“Look, there has to be a mistake, I have always given you the best information, your superiors will be very angry that I am being treated like this.”
“To start with, Mr. Reese, let me introduce myself. My name is not Tallman, it’s Colonel Henri Farbeaux. Does this name ring a bell as you Americans say?”
The very moment the man mentioned his name, a slow, crawling coldness came to Reese and he literally felt the blood drain from his face.
The Frenchman smiled and patted Reese’s right leg, then held his fingers up and rubbed them together, feeling the wetness. He smiled and gently rubbed them on his captive’s shirt.
“To start the morning’s festivities, Mr. Reese, tell me of this incident of yesterday in more detail than you did last night.” Farbeaux paused a moment to light a cigarette, then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “I understand from New York that Director Compton has declared an Event scenario. Would this have anything to do with his missing men back in ′47, perhaps? But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; let’s start with this flying saucer, shall we?” Farbeaux asked, knowing that Hendrix had been alerted that the Black Team he had sent here was missing and had undoubtedly ordered another in. Farbeaux knew his time was short.
“Centaurus would never approve of you hurting me,” Reese said hurriedly.
Farbeaux smiled. “Robert, I think we’ll leave the company out of this one. I’m keeping the information you give me for selfish purposes. Besides, my friend, they have already ordered your termination by others; you’re a danger to them now. Your only chance is to convince me of your value. Your reward will not be money, but your very existence. Surely worth the truth, is it not?”
Farbeaux once again patted Reese’s leg, then reached out and brought up an unseen leather case and unzipped it. Inside, gleaming in the dim lighting, was a syringe. This he quickly and expertly plunged into a small vial, then he held the needle up and lightly pressed the plunger. A small, thin stream of amber liquid shot into the air.
“Let’s begin, shall we?”
ELEVEN
Superstition Mountains, Arizona
0700 Hours
Gus was astounded at the scene before him. Scattered from one end of the high rocky valley to the other was what looked like the remains of a plane, a large plane. Material resembling tinfoil was spread in clumps and patterns that suggested it had hit pretty hard and dispersed over the wide area encompassing the valley. He slowly made his way down a small incline, over some large rocks, and entered the valley he had visited a hundred times before. He didn’t notice it right off, but the feelings of being alone and afraid had ceased as soon as he’d gained a foothold on the rock-and debris-strewn soil. A slight breeze ruffled some of the metal and produced whispered whistles that seemed to penetrate to the core of the old man’s being. The area reminded him of a ghost town, only this wasn’t one made up of buildings and streets, but of wreckage on a mountain reputed to be haunted.
“Hello!” he called out into the valley.
Two pairs of eyes watched as Gus stood and waited for an answer. The large eyes of the small visitor were blinking rapidly in terror at the approach of the man. The other, smaller pair of eyes watched malevolently. They never left the man as he examined the wreckage. It growled deep in its throat. The small clear yellowish claws scraped the rock it leaned against.
Gus stepped farther into the debris field and carefully nudged a piece of the twisted metal with the toe of his boot It was maybe five feet by four feet and seemed extremely light. He bent over and ran a finger over the surface of the bright silvery material. It was cool to the touch despite the rising sun’s reflecting off it. As Gus curled his fingers around it and lifted, he expected one end to come up, but when the entire piece lifted off the ground, he was so surprised he dropped it again. It seemed to float down and landed softly on top of his right boot. He jerked his foot out from under with a small yelp escaping his lips. He then nervously looked at some of the other bright pieces of material around him, and that was when he noticed that hardly any of the objects had escaped the violent crash unscathed.
Toward the center of the crash area and strewn among the debris were several large container-like bins that looked somewhat intact. Most had small bottles on top of them that looked like oxygen cylinders. The old prospector walked to the nearest one for a closer inspection. The box or container or whatever it was stood a little over three feet in height and was oblong with a length of five feet or so. The front panel, or what Gus thought might be the front, was made of a clear material resembling Plexiglas. He peered through it as if he were looking through a window, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the rising sun. When his hand came in contact with the clear panel, it warped and turned to a gel-like substance that first wobbled, then fell as water to the sands below. At the moment the substance fell, Gus felt a small electrical discharge strike his hand where it had touched the gel panel. He quickly stepped back, immediately disgusted with what he had touched. That was when he saw lying in the middle of the casing another viscous material that stank to holy heaven. It covered the entire bottom of the container and was murky and brownish. It was still bubbling around what looked like the remains of small bones and a little bit of fur floating on top. Gus looked from it to the small canister-like tanks on the top. There were three total, and one was still dripping a blue liquid into the mess that lined the floor. It looked as though whatever had been in there had been killed by the stuff in the small cylinders.
The old man shook his head, knowing he was guessing at things he knew nothing about. What in the hell happened in this place? The breeze picked up again, and along with cooling his skin, the wind brought the smell of something else as Gus sniffed and looked around. His eyes settled on a rather large piece of debris that was leaning against a huge boulder about thirty feet to his front. Stepping farther into the valley, a funny and almost scary thought crossed his mind and occurred over and over. There had to have been people piloting this… this whatever it was. If it wasn’t automatically piloted, that meant a crew. If some had survived, just how in hell would he get them out of here and back down the mountain? Buck was missing, and even if he weren’t, he was far too old to carry anyone all the way to town. He looked around at the scattered wreckage, doubly worried now.
