“He’s here.” 

 

Brigadier General Dumfree’s voice was deep and commanding; people moved to their assigned locations.

 

Claire Dumfree was a rare breed.  She served as a nurse in the U.S. Army during World War II - having mobilized to France toward the end of the war.  Upon her return home, she was among some of the first women to attend Harvard Medical School, earning her right to be called “Doctor.”  While attending Harvard, she attended lectures of which were not part of her medical doctor curriculum.  

 

Claire had a curious mind; anthropology, biology, and engineering to name a few.  And she had a unique way of weaving everything that she learned into a system of cause and effect across the spectrum of humanity; Claire could plot out and predict the most likely outcome of a situation with an otherworldly clairvoyance.  And when she discussed anything in an academic setting, people took notice.  

 

After finishing her medical degree, Claire had planned on returning to serve her country in one capacity or another - perhaps returning to the U.S. Army Medical Corps as a general surgeon.  

 

Fate is funny.  

 

One day a U.S. Air Force recruiter visited Harvard; always curious, Claire approached the recruiter.  The Air Force was still in its infancy; only becoming an independent service in 1947.  And now, five years later the service was desperate to bolster its ranks.  Not only with men, but women too; educated women.  Claire was a perfect candidate.

 

It wasn’t long until Claire was integrated into the Air Force; she was in uniform once again.  Her service in the Army during World War II and now with an MD from an Ivy League institution, the Air Force treated her well; Claire was commissioned as a Major in the Air Force’s medical corps.  

 

After a few weeks of orientation into the Air Force’s customs, courteously, and operational intricacies, Major Dumfree was given orders for her first assignment - a new base in the Nevada Desert called “Paradise Ranch.”

 

Traveling west via train, she wondered what her Air Force life would look like.  Her final stop was Las Vegas.  Upon disembarking from the train, a man in a black suit stood beside a black car holding a sign:  “Major Dumfree.”

 

The man said nothing.  He opened the rear driver's side door and with a wave of the hand, signaled for the Major to get in.

 

As the two drove away together she attempted to speak to the man.  The man cut her off “Ma’am we have a bit of a drive.  I suggest you rest your mind and your thoughts - your world is about to become much bigger.”

 

The man was right, and now a decade later, now Brigadier General Dumfree, was spearheading the most secretive and most unbelievable operation ever undertaken by not only the United States Government, but in all of humanity.  

 

__________________________________

 

“I want him in the recliner.  I want his vitals and I want Jacob, and I want Chief Cavestone in here now.” 

 

President Kennedy was drowsy from the trip; two men walked beside him - guiding him to a leather recliner in the corner of a dimly-lit room.  The room had no windows; shag carpeting, wood paneling on the walls, and a plaid couch.  There was a small coffee table; a pack of cigarettes, matchbook, and ashtray were the only thing on it.

 

Brigadier General Dumfree sat on the couch beside President Kennedy and gave him a concerning glance.

 

“Where a, what’s a, where’s a Jackie?” President Kennedy was slowly regaining consciousness and aligning his thoughts.

 

“Mr. President, my name is Brigadier General Claire Dumfree.  There are things that you’re about to hear - and see - that will have you questioning the reality in which you live - or lived - before today.

 

The door to the little room opened as Brigadier General Dumfree finished her statement; she and the President both turned their eyes on the door.

 

A man walked through.  He was dressed in Native American clothing, with a dash of modern flare; He wore a bowler hat and carried a cane.  He was lean, but his presence was commanding.

 

A shorter man followed behind closely.  This man was cloaked in a robe; hood over his head.  While his feet were covered by the robe, his hands were not - they were a pale grey and a bit wrinkly.  The two men came to stand side-by-side, in front of President Kennedy.

 

Brigadier General Dumfree began the introductions, “Mr. President, I’d like to introduce you to Chief Cavestone of the Cherokee Nation in Exile.”  

 

As the general continued, the smaller man standing beside Chief Cavestone began to remove his hood and look up at the President.  The President recoiled slightly.  

 

“And Mr. President, this is Jacob.  He is currently a guest of the United States Government; a friend."

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. President, but don’t let Claire fool you - ‘guest’ is a relative term.”

 

Chief Cavestone followed-up Jacob’s comment immediately, “I’d have to agree with my friend Jacob here Mr. President.”

 

President Kennedy was speechless; he thought he may be dreaming.  Last he could recall he was sitting beside Jackie as they road through Dealey Plaza in Dallas.  

 

The Chief and Jacob moved and sat beside Brigadier General Dumfree on the couch.  

 

Some more men entered the room; they brought binders, rolled in a tv on a cart.  They also brought in some food, and what looked like medical supplies.  

 

What followed was three hours of the Brigadier General, Chief Cavestone, and Jacob brining President Kennedy up-to-date on a highly classified operation that sought to ensure the continuity of the United States Government - of the United States of America - through any threat that ever presented itself; America would survive any threat, whether it be domestic, international, nuclear, biological, or extraterrestrial. 

 

The program was so secretive, only a handful deep within the military industrial complex knew about it; not a single member of congress knew.  The mission that President Kennedy was now privy too was so secretive, that it didn’t even have a name; it did have funding however.  Funding that was cleverly diverted by a "less-secret" - but still secret - program run by the Central Intelligence Agency, code named “MK Ultra.”

