by Gerri Hill
“Colonel Sutter,” she said in greeting. “Captain Conaway reporting, as ordered by General Brinkley, sir.”
He returned her salute quickly. “Have a seat, Captain. This is Lieutenant Duncan. He’ll be handling the briefing.”
“General Brinkley said you would have gear for me. And maps,” she said, addressing Duncan. “I’m not really familiar with the area. I understand I’m to get dropped off this afternoon.”
Sutter stared at her. “You look out of shape, Conaway. Can you still haul a fifty-pound pack? That’ll be quite a hike for you.”
“I can manage, sir.”
Sutter leaned forward, bringing a smile to his face. “You seem a little…hostile, Conaway. I’d hoped your sessions with the shrink would have helped. Yet I sense you still have anger issues.”
She surprised him by matching his fake smile with one of her own. “I promised Harry I wouldn’t shoot you, so I’m trying to play nice…sir.”
Her casual use of General Brinkley’s first name spoke volumes to him. He leaned back, acknowledging she’d made her point with a slight nod. “Duncan, why don’t you take Captain Conaway to your office for the briefing. Shouldn’t take long. Then get her the hell out to the zone.”
“Of course, sir.”
Duncan stood and Conaway did the same. This time, her smile was a bit condescending as she saluted him. He let out a frustrated sigh as the door closed behind them.
“Arrogant bitch,” he muttered.
Something about Conaway had always irritated him. He hated to admit it, but she was too perfect a soldier, too competent. She did her job with little regard for the politics of the military, as if she couldn’t care less about rank. But he didn’t work his ass off to get where he was only to have some underling think she was above saluting him. Respect was respect whether you liked it or not.
He shook his head slowly. “She actually called him ‘Harry.’” Again he wondered at the extent of their relationship. Brinkley kept his private life private. Sutter knew very little about the man outside of the military. And Conaway? He knew absolutely nothing about her private life. He, like everyone else, assumed she was a lesbian. But she seemed devoted to the military and he knew of no one in her personal life, other than her team. They were a close-knit group, very cohesive. He had to admit, they were the damn best he’d ever had under his command. Elite, in fact.
Of course, “were” being the operative word in this case. And that was the only reason he was letting her slide on her lack of respect for him. The only reason. He didn’t care if she and Harry Brinkley were close or not. He was still her commanding officer.
“Arrogant,” he murmured again.
* * *
“This way, Captain,” Duncan said as he pushed open a door and waved her inside.
“You don’t have to formally address me, Duncan,” she said.
“Of course, ma’am. As you wish.”
She turned to him. “And don’t call me ma’am. You make me feel old.”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
She flashed him a smile. “Lighten up, Duncan. I’m here for a quick briefing, some gear and maps, then I’ll get out of your hair,” she said. “The day is wasting. Besides, Brinkley was pretty thorough in his briefing to me. I would like to see the blip on the radar, though.”
He nodded. “Of course. There’s not much to it, really,” he said as he sat down at his desk and pulled his keyboard closer.
“Were you the one who spotted it?”
“Actually, yes, ma’am, I was.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Habit.” His turned his monitor around for her to see. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
“Wow. Four seconds?”
“Four-point-three, to be exact,” he said, spinning the monitor back around. “We spent hours going over possibilities, thinking perhaps a meteor had missed detection. Nothing showed up on any radar or telescope or any satellite image,” he said.
She stared at him. “The official stance is that it was a meteor,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what people who make more money than me are saying.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I understand you have a theory that goes against the grain.”
He actually blushed before he answered. “Colonel Sutter thinks I’m out of my mind,” he said. “I simply raised the possibility of…well, of something from another world.”
“Do you actually believe in that sort of thing? UFOs?” When he hesitated, she added, “I’m not one to judge, Duncan.”
He shrugged. “Well, I think it’s more probable than not that there are other life-forms in this vast universe of ours. Surely we’re not the only planet or star that has life on it. I mean, it’s mindboggling to think that we’re on this little piece of rock—one of so very many—spinning around in space…and space is infinite. Think of the possibilities.”
“Star Trek fan?”
He blushed again. “Not as rabid as some, but yes,” he said.
“Well, I get where you’re coming from, Duncan. And I agree with you. There’s probably something out there somewhere. But in this case, I can’t see how something from out there,” she said, pointing to the window, “could make it all the way here without being detected. There are satellites all over the damn place. And I’m fairly certain there are a lot of telescopes searching our sky for this very possibility. I don’t think something comes in undetected.”
“To quote a line from a movie, ma’am, ‘it’s a big-ass sky,’” he said.
She laughed quietly. “So you’re convinced the object we’re looking for is indeed a UFO?”
“Not convinced, no. But I don’t think we should dismiss the possibility just because it seems implausible.”
She nodded. “Okay. Since I’m charged with trying to find this alleged meteor, I’ll keep that possibility in mind.” She smiled. “And if I do happen to find a spaceship, what do you propose I do?”
He grinned. “Run like hell, Captain.”
