. It was as if he vanished off the face of the planet.

#TimeTravelAdventures #LGBTQYA #RoswellCrash47 #FunReads #QueerScienceFiction