“With my eyes closed.”
“Nooo, you keep those bad boys open,” she replied, staring straight ahead. “I’m pretty sure the road is getting narrower, by the way.”
“Look out your window and tell me how close we are to the edge.”
“Fuck you, Luke. Fuck you, and your little red wagon.”
He smiled and looked over at her. “I don’t have a little red wagon, but I wouldn’t hesitate to buy one for the occasion.”
“Watch the road!”
“I am. You should look though. The tops of the trees look like a carpet from here.”
“I’ll take your word for it. In the brochure they probably should have said to park at the bottom and ride billy goats up.”
“It is an alien museum. They might actually have mutant billy goats that can carry a grown man. Or maybe they have a transporter.”
“I don’t know,” she mused. “If we use their transporter, we might have to tack our two-dollar diner savings back onto our entry fee.”
“What’s the entry fee?”
“Five dollars. Three with the discount.”
“Each?” He whistled. “I should have dressed better.”
“Maybe they’ll have a sports jacket you can borrow. The next time I pick a side trip, remind me to look the route up on my GPS first.”
“Why? We’re perfectly safe. It’s beautiful, if you’ll look.”
“I will on the way back down when I’m not the one right next to the drop-off. Those guard wires don’t look very trustworthy.”
The plateau at the top of the mountain made Ophelia groan with relief. An old house and barn were planted in the middle of the broad clearing, and an old pickup was parked in front of the hand-painted sign proclaiming the museum was open from 11AM-3PM, THURS-SAT, and that the gift shop sold vials of REAL ALIEN DNA! for five dollars.
Luke helped Ophelia out of the SUV, pleased she’d already gotten into the habit of waiting for him to do so. When he closed her door and turned back toward the museum she slid her hand into his, but glanced shyly away as soon as their gazes met.
The front door loudly protested, then released a man with wild white hair and an equally impressive beard. He wore a torn and grease-stained red T-shirt with the museum name and logo emblazoned across the front.
“Welcome to Mitchell’s Museum of Alien Contact!” he said, sounding like a barker at a sideshow.
“You’re Mitchell?” Luke guessed. The name didn’t seem to go with the strong German accent. He extended his hand and the man shook it warmly.
“No, no. My name is Georg Vogl.” He grinned, showing even white teeth that made him seem younger than Luke would have guessed initially.
“Pleased to meet you, Georg. I’m Luke, and this is Ophelia.”
“Ophelia! Beautiful name your wife has. Welcome! Come in!”
Luke waited for Ophelia to object to being called his wife, but the older man had already made his way back into the house.
She shrugged. “From the looks of things we’ll be here twenty minutes, tops.”
“Whatever you say, little missus.”
She smacked his arm, and he pulled her close.
“Do that again. I dare you.”
When she bit her plump bottom lip and stared up at him hopefully he almost groaned.