She laughed out loud, noting how good it felt to truly laugh again. “You’re okay, Duncan.”
“Thank you, ma’am. And despite what Colonel Sutter says, I don’t think you’re a hotheaded nutcase.”
She laughed again. “Damn…he said that? He never did like me.” Her smile faded. “The feeling is mutual.”
Chapter Twelve
Hal pulled Daisy to a stop next to Jim Holman. The six members of their little posse lined the edge of the canyon, looking down to the flowing waters of Paradox Creek. They’d been riding on the old Jeep road that followed the south rim of the canyon since that morning. He shifted in the saddle, trying to give his back end some relief. As Jean had said, it’d been a number of years since he’d been on Daisy. They’d gotten a late start Sunday afternoon. So late, in fact, that they’d only ridden an hour before stopping. He’d suggested that they wait until Monday to get started, but they were all packed. It seemed the others were looking forward to a few nights away from their wives. He had to admit, it brought back memories of when he was a boy. They’d had an amicable time talking around the campfire, just the guys. But sleeping on the hard ground the last two nights hadn’t helped his back any. While they’d gotten an early start yesterday after breaking camp, this morning they’d lingered, as if all of them were feeling the effects of sleeping on the ground. And this morning when they’d headed out, he couldn’t help but miss sitting with Jean and having their coffee together. He sure hoped she’d made it through the last couple days okay on her own.
“Should be around here somewhere,” Carl was saying.
Hal shook his head. “You know how this terrain plays tricks on you. That thing could have gone down miles from here.”
“I got a look at the smoke with my binoculars,” Dusty said. “It went down way past the canyon, I tell you. Lived here my whole life, Hal. I know how to read the damn terrain.”
Hal glanced over at Jim. “And suppose we find the helicopter. What the hell are we going to
do then?”
“You’ve done nothing but complain, Hal,” Carl said. “Maybe you should have stayed behind with the womenfolk.”
The others laughed and Hal smiled, not taking offense. “At least I’d have had a decent breakfast these last two mornings. Not to mention coffee.”
Dusty stood up in his saddle, scanning the area past the creek with his binoculars like he’d been doing on and off for the last couple hours. Hal could tell by the sudden straightening of his shoulders that he’d spotted something.
“I think I found it,” Dusty said excitedly. “Hard to be sure, but it’s definitely not a rock outcropping.” He handed the glasses to Carl. “Out past the fork. To the right, about two o’clock.”
“I don’t see a damn thing,” Carl muttered as he moved the binoculars around back and forth.
“No. More to your right. Two o’clock! Not three,” Dusty said, pointing. “See it?”
“I can’t find it.” Carl handed the binoculars to Graham. “Can you?”
Graham, who was the oldest of the bunch at seventy-eight, took the binoculars with shaking hands. Hal watched as he took his glasses off first before bringing the binoculars to his eyes.
“Out past the fork,” Graham repeated quietly to himself. “To the right. Three o’clock.”
“Two o’clock!” Dusty corrected.
Hal waited as Graham scanned the area, going from noon on an imaginary clock all the way to six. Hal finally took the binoculars from him.
“Let me give it a try.”
He found the fork in the creek and then refocused the binoculars for his eyesight, moving them slightly up and to the right. Part of him hoped it was nothing. He was ready to give up on this helicopter chase and head back home to Jean. But he found the pile of rubble and like Dusty said, it was no rock outcropping. He lowered the glasses.
“Dusty’s right. I see it. A good ways past the creek. About five or six hundred yards beyond the fork, I’d reckon. Maybe more.” He handed the binoculars to Jim to let him take a turn. Jim couldn’t find it and handed them over to Curtis.
“Yeah, I can spot it too,” Curtis said. “Let’s go see what we got.”
Hal brought up the rear as they headed down into the canyon one by one, following a wildlife trail to the creek. Conversation was scant on the way down and he assumed they, like him, were just hoping the horses didn’t lose their footing. Daisy slid a couple of times and Hal pulled her up as he held on tight to the saddle. By the time they made it to the creek, his back felt like a tangled mess. It would be a miracle if he could even manage to get off Daisy. He was thankful that Jean had thought to put some of those ibuprofen tablets into his pack.
They stopped at the creek to let the horses drink, and Dusty was again scanning the horizon.
“You can see it pretty good now,” he said. “Definitely a helicopter. Looks in bad shape, though.”
“I imagine a crash and burn would do that,” Carl said.
“How many crew you think that bird had?” Jim asked Carl.
He shrugged. “Two or three, I’d guess. Been a long time since I was in the military, though. Back in the day, it didn’t take a whole crew to fly.”
“Back in the day, we didn’t have computers on everything,” Dusty said with a chuckle.
Hal kept quiet. He figured he was the only one of the six who’d never served. Wasn’t for lack of trying, he reminded himself. Of course, by then he’d already met Jean and the Vietnam War had started. When he was turned down after trying to enlist, he was secretly thankful for his chronic back pain. He’d learned to live with it over the years, and it hadn’t slowed him down much. Well, these last few years, sure. But he was barely hanging on to seventy-five. More things hurt him than not at his age.
