27. WARREN S. (FINAL) - ON THE (UFO) ROAD AGAIN

She never let me stay too long in one place. I presume that she was afraid that my eye for detail would capture certain things that I might possibly reveal at some time.

I could see no personal comforts in the cabin. We can, I believe, safely assume that it was a short duration scout ship of some kind. I did get a chance to linger a moment over one of the panels located around the central core. I saw enough details to convince me that I was looking at some kind of electronic gunsight. This must have been a weapons console. Then my guide pulled me away again.

I did get to watch the TV monitors on the wall for a while. Most had only static on them. One showed what appeared to be a television picture of one of the moon landings. Another had various military weapons displayed on it.

My guide commented briefly on some things as she showed me around. That is all I remember of the craft. Next thing I knew, I awoke lying face down in the sand.

I thought that I had passed out from the heat. However, something was odd, my red silk shirt was gone. So was my belt and special buckle, and my shoes also. So was the 5 gallon gas can. Why? Had I blacked out and left them somewhere?

I looked for my tracks to see if I could back-track. There were none. I seemed to have appeared as if by magic in this spot. There was a change, however, instead of wondering aimlessly as I had been before, I seemed compelled to go east. I also felt very thirsty, but not hungry.

I filled my socks with a small amount of sand, to act as a cushion and barrier for my feet. I started walking in just that one direction, never leaving my path, what-ever it was. I seemed to be like a zombie. Jut walking. I walked for one day. I did pass out once or twice, but I always kept to the same direction when I awoke. I had no compass, and no map.

I was lucky that a rattler didn't get me. There seemed to be a strange buzzing in my ears at times. Early next morning, I came upon a sort of "summer cabin" out in the middle of what I later learned was an area called Turkey Flats. It is, I also learned later, the only dwelling for 100 miles in either direction in that area. Yet, without a compass or map, I had walked straight to it. How? What had guided me? I didn't know, and I didn't care.

Unbelievably, the back door was open. Now, comes the strangest part of the story. The shack had a large barrel on top, to hold a water supply. To my surprise, it was 3/4s full, of fresh water! In the "front yard" there were five 55 gallon plastic drums. And all held fresh water. Yet, as I could see, there was only a small air strip, and a barely visible dirt road to give access to the place. There were no tire tracks on the road.

I could tell by the sand on the back porch, that no one had been there for months! Yet I had a supply of fresh water! Where from? Left by whom?

And get this. When I went inside the place, it was clean, as if it were used all the time, instead of once in a while. And hold on to your chair. I began to rummage around in the cupboards for food. I didn't expect to find any, you understand, as the place obviously hadn't been used for some time. And yet, I found a container of Quaker oatmeal. Unlike the other items in the pantry, it had no covering of fine dust. It had only been recently put there. There wre also three cans of soup, also appeared to be just placed there. What was going on here? Fresh food in an abandoned shack? How?

Further investigation revealed a five gallon glass jug of water, and it was clearly maked as "drinking water." Even though there was dust on the chair next to it, the jug itself had a fresh, "just arrived" look, and no dust on it.

The shack was equipped with an old, keorsene burning stove unit, made of cast iron. It seemed as if I was expected here! To my further astonishment, there were two new cans of Coleman fuel next to it, also minus the tell-tale covering of dust. It seemed that someone had apparently prepared it for my visit.

My feet were by now full of barbs and needles from my long walk. A few long cactus thorns were thrown in for good measure. My feet were bruised and bleeding, also. I could find no medical supplies, except for a box of Band-Aids. Yet, my "benefactors" seemed to anticipate my needs. I found a full bottle of Vodka. This would do for an antispetic. I poured some in a large pan. I picked as many needles and spikes out of my feet as I could get. I then put my feet into the pan of Vodka. The stinging made me grit my teeth, but I was able to clean and tend to my wounds. There was a shower on the front porch. It consisted of a large wash tub, placed in a make-shift booth. A nozzle was hooked into the make-shift plumbing, and no doubt supplied by the barrel on the roof. I turned on the water, and let it run a minute, to clear the pipes. As I had grown used to my "benefactors' surprises, I didn't even flinch when I noticed a new but un-wrapped bar of soap by the basin. I showered, and washed my hair. I then went inside and fixed some oatmeal.

It seems incredible that whoever had prepared from my arrival, had even considred my preference for sugar and milk in my oatmeal. I found 3 fresh cans (why was everything in 3s?) of canned milk, and a Tupperware container of fresh sugar. They had thought of everything.

When it grew dark, I used the two Coleman lanterns which I had found hanging from hooks on the wall, and which also had full tanks of fuel. I had even been supplied with a box of wooden kitchen matches.

There were a few tattered comic books and after drinking a small amount of striaght Vodka, my aches had subsided enough to relax and read some of them. The bed was fairly clean, and I slept good that night.

I remained in the shack for 2 more days, until I felt strong enough to find my way out of there. My feet still hurt, but I could walk. I found a jacket that was old, but fit. I found a pair of house slippers and a pair of socks. I dressed, and started following the faint dirt road that was leading away.

Let me interrupt for a moment. At this time, I was unaware of my encounter, which had no doubt been blocked from memory. I remember leaving my car, and getting lost. I remembered finding the cabin after wandering for a day and a night. I had no recollection of my encounter, and thought that the cabin had been supplied by the owners. Anyway I followed the road, for four hours. It finally led to the road that I had been driving when my car had died.

It seems funny, but I reached the road at the same time that a Monument Ranger was cruising by in his pick-up and found me. He took me to a Ranger outpost and called the base. He said I was lucky, as they only patrolled that road every two days. It was incredible I had been found when I had.

He said that a woman had called, and reported my abandoned car, but wouldn't tell her name. She had given them the exact location of my car.

The base had apparently launched a search shortly after that. Three helicopters had been combing the area my car was found in, yet had seen no trace of me. I learned that the cabin was located 25 miles from where my car was found. Why had they not seen me, if they had three helicopters? Not seen my bright red shirt? The Ranger said it was as if I had "vanished from the face of the earth" as he put it.

That's when I learned by what a slim chance I had found the cabin that I had. Anyway, a chopper form base soon arrived, and I was taken back to base. I was put in the base hospital, where doctors removed the rest of the thorns from my feet. They said I was in "remarkable" shape for being lost for four days out in what I learned had been record heat. I was treated for exposure, and released two days later. It was a full week before I could walk again. I went and picked up my car at the gas station that had towed it. On impulse, I got in and turned the key. The gas tank still read 1/4 full, as it had that night it had apparently "run out of gas." I turned the key to start, and to my astronishment, the car started right up, and I drove it back to base. I could find no fault with the car later on.

The years came and went. I was married and divorced, and eventually sold the Buick. I was dischargedd and had another car, and another girlfriend. The incident was forgotten.

Only after Mary St. Claire put me under, did the truth come out. Something had compelled me to pick Mary out of all the others that advertised in the paper. You see, the Ranger had said that the last time the owners of the cabin had used it was over a year before I found it. I now have no doubt that it was these un-eartly visitors who had stocked the place with the fresh supplies. They had made me find it.

Could the "mystery woman" who gave the exact location of my car have been the girl on the ship? What had been their purpose? I don't know. You have it as best as I remember it.