A Distant Family Connection: The Roswell Series, #3

By PAUL HABERMAN

They said Daryl Felton was an orphan, but a meeting with an alien queen sends him on an unscheduled journey on a behemoth spaceship where he comes face-to-face with both his past and his future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PAUL HABERMAN
• Release date: Dec 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215001530

PAUL HABERMAN

P. N. (PAUL) HABERMAN has been building a catalog of stories from childhood, first by listening to his father’s accounts of battles he fought during World War II on several continents, then as the result of spending twenty-five years on the Los Angeles Police Department, and several more doing investigations for the City Attorney. Since finally being able to get the time needed to write for himself, Paul has been prolific. His first science fiction novel; It Started in Roswell, was published in 2020, followed by One Journey Too Many in 2021, and now A Distant Family Connection, with a collection of “cop” stories in between, and Book Four of the Roswell adventure waiting in the wings. Paul lives in a Los Angeles suburb with his wife, Marilyn. Their two adult sons claim to enjoy reading their father’s fiction and fantasies.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

INEVER SAW THE TRUCK before it collided with the driver’s side of my Explorer. The noise of the impact was as if it was coming from some other world and didn’t concern me. It was so sudden that hearing the police siren was like an afterthought. Then, everything around me went red, then white, and finally black. The sounds of power tools and shrieking metal were at the edge of my consciousness, but there was no way to know it was done to save my life. I felt they were wasting their time.

Waking up to a sheet pulled over my head should have been a clue, but I was in too much pain to think clearly. Doctors and nurses stood nearby but ignored me while discussing how best to notify the family of the death of one of their own. That it was me they were talking about wasn’t clear until the male voice said, Is Maddie Felton out in the waiting room?

"She’s outside talking to her teenaged boys. This has to be hard on all of them.  

Would you like me to bring them in, Doctor Harris?  

Her husband is so broken up I’d hate to have anyone look at him. Toughest part is needing the wife to make a formal identification. Did you see he had a retired police ID from Austin in his wallet? What kind of shit is it when an ex-cop gets taken out during a police pursuit? Look, Queenie, try to make Mister Felton as presentable as possible and I’ll go talk to the family. See if you can get it done in less than ten minutes.

The sounds of footsteps and a door opening and closing were followed by a dimming of the lights. Queenie, who I assumed was the nurse, was doing something across the room when I had the sudden urge to take a deep breath. That was a bad move, as the pain in my chest caused me to groan loudly. It forced me to sit up on the gurney, nearly throwing me over the side. The nurse ran over to me and pushed me back down.

Took you long enough to start breathing, she mumbled as she turned away. Good thing you’re not dead. 

Not dead, I gasped. Just needed some air.

Nice to hear you talking to me, Mister Felton. Her laugh was as if my death was a big joke. That had me puzzled. I swear, did you hear the doctor declare you dead just a while ago?

Thought so, too, I managed to say. Both wrong. Find the doctor before he makes a complete ass of himself. Maddie will kick his butt for sure. The last came out more as a whisper as things in the room went gray.

The door slamming open and Doctor Harris running to my bedside jarred me awake again. He put his stethoscope to my chest harder than he should have, causing me to yelp in pain.

Damn you, Felton, you were dead just five minutes ago. No vitals, nothing, and now you have the audacity to wake back up?

Sorry to be such a disappointment, Doc, but I really wasn’t ready to go, I said as I pulled in a deep breath. You didn’t tell Maddie I was dead, did you?

Heard that, did you? Never got that far, he said as he was checking my vitals. 

Am I really as messed up as you said? Everything hurts, like I went through a meat grinder.

Look, the pickup truck that smashed into you was going at least eighty miles an hour according to the Austin P.D. and you were dead center. Sorry about being so blunt, but the firefighters at the scene had to cut through the whole left side of your SUV to get to you, he remarked as he continued to reexamine me. By all rights, they could have left you there until the coroner arrived. Seems one of the EMTs at the scene knew you and she demanded that you get brought in here. Me, I’m glad they did, especially right now. All I can say is welcome back, Mister Felton.

The driver that ran into me, did he make it out alive?

Doctor Harris was silent for a moment.

They couldn’t find whoever was behind the wheel. The cops at the scene said when they got up to the pickup truck, the driver’s seat was empty. Except for the deployed air bags, it was like no one had been in the cab. Hard to believe anyone got out of that alive. Damn, I meant other than you.

It didn’t take long for my family to surround me, even while trying to hide the looks of despair when they saw what I looked like. Maddie was obviously distraught, but Jessie and Mark seemed more angry than worried. Doctor Harris made sure there was a bed available for me in the ICU and escorted me up. I finally could ignore his continued apologies by dozing off. 