“Let’s go see what we can find,” Carl said as he and his horse picked their way across the wide, but shallow creek.
Hal figured his calculations must have been a bit off—it took them much longer to reach the wreckage than he’d imagined. They stopped a good thirty yards from it, all staring at the charred and crushed piece of machinery.
“Don’t see no bodies,” Curtis said quietly.
Carl finally swung his leg off the saddle and dropped to the ground. He put one hand to his lower back as he tried to straighten up. One by one, the others dismounted too. Hal struggled to stand, and he held on to Daisy until his back finally loosened up enough for him to walk.
“Back still bothering you, Hal?” Graham asked.
“Always,” he said. “Ridin’ down that canyon didn’t help matters none.”
He followed the others over to the wreckage. Despite the crash and obvious fire, the aircraft was still pretty much intact. Broken and bent, but still intact.
“You think they could have walked away from this?”
Carl walked closer and pointed. “Got blood over here. It’s not fresh, though.”
“I don’t think anyone could have survived this,” Dusty said. “Blood in the back too.”
“Fire didn’t burn everything,” Carl said. “You never know.”
Dusty picked up a twisted hunk of metal. “The crash did this to this pipe. What the hell do you think it did to a human body?”
“Let’s look around and see if we can find some tracks or something,” Jim suggested.
Hal nodded, but he didn’t have hope of finding anything in this rocky desert landscape. They all walked the perimeter, shuffling along the outer edges of the wreckage. A few pieces of metal were strewn about, but Hal saw nothing else to indicate the crew had walked away.
“If they didn’t walk away, where the hell are their bodies?” Carl asked.
“Even if they burned, they’d still be here. The inside is charred pretty good but not like it was incinerated or anything,” Curtis said.
“Well, if they ain’t here, they had to have walked out,” Graham said.
“Maybe somebody else got here before we did,” Hal said. “Maybe somebody from around Paradox made it over this way.”
“No, I talked to Lou Wright before we left. He lives over near Paradox. He didn’t even hear the helicopter or crash out that way,” Carl said. “I’d bet nobody in town even knows there was one out here.”
“Where’d you see Lou?” Hal asked.
“He was out on a bicycle, if you can believe that. He was trying to see how far the power outage went. I told him we were heading out this way. I believe he was on his way back to town.”
“I guess with his wife gone, he’s got nothing else to do,” Graham said. “God knows he let his place go to hell and back after she died.”
Hal laughed as did the others, but he could relate to Lou. If something were to happen to Jean, he didn’t know if he’d have the will to keep up their place by himself. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could put a meal on the table.
Curtis dropped the twisted piece of metal he still held and it clanked on the rocks. “Well? What now?”
Carl shielded his eyes to the late afternoon sun. “Got a lot of daylight left,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m not looking to be sittin’ in the saddle again today, though.”
“How about we ride back to the fork, make an early camp by the creek?” Curtis said.
Hal nodded, even though he wanted to head on back to Jean. “Sounds good to me. I imagine I can make it that far,” he said. His back hurt just enough to make him accept a third night out.
They made the return trip to the creek in silence, only the sounds of crunching rocks breaking it as their horses ambled along. It was a pleasant enough day, Hal mused. A few clouds building in the west, nothing more. Should be another nice, cool evening for sleeping, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his own bed. And Jean, of course. There’d only been a handful of times over the last fifty some-odd years that they hadn’t shared a bed. When their kids were born, for sure. And then when Jean’s aunt had taken ill and she’d gone over to their place in Utah to care for her for a week or so.
Of course, there were a few hunting trips for him where he’d left Jean behind for a day or two. He figured it’d been fifteen or twenty years since he’d done that, though. Oh, hell, the years got away. He was seventy-five. It’d probably been closer to thirty years since he’d been on a hunting trip with the guys.
“Those nice two cottonwoods will make for some shade,” Carl said. “We’ll be hard-pressed to find a spot without rocks to lay our bedrolls, though.”
“Sleeping out like this reminds me of how damn old I am,” Graham said as he got off his horse.
Hal nodded. “I second that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Damn, my ass hurts,” Dana said for the third time.
“You’re a wimp,” Butch said. “We’re on the road. Riding doesn’t get any easier than this. Not like yesterday when we were following the creek.”
“I know. But it still hurts. I haven’t been in a saddle for this many hours since we were kids.”
“Well, your ass is a little bigger than it was back then.”
She whipped her head around, glaring at him. “What are you saying?”
“That didn’t come out right.”
“Are you saying I’m fat? That my ass is big?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or both?”
He laughed. “You know what I meant. You’re as thin as you always are.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I am not. I’ve gained seven pounds in the last year. Seven! I swear, once I turned thirty, all I have to do is look at food and I gain.”
“I’m going to guess that huge scoop of ice cream you put on your apple pie the other night might have something to do with it.”