This is the story of how I snuck into Area 51 and rescued a raccoon. Also, I saw aliens; a lot of dead ones, and a live one imprisoned behind a glass wall. It was definitely a he, if you know what I mean.
And then I saw the raccoon. You may be wondering why a raccoon was in Area 51. I have no idea. But the unfortunate thing was in a cage, and I figured I’d better save it. To my surprise, the little fella was very friendly and seemed very thankful for his rescue. I named him Friar. It’s just the first thing that popped into my head, okay.
We’ll get to the rest of his story in a little bit, but first I need to tell you why I decided to sneak into Area 51. It wasn’t my idea and I didn’t want to do it. I’m generally a law-abiding citizen, except for the occasional drug purchase. But I couldn’t leave Dave to go in alone. He’s a good friend. Platonic, loyal, funny (and married, so keep those thoughts to yourself.) You see, he used to work there. A few years back he got in trouble. He was fined and fired for divulging classified information. He told his wife aliens are real. His house was bugged. I won’t get into that.
Anyway, he got fired for it. This was a few years before the government admitted aliens are real, so he wanted to sneak back in and take what, in his opinion, was owed to him. Proof of other classified information was the mission. His plan was to sell their secrets.
I never really cared about Area 51. I knew it existed. Everybody knows it exists. But after I met Dave, he told me story after story, and I got intrigued to the point of obsession. I read books about the place. I found some crazy, maybe-false-maybe-true stories on Reddit. To my surprise, a lot of those stories were similar despite coming from different people. I know it could have been the same person using different usernames. But I don’t think so.
Anyway, back to sneaking in. Area 51 is notoriously impossible to sneak into. It sits in the middle of the Nevada desert far from civilization. To get there you drive. To sneak in you hike. And it’s pitch-black dark at night, which is when you must go. (I’m not going to tell you how we got in because you might try it yourself and end up in a world of trouble. I was with a professional. Sorry to disappoint.)
The second we got inside the main underground building; I spotted Friar and gasped.
“Why the fuck is a raccoon down here in a cage?”
Dave glanced over.
“They might be using him for an experiment. I don’t know.”
Then he shrugged and made his way toward a highly organized office with at least twenty tan, metal filing cabinets. The kind popular in the 90’s. I left him to it and went back to Friar. He appeared healthy but stressed. He paced back and forth and reached his little hands through the bars. He had no bedding, just a cold cement floor to sleep on. His water bowl was dry.
Dave pointed toward some wire cutters and returned to his files. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I opened the cage. I figured he might run for his life. Instead, he walked toward me, stood on his hind legs, and pressed his paws together as if in prayer. This made me second-guess the rescue. Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he’d been experimented on. I asked Dave. He barely looked up from the papers.
“Nah. Some jackass probably wanted a pet. He’s young. Looks like he was stolen from his family.”
Reassured, I scooped him up and tucked him inside my jacket where he immediately curled up and grabbed my hoodie with his little digits. Simple as that.
Then I joined Dave in the office. I stood watch while he frantically opened drawer after drawer and tossed papers around like he had a warrant. Meanwhile, I was completely engrossed in Friar. I peered into my jacket and found him staring up at me with what looked like hope in his eyes. No idea if that’s normal raccoon behavior, but I didn’t care. You wouldn’t either if you saw him. As I admired my little guy, I heard voices and quick footsteps coming down a hallway.
“Shit! Dave! Someone’s coming! Multiple someone’s!”
Dave ran over, took one look, and whispered, “Shit.”
We started running. I don’t know where. I just followed Dave and tried to make the ride as smooth as possible for Friar. Before I knew it, we were back outside in the pitch-black desert heading toward our entry point.
“Haha! I fucking did it! We did it!” Dave shouted.
“All I did was follow you and rescue a raccoon.”
“Important work,” Dave assured me.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“Shit you’re not gonna believe it. But you will because I have proof now.”
“Cool. Cool.”
We stopped at a twenty-four-hour gas station because I wasn’t about to bring Friar home empty-handed. I grabbed bottled water, dog food, beef jerky, and peanut butter. Dave stood next to the Slurpee machine practically vibrating.
“You have no idea what I found.”
“Mmm,” I replied as I googled what raccoons can eat.
“Seriously.”
“Well, tell me.”
“I found proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“The moon.”
“What about it?”
“It isn’t—”
“Did you know raccoons can eat marshmallows?”
Dave stared at me.
“Did you hear me? THE MOON!”
Friar reached one tiny hand from my jacket toward a package of powdered donuts.
“Oh, good idea, Friar.”
“Never mind,” Dave said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. We’re exhausted.”
The adrenaline was wearing off and we were all crashing, including Friar. When I finally got home, I made him a bed out of an old sweatshirt and my softest blanket. He sniffed it, plopped down, and rolled onto his back. That’s when I noticed the collar. It was hidden beneath all his thick fur and was so tight I felt awful for not seeing it sooner.
“Poor guy.”
After wrestling with the clasp for a few seconds, I got it off and examined it. It was made from some sort of metallic material I’d never seen before. I noticed a lump by the clasp and saw a flash drive embedded in the collar.
“What the hell?”
I turned it over in my hands and began prying the flash drive out.
“Why would they put this on you?”
Friar looked up from his blanket holding a marshmallow. I plugged the flash drive into my laptop. File after file began loading. I looked over at Friar. Then back at the screen. My jaw dropped. I read a folder labeled SATURN MOON COLONIES. Below it were 146 subfolders. One for each moon. More subfolders revealed several species, including Homo neaderthalensis, Denisovans, Homo floresiensis, Homo luzonensis, and Homo sapiens.
Friar curled up beside me on the couch and held onto my sweater with his little paws. With my mind spinning, I decided to take a break and have Dave look at the files tomorrow. I couldn’t absorb anymore information. I turned on the television. Some documentary about ancient human civilizations flashed on the screen. I fell asleep almost immediately.
When I woke up, sunlight filled the room. Friar was sitting in front of the window facing the sun, his paws pressed together again as if in prayer and I heard someone pounding on the door.
“You have no idea what you’ve done!”