One thing about the ICU is that you are never alone for very long. I was hooked up to a thousand different machines and tubes, and still the nurses keep coming in to check on me. 

Other than the beeps and tinkles from my mechanical companions, the unit was quiet. Waking once again, I saw the large digital clock over the nurse’s station read 3:55, early morning, I assumed. Another nurse, the same one who had attended me in the ER, was at the foot of my bed, looking at my chart. When she looked at me and smiled, my heart started beating faster. I couldn’t tell what her age was, but at that moment, she had to be one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

How are you feeling, Mister Felton? Is the staff treating you with all the respect you deserve? came out with such empathy that I was almost ready to cry.

She walked up and took my hand, sending a bolt of energy that seemed to travel to every damaged nerve in my body. When she pulled a vial of dark blue liquid from her pocket, I had no idea what it was.

You need to drink this down. It’s not on your chart but I can guarantee it will work wonders, just like in the ER.

Who are you, and what are you doing to me?

My name is Queen. We met downstairs yesterday in the ER. I’ll drop by occasionally with some more of the special medicine I gave you before. It’ll help you heal faster. Oh, and don’t mention my visits to anyone. They wouldn’t understand. 

Queen’s perfume seemed to surround me as I drank the sweet tasting royal blue liquid and then drifted back to sleep. Anything she said to do was exactly what I wanted. 

The next few days were a constant flow of doctors, police investigators who still did not know who had been driving the pursued truck, City Attorneys, and the least welcome, insurance underwriters. My family barely had time to visit with the crush of all the officials. By the time the nurses finally chased everyone out, all I wanted to do was sleep. Each morning for the next week,, at exactly 3:55, Queen appeared, carrying her bottle of blue magic. I say appeared because I never heard her walk up or talk to anyone else in the ICU. 

Don’t you ever take time off? I can’t believe the hospital makes you work longer shifts than the doctors.

I’m here when I’m needed. Checking in with you is not an official duty, Daryl, she said drawing out my name until it sounded more like two words, Dar El. I can call you that, can’t I? she said as she helped me drink another bottle of the liquid blue medicine.

Nodding my head while I drank seemed to satisfy her.

Doctor Harris came up yesterday after the room was empty, I finally said. He discussed the results of the body scans from the past few tests. He claimed my body was healing at an astounding rate for someone who was supposed to be dead. Then he joked that I had some kind of abnormal metabolism that allowed me to heal faster. I didn’t know what to say to him. 

I had to pause for a few seconds, as my breathing had gotten ragged. I couldn’t even give him my family medical history since no one had ever given it to me. All my adoption records were sealed and, truthfully, I had never tried to get into them. Now I wish I had. 

Although I was feeling stronger, the blue liquid, whatever it was, did its magic and put me back to sleep.

An argument outside my cubicle woke me early the next morning.

I say he’s not quite ready for more intensive rehabilitation. Doctor Harris was arguing with the Physician Specialist, who had been giving me respiratory therapy treatments for the past week. Let’s wait a couple of days until he can be moved out of ICU to a private room. 

These orders come from the head of the surgical team, Tom. You stopped being the physician of record once Felton was moved out of your ER. All I’m saying is that based on my last evaluation, this guy is on pace for some more aggressive treatments. Strange as it might appear, his lungs seem like they are almost completely healed. The therapy will not kill him. Just look at his chart.

It’s only been two weeks since the accident and I say it’s too soon to put him under the additional stress.

And I say go talk to Doctor Hoffman. He concurs with my assessment. 

I was in no position to join the discussion, but felt the therapist was right. Even though I had plaster casts and splints protecting all my broken bones, none needed screws or plates to keep the broken parts together. In spite of it, I was awake and listening in on a conversation that was being conducted across the room next to the nurses’ station. How could I hear that when my wife claimed I never heard her from two feet away? Trying to stifle a laugh just caused my bruised chest to ache. Still, I was feeling better and was eager to do more than lie in bed all day.

CHAPTER TWO

SOMEONE MUST HAVE FINALLY made a decision because I was moved to a semiprivate room that same afternoon. The second bed was unoccupied, which suited me just fine. A new host of nurses provided frequent checks on my progress, making me wonder if Queen was going to sneak in once the late-night crew came on board.

Now that I was out of the ICU, the unwanted investigators and insurance pukes seemed less interested in me. Instead, a procession of active and retired law enforcement personnel, some old partners, including the Chief of Police, made brief but frequent visits to check on my welfare and swear they were all looking for the missing driver of the truck. There were also some members of the hospital staff, curious to see the dead man who had risen. The same was true of the firefighters who saved my life. 

