The Sheriff. Angi Morgan

One

      “This is not happening. Aliens are landing and I can’t find the camera.”

      Lights moved in an erratic pattern low in the sky. Not aliens, but it was fun to think so. Someone on the ground? No. The lights were moving too swiftly. It had to be a chopper. It could not be a phenomenon. And especially not a UFO.

      Andrea Allen was very familiar with everything that flew. She had to be when she was the only child of an astronaut and a pretty good pilot herself. It was definitely not a plane. It didn’t look like a chopper, but it had to be. The lights weren’t in the correct place. It hovered and disappeared.

      Pulling the cords from her ears, she heard the faint drumbeat of “Bohemian Rhapsody” rocking in the background, but no mechanical sounds echoing in the distance. She rubbed her eyes and found the hovering object with the telescope. Whatever it was, it just wasn’t producing enough light to distinguish an outline above the desert with a mountain ridge in the background.

      Normally, she was bored out of her mind with the study on the Marfa Lights. Even though several tourists had posted seeing activity recently, no one with credentials had verified anything. Tourists posted all the time. Didn’t they know it was just an occurrence similar to the aurora borealis? Everyone had heard of the northern lights, right?

      The UT students studying the local phenomenon from the McDonald Observatory got excited, clamoring for a turn to watch the uneventful sky. Three nights later with no activity, everyone assumed the sighting had been taillights from the highway and then they all wanted the weekend off for a party.

      Bored. Tonight had been no exception.

      Nothing happened in this West Texas desert except lots of star time. Which she loved. She loved it a lot. Much more than she missed friends and family. Staring at a clear night sky was something even her astronaut dad didn’t understand.

      Since it hadn’t been her night to stare through a telescope at the far distant universe, her coworker Sharon had begged Andrea to take her place on the university study. Sharon wanted the night off because she had a hot date with her boyfriend, Logan. Granted, the young student had been here three nights in a row, since it was part of her class assignment. Andrea didn’t mind. She needed to switch sleeping to days anyway.

      Another sparkle of red twinkled. Just a bit closer than the last spot.

      With her spare hand she dug around in the disorganized bag her coworker had dropped in her front seat before leaving the observatory. “Where’s that silly camera?”

      She lost sight of the floating light through the scope and bounced her gaze to the horizon. Nothing. Had it disappeared?

      If the darn thing came back, she needed the camera to record it. Dumping the satchel upside down, she searched through the assortment of items that resembled a loose picnic basket. Snacks, bottles of water, gum wrappers, a notepad, a small tripod, a spoon to go along with the empty yogurt containers, three different bags of candy—the butterscotch made her pause and unwrap a piece to stick in her mouth. No video camera.

      She scooped everything back into Sharon’s UFO-watching sack.

      Where’s the camera? It was just here. She closed her eyes to visualize getting in the car. Sharon had run outside with the bag in her hand as the car backed out of the parking space. The window had been down. “Passenger side. It must have fallen under the seat.”

      “My gosh.” The adrenaline rush grew each time she saw the light a bit closer. A burst of red. A burst of blue. A plane would have red or green running lights on its wings and a white strobe light would be a consistent flash. A chopper, same thing. There were ways to identify what was in the air. Flight patterns.

      Amazed, she just stared.

      “Camera!” She ran to the car, pausing when she caught sight of the red flash again. She still couldn’t distinguish an outline of what was flying haphazardly and low to the ground. It couldn’t be a UFO. There were no such things.

      Did she really believe that? No life in the universe other than on Earth? No time to debate, she needed pictures. Lots of pictures and evidence.

      No one was around for miles to break into Sharon’s tiny compact car, so it wasn’t locked. The keys were still even in the ignition. Andrea yanked open the door, immediately feeling under the seat. “Gotcha!”

      The strap was caught on something. The sky behind her was empty as she switched to the backseat, dropping to her knees again to get low enough to search.

      If she could obtain evidence of the Marfa Lights, she could publish in addition to her PhD, make a name for herself as an astronomer. Finally be worthy of her Allen heritage. It all hinged on concrete evidence. Could it happen? She recognized the sudden nausea and shakiness as fear. Fear of jumping to conclusions and being discredited. She’d verify the facts.

      “What am I thinking? I have my own study to finish. I’m not chasing another subject. This is university work. I. Can’t. Switch. Again.” Her teeth ground against each other in frustration—not only with the silly camera strap, but also with the lack of focus her parents had accused her of. “What is this stuck on?”

      The flashlight was back on the viewing platform with the UFO bag, and the dome light had been out for months. She couldn’t really see anything under the seat, even bent at another awkward angle. But she finally came up with the handheld video camera, pressing Record and immediately scanning the sky for her mystery lights.

      Andrea maneuvered from the tiny car, resting the camera on the door frame. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk while recording, but I think it’s better to describe what I’m seeing. Mainly because I don’t know what I’m seeing. Five minutes ago there were flashing lights. Nothing about it suggests standard aircraft. And yet nothing suggests the Marfa phenomenon.”

      The corner of her eye caught a blur, something running from the darkness in her direction. She swung the camera toward it.

      “I can’t tell what that is. For the record, I’m Andrea Allen and alone out here. There’s nothing close at hand to defend myself from wild animals or— Good grief, what is that?”

      She kept recording, squinted. Still couldn’t make it out. “The lights have disappeared. I don’t know what’s weaving toward me, but I think I’m going to get back in the car and roll up the windows.”

      Proud of herself for continuing the recording, she felt with one hand until finding the window handle. It was the first time she was grateful she’d paid extra for electric windows. But she wasn’t in her car, she was in Sharon’s old sedan. Backseat ready, she pushed the lock and shut it, then moved to the front door.

      During the transfer, she lost where the movement was, spotting it again when she found the handle. Closer. More in focus. A man. Staggering.

      She dropped the camera on the seat, using both hands to tug at the window stuck on the old car. “Not now. Uh. Give me a break.”

      “Help.”

      “Help? Not likely.” She ran to the driver’s side. If she couldn’t get locked inside her car, she didn’t have to stay there.

      Marfa was nine miles away. This was a police matter.

      “Please. Help. Night of aliens.”

      She heard him loud and clear as he tripped and stumbled into her. Shirtless, his skin horribly dirty. His lips parched and cracked. With his short-cropped military cut, she could see the gaping wound on the side of his head. There were cuts and bruises all over his arms. Some fresh, some old.

      Where was the nearest hospital? Alpine. She couldn’t leave him.

      He fell into her arms, knocking her into the car frame. She kept him moving, guiding his fall onto the backseat. She pushed at his legs, tried folding them so the door would close.

      “Come on, man. Help me...out...here.” He was unresponsive and most likely unconscious. She ran to the