He quickened his pace and walked right up to the piece of metal that was leaning against the rock. He hesitated a moment with his hand poised on the upper half of the panel. Gus figured he would check this out, then get the hell out of here and find Buck and go to the cabin and drink for about a week. He lightly touched the strange metal, running his fingers over what looked like hieroglyphs etched on the surface. The memory was vague, but he had seen something like them once in the museum up in Denver. He had taken a whole paycheck one month, splurged, and caught some culture for the first time in years. He went to the movies, saw a film about wars in space or something (stupid was what he thought), then he went to see the Egyptian exhibition over at the Museum of Natural History. While there, the tour guide had explained that the name of the writing that had been found on things in Egypt was called hieroglyphs. He believed that was what he was looking at right now. They were a metallic pink and violet in color and were engraved deeply into the metal about a quarter of an inch. He ran a finger over the engravings and received a strange electrical charge through his entire hand to his elbow. The feeling was familiar and somehow comforting.
Suddenly, the metal fell over toward him and he had to step back quickly to keep from getting hit by the sharp edges on the piece of wreckage. When what was on the other side was revealed, his eyes widened in shock. Still strapped into some sort of reclining seat was what looked like a person, but from what he could see, it was small and skeleton-thin. Gus swallowed and looked closer. The body looked half-crushed and had been gashed all over. He realized it was without clothes. It was light green with darker, grayish green highlights, and it was possibly bloated in death. The old man realized he w
asn’t looking at anything that would pilot an airplane that he knew of. He swallowed and stepped backward, his eyes never leaving the small body that had died strapped to its seat.
While in Korea, his squad had come across an American F-84 Sabre jet that had crashed not far from their position. They had assumed the pilot had escaped, parachuting to safety. But when they investigated what was left of the aircraft, they saw what appeared to be the body of the pilot still strapped tightly to his seat. He had been as mangled and crushed as the being Gus was now staring at.
One side of its face had been caved in on impact, so Gus couldn’t get a good idea of what the person, or thing, looked like. He did see that the being was without one strand of hair on its head. The small hands had three long fingers and a thumb. The thumb was almost as long as the digits it was curled up beside. There were no visible fingernails. Its one visible eye was large and the pupil was black as coal. Gus had to turn away as he saw his own aged reflection in the dust-covered eye.
He swallowed and was just starting to turn away when his foot slipped into a hole in the ground. He dropped down, catching himself at the last moment, desperately clawing at the sides of a large boulder to keep from falling into the gaping hole. Gus quickly scrabbled away and gained his balance. When he looked back into the hole that had nearly swallowed him, the old man saw a gaping maw that resembled a mouth. As he watched, rocks and dirt were still trickling into the hole from his close call. As his breathing finally calmed, he noticed the edges of the dark pit were smooth all around, as if the sides had been carefully excavated and not torn. It was as if a plug had been pulled from the compacted earth. Gus reached down and ran his fingers around its opening. It was not only smooth to the touch but was coated with a shiny substance that was still somewhat damp. He quickly pulled his hand away from the strangeness of the hole and rubbed his fingers together, finding them sticky. It also gave off a sweet odor, like a just-peeled banana.
The old prospector was close to panic. He found himself backing away, and then he remembered what was waiting behind him. The mangled body would be lying there strapped into its seat. He stopped and stood as straight as he could, then he took first one step, then two, then suddenly found himself walking faster.
Gus was almost to the spot where he had entered the valley when he fell to his knees holding his head. The immense and overwhelming feeling of fear and confusion were sounding again; this time jabbering accompanied the feelings. It was even more desperate than it had been before. Suddenly the old man realized something as he removed his hands from his head. The sound wasn’t coming from his own head as it had been earlier; no blood was trickling from either his nose or his ears. The sound was coming from somewhere behind him in the valley. As he listened, the confusing sounds echoed off the rock walls and bounced around. What was more confusing, Gus had the horrible feeling that the sounds would attract something he didn’t want to see.
Gus turned and crept slowly in the direction of the cries. He carefully stepped around some of the metal debris as he crept closer to the noise. He bent over, shakily placing his hands on his knees to get a closer look at the bottom of a huge rock. He at first thought the sound might have been coming from inside the piece of granite, then realized this was ridiculous. That was when he saw it was coming from beneath the huge boulder. He noticed movement at the base of the rock as the soft jabbering suddenly stopped. He went to one knee as he felt something akin to relief mixed with horror flash into his mind.
