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by John
Rated: E · Fiction · Death · #2140594
Karakum Desert. It covers 85% of Turkmenistan. Abandoned. What a lonely place to die.

Where the Rimirak Roam

In a time before cell phones, a time before computers, a time before Elvis and rock & roll, a time after a terrible weapon put an end to a world war. There were people, honest people, which claimed an unknown type of aircraft crashed in the New Mexico desert near Roswell. The military claimed it was a weather balloon. The story now repeats itself in the Kara-Kum desert.

My name is Allen McCardell. I'm a graduate student in the field of metallurgy and presently assistant to Dr. Philip Dahl professor of aeronautics at the University of Birmingham. The journal you hold was intended for my field notes, but, now, I fear it will only serve to record my last days. Six days ago we left Serdar Turkmenistan and headed north into the great Kara-Kum desert following reports of a mysterious aircraft partially buried in the sand. Professor Dahl has associated himself with numerous high security government projects. I too have a high level security clearance. The reason for my clearance is meaningless now, but, it's the reason I'm here with Dr. Dahl and two army officers, Col. Goodwin and Lt. Claxton.

Today I awoke about mid-day with a terrific headache. Dr. Dahl sat a few yards away with his head in his hands. The army was nowhere in sight.

"We were drugged", he said with a bit of a slur. "It was the workers. They took the trucks, trailer and everything else. All eight are gone."

"You got a headache?" I asked.

"Busting," came the reply. "It's the drug they used on us."


The Kara-Kum Desert

"What are we going to do now?" I asked.

"I'll think about that when the headache goes away," Dahl answered.

"Where's the army?"

"They're doing what an army does, scouting the perimeter," Dahl answered.

The headache eased as the day wore on and was gone by evening. The only thing the bandit/workers left was a plastic tarp put down for a tent floor. We used that for cover while the army stood watch.

I awoke at daybreak and walked over and sat down beside the Professor and watched the sunrise. "Wonder why they didn't just kill us," I said.

"They did kill us, Mr. McCardell. Its sixty miles south to Serdar, seventy-five miles east to Darvaza and the Gates of Hell, a hundred miles north to Uzbekistan and one hundred-twenty miles west to the Caspian. With no food no water, do you thing we'll just walk out or do you think we will die? The communication equipment was in the trucks and the army don't know where were located, security reasons."


A natural gas crater that has burned for forty-five years and referred to as "The Gates of Hell"

"Yeah, I see what you mean," I said after a long pause.

"It's that alien craft over there that scared off the Turkmen," said Goodwin. "The strangeness is more than they can comprehend... By-the-way, Dr. Dahl, what is your assessment of the craft?"

Dahl shook his head, "Haven't studied it enough to come up with anything definitive...

"Any thoughts, Mr. McCardell?' asked Goodwin.

"We need to give them a name," I said. "Coin a new word. I recommend 'Rimirak'."

Dr. Dahl just shook his head. Lt. Claxton didn't move. Goodwin said, "Whatever... is that all?"

I paused momentarily before answering, "The exterior is the color of titanium and the luster suggest a high silicone content, it's just a guess. Other unsubstantiated deductions can be made from the layout of the interior. The Rimirak have a human type shape and average of four inches shorter. There were twelve to sixteen of them onboard... Oh, and our sun is brighter than they're accustom to, my question is where are they?"

"Good question," said Dahl. "And when were they? There's nothing to give us a clue as to when this happened. It could have been a five thousand years ago or it could have been last month."

"The army will find us," Lt. Claxton spoke for the first time. "When we don't radio in they'll send out a search party. I know they will. They won't just leave us out here to die. The army will save us, they'll send helicopters."

It's been five days now and no army rescue team and no wandering Turkmen nomads. I am very weak from no food or water. This could be my last entry.

Claxton killed himself this morning. Col. Goodwin and I are too weak to bury him. Dr. Dahl drifted off into the desert, said he was going out to die where the Rimirak roam.


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