From the emptiness of space came a soft hum. The hum grew steadily louder. After hovering for several hours, waiting for the cover of night to begin its descent, a giant cylindrical object pierced the Earth’s atmosphere and sped toward the Appalachian Mountains in the eastern portion of the United States.
The object traveled along the mountain range, zigzagging as if searching for something. From north to south the object went, finally, stopping in North Carolina. It chose a location near Burnsville in Yancey County. It was a mountain, Mount Mitchell, located in the Pisgah National Forest.
The cylindrical object was a spaceship. It dove down along the base of the mountain and hovered a minute. A beam shot out of the top of the ship, a scanning beam. As the ship rose, a blue beam traveled the mountainside. The ship stopped halfway. The blue beam faded and instantly a red beam appeared.
Under the cover of night, the beam increased its intensity. Chunks of rock flew from the area the beam struck. The penetrating laser beam pulsed like a jackhammer. More chunks of rock rose with a steady stream of smoke. Seconds later, the ship flew into the hole it created. A yellow beam shot from the rear of the craft, sealing it inside the mountain.
When the dust and debris finally settled, no trace of the ship existed. Only a small hole shone in the side of the mountain. The ship sat in a cavern with a small hole at the entrance it created. From the ground, the hole was invisible.
The next morning began as usual. Not only were the people of the United States not aware of the significant episode that had taken place last night, but neither were the people of the world. No alarms sounded. No national defense warnings or intrusions of airspace occurred. Nothing out of the ordinary gave away the landing of a spaceship within the borders of the United States of America.
Those who had chosen this particular day to go camping and hiking in Mount Mitchell State Park had a small clue, that is, if they bothered to pay attention to the trivial. In a small stream that flowed at the base of Mount Mitchell, unusual rocks of various sizes and characteristics lay about. One knowledgeable about rock formations could attest to the mountainous nature of the rocks. A hiker, on the other hand, might look up and believe the rocks came from a rockslide. Maybe they would take a souvenir or two. They would think nothing more of the episode.
That night, a smaller craft flew through the narrow opening. It went down the mountain and moved off to the right, over the land. Before long, it stopped and hovered. Beneath it, a green tent shimmered. The soft sounds of snoring came from within the structure. A light shone from the craft and centered over the tent. The light pulsed. Moments later it ceased. A second light with a greenish glow appeared on the center of the tent.
The front of the tent held a long zipper from its top to the ground. The zipper shook and then began moving down the front of the tent. Out crawled a man with a tattoo of barbed wire on his right upper arm. A woman followed. Both were in underwear. They stood. Both held a blank look on their faces as if in a trance. They walked forward away from the tent to a clearing. The light traveled with them and stopped when they stopped. The light pulsed. Moments later they rose into an opening in the bottom of the craft.
The craft sped back to its mothership in the side of the mountain.