Almost always present was Maddie, who took a leave of absence from her school to keep an eye on me and probably to make sure I didn’t die again. She was often accompanied by our sons, Jessie, 16 and Mark, 14. All of them were prepared to spend that first night out of the ICU in my room but were finally ordered home by the senior nurse on duty. It might have been hard to explain things when Queen made her nightly visit. 

At 3:55 A.M. I was awaked by a warm hand on my forehead. Queen was leaning over my bed and smiling. Something was different. Gone was the nurse’s uniform. In its place was a robe that accentuated her over six-foot height. It was diaphanous enough to hint at what was beneath, but opaque enough to make you curious to know more. And I did want to know.

Years ago, there was a young boy suffering from viral pneumonia who needed my help to regain his health, she crooned, as she gave me my latest bottle of the blue liquid. The doctors said he was probably going to die. Even his mother thought so. But I gave him the same medicine I’m giving you. He lived to become a very important person both to me and to your world. The two of you come from the same place, Daryl, a world I can take you to if you desire it. 

She stopped speaking and seemed to stare at something I could not see. When she spoke again, her tone had changed. You should know that the proper way to address me is by calling me Queen and know that I once ruled a people called the Jinn. With your help, I can be that person once again. Everything you need to know has been left in your mind, ready to be used when needed. When you are well again, more will be made clear. Until then, rest and recover. I will always be close by.

Nothing was making any sense. The nurse was a Queen, and she made it seem that I wasn’t who I thought I was. It all had to be a crazy dream. That was my last thought as I drifted back to sleep.

Later that morning, Doctor Harris’s voice woke me up. He was not in my room, so had to be close by. Turning to my side, I saw that the door to the room was shut, but that didn’t seem to hinder my ability to clearly hear a discussion regarding my treatment.

You explain it to me, Charlie, Doctor Harris was asking. How is he able to heal so quickly? You’re the surgeon and I’m just an ER doc. Look at all of his scans starting from the time he was brought in.

I saw the scans when I prepped him for surgery, and I’m just as perplexed as you are, Charlie Price responded. Hope your next suggestion will not be that Daryl Felton has some unusual genetic component. I’ve known the man for twenty years. There has never been an inkling that he was any different than anybody else.

Damn it, Charlie, all I want is for the man to heal and get back on his feet. I just never thought it would happen so soon or at all, if you know what I mean.

Yeah, calling his death prematurely was kind of upsetting...

No, you don’t get it. He was clinically dead. No heart rhythm, no breath sounds, nothing. Nada. Zilch. And then he was alive and speaking coherently, using complete sentences with no slurring. The only one to witness his rising from the dead was the nurse we got from the service. She seemed to be as amazed as I was. It still doesn’t explain the rapid healing of almost twenty broken bones in that man’s body. And I’m not even addressing the lung and tissue damage.

Why does it seem you would rather he not heal at all or so slowly that you’d have no trouble seeing his progress? What is it you truly want here, Doctor Harris?

An explanation, I guess. There’s enough mystery in healing. I rarely get to see my patients recover once they leave the ER. Sorry to shit all over you, Charlie. I guess I just needed to vent.

Not a problem, Tom. Text me if you come up with a solution. Maybe I’ll find something when I examine him.

The voices died off. Then I heard squeaky shoes on the tiles coming towards my room. All my heightened senses were making me wonder if it was the accident that caused the change to my hearing or whatever Queen had been feeding me. My thoughts vanished as the surgeon opened the door to my room.

Hello Mister Felton. You probably don’t remember me...

Charlie Price, head of surgery for the hospital. Don’t go formal on me now, Doc.

Nothing wrong with your memory, Daryl, except that you were really doped up when I saw you in the OR. Have you been peeking at your chart? 

I wish I could. It’s stashed away at the nurse’s station. I’d have a little difficulty getting over there on my own, I joked while pointing to my casts. No, it’s just that since the accident, I seem to be able to hear conversations that I’m not supposed to hear. Maybe, like Doc Harris says, I’m different because of the accident.  

Well, that would explain a lot, I suppose, except that there was never anything exceptional about you when you were in here years ago with a bad appendix or needing some cysts removed. I think I would have noticed something that unusual.

Maybe it’s just good genes. It might help if I knew who my birth parents were. Maybe I got my good hearing from them.

Glad your sense of humor is still working. Look here, there is a push on at the top of this organization to get you transferred to a rehab facility as soon as you can stand on your own two feet. I’ll leave it up to you how soon that happens. I don’t care how fast your bones are knitting, I’ll stall the suits until you and I can reach a decision on a timetable. Can we agree on that?

"Sure but try to get Doctor Harris to lighten up. He has taken