Family Pictures

The Ferris wheel creaked and groaned as it spun, defying gravity. As a kid in the southwest, I had a love/hate thing with Ferris wheels. But something was alluring about seeing the world perched atop a rickety wheel held up by bars of steel and spun on demand.

Pushing memories aside, I headed for the ticket booth. A kid barely old enough to shave looked at me like I was crazy and handed me my stub in return for what I thought was too much money.

The line to board the contraception consisted mainly of parents and small kids. My contact said he would wear a blue windbreaker and a Bills ballcap accompanied by his small kids. He was right about the Bills cap, as there are few Bills fans in this city. I spotted him waiting in line and slipped in line behind him. I sat across from him and his kids in the same car. The two small boys were excited to have a day with Dad.

As the wheel groaned and came to life, the baskets swung as they gained altitude. I had been watching the wheel most of the morning and timed out how long each turn took and how many turns it took, so I knew exactly how long I had. I shouted over wheels creaking, screaming kids, and the howling wind.

“Robert.”

He sat straight in the wooden carriage seat and looked at me. “You came.”

“I said I would. You have it?”

“Yeah.” He distracted his kids by pointing to something on the ground and fished a long envelope from inside his jacket. He held it out, and I snatched it from his hand and slipped it into my coat.

“I’ll contact you again later. You enjoy the rest of your day with your kids.”

By now, the wheel was on its final spin, and the kids were getting bored and antsy. They weren’t the only ones who wanted off this god-awful machine. When the wheel finally settled, I waited until Robert and his kids exited. I headed for the nearest coffee shop, ordered an espresso, and sat in a dark corner. I opened the envelope.

The old black and white photos revealed alien ships shot down in Roswell, New Mexico, over fifty years ago.

I already knew that.

Robert, one of our best operatives, wouldn’t tell me who had the photos, but he promised they would no longer be an issue. Without corroboration, the images were useless. The government would claim that someone had faked the photos.

I put them back in the envelope and smiled. As I finished my drink, I booked a flight to New Mexico. My grandfather will be excited to see some old family pictures.