 

When the talking stopped, President Kennedy sat back in his chair - still wondering if this was a dream or not.  He came to the conclusion that it wasn’t.  President Kennedy looked directly at Brigadier General Dumfree, then made eye contact with Chief Cavestone and Jacob as he attempted to summarize all the information that was given to him over the last few hours.

 

“So a, let me a, try to a summarize things.  I’m currently in a room a, in a vast underground system of caves that goes from Appalachia all the way to New England, that a is a administered by Chief a Cavestone here of the Cherokee Nation in Exile, and a is guarded by a society of creatures a colloquially referred to by the term a ‘Bigfoot.’  And these creatures have an alliance with the Cherokees that goes back some, a four hundred a years, and a we a found out when we a started a lookin’ for underground areas to a build our command and a control bunkers cuz’ the reds put missiles in Cuba.  And Jacob here crash landed out a west a bunch of a years ago, and a we’ve been a pokin’ and a proddin’ him for information on some ‘gate’ and experimenting with his a, blood, and a DNA.  And we decided to a use a, his technology to a create what you a called a ‘hologram’ to a fake my a, assassination, so that I may a help Chief Cavestone ensure that this underground city is ready to receive our country’s refugees, when a something a big happens?”

 

Brigadier General Dumfree responded, “you are correct Mr. President.”

 

“So a up there” the President pointed to the ceiling, “the a world thinks that the President of the United States of America is dead; my a wife Jackie a thinks I’m dead, my a kids think I am dead?

 

Brigadier General Dumfree leaned in closer to the President, “Mr President, your family will join you here someday.  The world will see you again someday.  The misdirection that has been engineered by this operation ensures that the operation is successful.”

 

President Kennedy responded “But a why me?”

 

Brigadier General Dumfree began to speak, but was quickly cut off by Jacob.

 

“Mr. President, I’ve been held by your government against my will for almost two decades.  But that is but the blink of an eye for me and my type.  I - my beings - have seen civilized society all across the universe endure or crumble based on one thing, and one thing only - leadership; leadership that inspires, leadership that paves a path toward salvation.  You are that leader Mr. President.”

 

President Kennedy looked at Jacob, “you’re a one good talkin’ alien Mr. Jacob.  I need to a think on this a and maybe Chief Cavestone, you a give me a tour of what we a got goin’ on down here a and let me a meet these a ‘Bigfeet’ that you speak of.”

 

The President stood, and so did Brigadier General, Chief Cavestone, and Jacob.  

 

“You a said I’d see my family a someday - I’d like some more an information on when, and how please.”

 

President Kennedy looked at Brigadier General Dumfree, “Absolutely Mr. President, but I think you’ll put the pieces together with what we need to do right now, before you and Chief Cavestone head out.” The Brigadier General spoke.

 

Just then a man walked in.  He pulled a needle from a bag.  The needle clearly had some substance in.  

 

“Mr. President, you’re about to be injected with a compound that has been synthesized with the help of Jacob’s blood.  It will - essentially stop your natural aging process for some time.  When the time is right, Jackie and your children will receive it as well.” 

 

Brigadier General Dumfree continued as the man rolled up the sleeve of the President’s left arm.

 

“And we’re also going to be permanently implanting a small filter deep in your nasal passage.  While its taken the Cherokee generations to adapt to, we are not so lucky, anyone who has not been exposed to the Bigfoot population immediately succumbs to their sulphuric odor.  This will allow you to move about our underground world - amongst them - without passing out.”

 

With a poke in the arm and then via a tube shoved up his nose to place the implant, President Kennedy was now just about immortal, and he could now meet his new allies - the ‘Bigfeets.”

 

President Kennedy looked at Jacob, “I assume all of this is because you came here and let us learn about you and your technology - thank you.”

 

Jacob responded “HOLY SHIT, Mr. President, I didn’t ‘let’ you humans do anything.”

 

President Kennedy replied.  “I understand, and I still believe that a the ‘thank you’ is warranted.”

 

President Kennedy began walking toward the door.  

 

“I’m an assuming that this is the way.” The President looked back at the group.

 

“Yes, Mr. President.” Brigadier General Dumfree replied.  

 

As President Kennedy opened the door, he stopped and turned around to face Brigadier General Dumfree, Chief Cavestone, Jacob, and the man that had just administered his shot and implant.

 

“The more a, I think a on this situation, I’m a dissecting the complexities associated with this operation.  I know why a I’m here - I’m a ‘symbol of Americana’ of sorts for everyone down here.  But I’m - we’re - a gonna need some a help.  We’re gonna need an a ‘organizer’ of sorts.  I know that a my brother Bobby has had his run-ins with him, but Hoffa is an ‘organizer.’  We don’t need him right now, but we will, so a lets a get things in a motion to a get him part of this thing.  And I understand that my family can wait - a needs to a wait - but I need Bobby.  Not right now but a, I need a Bobby soon.”

 

“Absolutely President Kennedy, we’ll begin to set things in motion for Bobby, Hoffa, and - eventually - Jackie and the kids to join us down here.”