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guess? Or let me rephrase: What do you want them to be?”
    Pippa pulled the small brown bag into the front. The bottom was darkened by grease. She took out a chocolate-covered donut and bit into it, her cheeks puffing like a hamster as she talked. “Well. It’s got to be aliens, right?” She swallowed the donut and washed it down with a bottle of water. “I mean, it needs to be something that was technologically advanced beyond anything we’ve seen before. Even now, they would be a technological marvel. So other than extraterrestrial origins, and that could either be aliens or perhaps they came down on a meteorite or something, the only other explanation would be time travel, and that’s just as crazy.”
    Charlie slowed as a tractor pulled out on the road from a farm to his left. He waited for a clear space and throttled his Ram truck, speeding past the farmer. He held his hand up as he passed and got a wave back from the farmer.
    “Friendly people,” Charlie said. “I wonder how they’ll react when this place becomes home to a million news reporters. You realize that if this is what it seems and it gets out, it’ll be the biggest news story in human history.”
    “That’s what scares me the most. It’s so … out there. What if we’re discredited? You know what the media is like. We could have our careers ruined.”
    “Or it could make our careers. Why be pessimistic about it?”
    “I don’t know. I just don’t trust the media. How many times have we seen a historical program butchered for accuracy to sensationalize something or to make it more entertaining? The media don’t do truth. They’ll have us as crazy scientists with a crackpot theory.”
    “Fuck them,” Charlie said. “We’ll do this right. We’ll figure it out based on evidence. No one will be able to accuse us of not doing our due diligence.”
    A police cruiser with its light flashing shot past Charlie’s truck, its siren blaring. Behind, a fire truck followed.
    In the distance, Charlie saw a dust cloud rise. “Is that … from the dig site?”
    Pippa leaned forward and squinted. “I don’t know for sure. It’s in the same direction.”
    Charlie floored the accelerator and followed the fire truck and police cruiser. With each mile, the anxiety built inside. It seemed they were going the same way. As they approached a turning, he muttered to himself, “Please don’t turn.”
    But they did.
    “This doesn’t seem good,” Pippa said.
    Charlie followed but hung back from the emergency vehicles. They took the exact route he had planned to get to the site. When he turned out of Cedar Drive, he saw the cruiser and the fire truck pulled up at the dig.
    By the time Charlie had negotiated the rough dirt track and pulled up to the gate, police tape was already being dragged across and around a section of the clearing. Charlie leaned out of the window. “What’s going on?”
    An officer came to him. “Please turn around, sir. This area is closed to the public for now.”
    “I work here,” Charlie said. “I’m with Quaternary Productions. This is our dig site.”
    “Not anymore, son.”
    The anxiety was turning to ice inside his guts as he turned off the ignition and approached the officer. “What exactly do you mean?” He showed him his ID to prove that he was who he said he was. Pippa got out of the passenger side and joined Charlie at the gate.
    “What’s happening?” she said.
    The officer held the tape up, satisfied they were who they said they were. “It’s probably best if you come and see for yourselves.”
    They followed him under the tape and into the clearing. Dust and dirt clung to the air, obscuring the trees. It felt like they were entering the eye of a twister. The fire truck’s lights were flashing, giving the place a surreal feel. They reflected off the flapping, white fabric of their finds tent that they had set up. Its poles were snapped, and it covered the ground. The fire truck obscured the actual