Gus tilted his head and looked farther into the hole, trying desperately to penetrate the blackness. He moved his head closer, fear filling his mind. God, this thing must be terrified even more than me! A feeling of dread washed over him like a small wave, making him hesitant, and he tensed a little, but the feeling lasted only a second. Inside, he still sensed danger and pure animal terror, just as a deer might feel at the sight of a pair of headlights. As he looked into the coal blackness of the hole, he thought he saw two small pools of darkened water. Then they disappeared. Confusion clogged his mind as he tried to figure out what he was seeing in the dark. Then it struck him with the suddenness of a lightning bolt, as the twin pools reappeared: he was looking into the eyes of something that had come down with this thing, and its eyes had just blinked at him.
“Hey,” he said softly, “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”
The thing blinked and continued to talk in the strange jabber Gus didn’t understand.
“You hurt?”
As soon as he asked, he knew without a doubt, that, yes, the thing in the hole was indeed injured.
“You wanna get the hell out of there?” he asked, not really knowing what to call it, or even if he was being understood. “Hope ya understand my lingo, boy.”
Gus suddenly straightened and looked around him. His eyes settled on the hole at the other end of the valley, the one he had almost stumbled into. Now it wasn’t confusion, but terror that struck his mind. The dark void of that hole that was coming toward him, freezing him with the horror he sensed was there. Then his eyes quickly traveled to the rocks above him. He felt as if he was being watched. He had had that feeling a hundred times on a hundred different nights in Korea, and this was no different. He thought that whatever eyes watched him meant him harm. Again his eyes roamed to the large hole. That was a different fear from what he was now feeling. The hairs on the back of his neck were still at attention, so he shook his head to try to dislodge the confusion he felt because of the hole in the ground and whatever was up in the rocks.
He turned back to the creature still cowering underneath the boulder.
“Well, come on, let’s getcha outta there,” he said nervously, looking back at the hole a distance away, half expecting something to come charging out of it. When he turned back, his eyes widened in shock. There, with long fingers shaking and extended outward, was a hand. The slender fingers were light green, like the first mangled being he had found in the wreckage. A darker smear of liquid was on one of the extended fingers, and as Gus watched, a small drop of fluid fell from the digit and hit the sandy dirt around the hole and soaked in. Then his eyes went back to the hand, and without realizing it, he reached out and grasped it. He felt the shivering of the owner and relaxed his grip. He reached deep into the hole with his free hand and found what he hoped was purchase under the unseen being’s other arm. Gus pulled gently at first, then harder as he realized the little body was wedged under the boulder like a cork in a bottle. As he pulled, he felt the creature shift and start to help. A long minute later he was done. As the strange being came to rest after Gus had released it, it immediately started looking around at its surroundings, its large eyes blinking rapidly in the brighter world outside the shade of the boulder. The old man sat hard on his butt and stared in amazement and wonder at what he had pulled from the rock.
The creature, after surveying the crash site, slowly lay down on its back and began gazing up at the blue sky with eyes the color of obsidian. The almond-shaped orbs again blinked, and the eyelids, to Gus’s amazement, slid not down from the top but from the outer sides of the eyes. Then the small creature looked over at its rescuer, clearly in pain. The head was big, shaped like a lightbulb. Not a hair was to be found on its light green skin. Dark green blood was covering most of the boy-sized body. Some had dried, and more was still flowing, albeit slowly from several small wounds. The creature slowly moved its hand away from its body and held it out toward the sky. The small, long fingers reached almost longingly toward the heavens, before falling back into the dirt at its side.
Gus looked up at the sky and then down at the slowly closing deepness of the being’s eyes. The strange eyelids closed from the sides again, enveloping the eyes from the temples toward its small nose.
“I don’t think I can get ya back to Mars or nothin’ like that. Hell, boy, couldn’t even get you to Phoenix, but maybe I can fix you up a little and get you to someone who knows just what to do with ya. And if you have a friend up there in them rocks, I don’t belie
ve I care to meet him.”
As Gus looked on, the eyes opened and the small mouth and thin lips tightened in either pain or anger, the old man couldn’t tell. Then the large eyes roamed to the rocks above them for a moment as if it knew what Gus had said before. Then it turned back to Gus, and the thing’s right hand came up and clenched around Gus’s blue denim collar and squeezed, the eyes closing with pain at the effort. Then the grip loosened and the hand fell away. The eyes half closed and the small being shuddered.
The prospector reached down and took the small, broken body of the survivor in his arms. It weighed almost nothing as he lifted its small frame against his chest. The head rocked back with pain, then lay against the old man’s dirty shirt. He only hoped his wildly beating heart didn’t pound the poor thing to death.
Gus knew the injured being had passed out because the small body had lost its tenseness. He looked down into the now serene face. The features were soft, the mouth relaxed. He saw the small nose, no more than a bump with two little holes he thought were its nostrils. They were moving, so he assumed the creature was still breathing.
Gus shook his head and started toward the far end of the valley where he had entered. He steered a wide path around the large, ominous hole in the ground he had almost fallen into earlier. As he passed it, he didn’t notice the small thing in his arms clench its fist in an unconscious gesture of fear. But the man did feel the terror engulf his own mind as he struggled out of the valley, leaving the mysteries of the crash site behind. But the image of that large hole and the feeling of being watched from the rocks remained, and the two memories pushed Gus forward as if Satan himself were on his tail.
Event: A Novel Page 16