The Hidden Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  I glanced over at Donny, and we both shrugged. “Have to admit, it is impressive,” I said.

  The Gap giant raised his body up into a low crouch, all the while keeping the plank perfectly level.

  “He’s going to do it!” Matt said, sounding a bit more enthusiastic now. “He’s going to raise that son of a bitch bull right up over his head!”

  The small crowd seemed equally stirred by the alien’s amazing feat of strength. The Gap, poised to stand upright, had nearly done it. One final lift and thrust of his arms overhead was all that was needed.

  Right then the teenage girl, by mistake or on purpose, let go of Charles’s rope. I watched in horror, witnessing the bull’s reaction: his only connection to what was familiar was gone. Why isn’t someone holding my rope? The bull had suddenly lost his connected anchor upon an unsteady sea. Everything in that moment changed for Charles. As the bull leapt from the plank everyone in the audience screamed. All hell was breaking loose.

  chapter 13

  As Charles the bull leapt into the air, frantic and terrified, he flailed. His head, along with his magnificent horns—a six-foot span of hardened dermal bone, with tips as sharp as spears—swung back and forth in a wild blur of motion. Instinctively, the bull’s two powerful rear legs thrust out backward. Both hoofs kicked Dalm Mor Stroph hard in the face, making an audible THWACK!

  I watched transfixed at the unraveling mayhem. A slow-motion train wreck no one could do anything about but watch in horror.

  But the worst was yet to come. Probably in a knee jerk-like reaction, the giant Gap flung out a clawed hand and seized one of the bull’s raised hind legs. Held tightly, the steer’s nineteen hundred-pound body mass came crashing down in front of the stage. His hindquarters twisted and elevated. Bones snapped as muscles and ligaments were torn and ripped apart. The seized leg separated, tearing away from the hip socket, yet remained in the staggering Gap’s still-raised grip, looking like an early caveman’s club.

  A horrendous screeching wail emanated from the bull’s widely gaping mouth. Blood pumped and spurted high in the air from the animal’s ragged leg wound. The shocked and paralyzed audience began to yell and scream as fight or flight instincts kicked in. The teenage girl, along with Leo, the master of ceremonies, fled out through the rear of the tent, somewhere behind the hanging mural. Others, rushing from the stands, ran for the exit. Flight. Only three onlookers rushed forward—Matt, Donny, and me. Fight.

  My priority was tending to the wounded bull. His suffering had to stop. First to reach the bottom step of the bleachers, I took three running strides and leapt over the still-thrashing bull. My forward momentum carried me straight into Dalm Mor Stroph’s legs, knocking them out from under him. The big alien came thundering down on top of me, with the force of a collapsing high-rise building. As the alien rolled onto his back and kicked outward, Donny, rushing forward, was smacked squarely in the balls. Falling down, he curled into a fetal position. He was down for the count.

  The bull’s fountaining spurts of blood had everything drenched within a ten-foot parameter. As hard as I tried to get purchase on one of the alien’s wrists, everything was too slick, too slippery to hold onto. Matt, nearby, threw a punch at the alien’s head and it connected. The Gap, in return, swung the bull’s leg, clubbing Matt from his feet and up and off the stage.

  Still trying to grab a hold of something in the wet, gooey, bloody mess—anything—my fingers found the butt-end of the Gap’s mistmaker pistol. My body on autopilot, I was reacting not thinking. What soldiers are trained to do. Pulling the weapon free from its holster, I aimed it at a point beneath the alien’s jutting chin and pulled the trigger. The Gap marshal went limp. I then turned the weapon’s muzzle toward the still-wailing bull and once again pulled the trigger. The bull lay inert before me. My heart was pounding—a kettledrum beating in my chest.

  Then Matt was next to me, his face half-covered in dripping blood. “Give me that!” he yelled. Prying the mistmaker weapon from my fingers, he placed it back in Dalm Mor Stroph’s hip holster, just as Donny struggled to rise to his feet.

  “Listen to me,” Matt said, in a hushed voice. “We were only trying to save the alien. Got that?”

  Donny, his words clipped, his voice sounding a tad higher pitched than normal, said, “But he was shot; anyone can see the fucking wound, right there under his chin.”

  Matt used his finger to swipe some blood from his own face then smeared it into the dead Gap’s wound. He then repeated the motion, now swiping the Gap’s blood onto the tip of one of the bull’s horns. “No, the big dumb Gap got nailed by a horn. We all witnessed it.”

  At that moment five Gap marshals, their weapons drawn, came running into the tent. This was going to be a long night.

  —————

  An hour later, we each had given brief statements of the preceding events to the supervising marshal.

  From ten feet away, I stared into the big brown eyes, the pupils fixed and dilated, of Charles, the dead bull. Up on the raised platform, Dalm Mor Stroph lay on his back where he’d dropped lifeless.

  The teen-aged girl, Colleen, was brought back in for questioning, as was the oddly-dressed Master of Ceremonies, Leo. Four steps away from them, sitting in the bleachers, Matt, Donny, and I sat huddled together, still in our blood-drenched clothing.

  “I’m so sorry . . . this is all my fault, isn’t it?” I heard Colleen say to Leo.

  I turned to look at her. “You did nothing wrong. Plain and simple, that was a ridiculous, ill-conceived, stunt. It just as easily could have been you who was hurt, maybe even killed.”

  Colleen nodded, then sniffed as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “Charles was so sweet,” she said.

  “The bull was yours?” I asked.

  “Yeah, well, my family’s . . .”

  We all watched as an investigative team of Gap marshals from the Oversight and Enforcement Center in town worked the scene of the supposed accident. Pictures and vids were shot from every angle. Measurements and other readings were taken, using an assortment of hand-held Gap devices. Apparently, we were waiting for Sleept Vogthner, the Gap’s chancellor of communications, to arrive from Boulder. He’d be taking our statements. Nothing had been touched, nothing moved.

  Matt, Donny, and I spoke together in low whispers. “We need to get our stories straight,” Matt said, one leg nervously gyrating up and down.

  Donny placed a restraining hand on Matt’s knee. “Relax. It’s simple . . . we rushed over to the stage to save the girl and Leo, and the idiot giant. Colleen and Leo escaped out the back. Everything happened exactly as it appears . . . The Gap got nailed in the chin by one of Charles’s horns and Matt shot the suffering bull with the Gap’s gun. End of story.”

  I gave Matt a reassuring nod. “Hey, everyone saw the bull freak out before Leo, the girl, and the audience hightailed it out of here. I think all will be fine, but it’s going to be a PR nightmare for the Gaps. That’s why Sleept Vogthner’s been sent for. Stick to the story and they’ll soon let us out of here.”

  But right then a guttural moan escaped out the mouth of Dalm Mor Stroph’s undead body. His head turned, his eyes opening wide, blinking repeatedly.

  “Shit,” I murmured.

  We watched in horror as the five marshals rushed to the platform. Stroph tried to sit up, but strong hands kept him down in a prone position. I heard one of the marshals speak to him in Earupitan. I assumed he was asking questions—like, “Can you understand me? Where are your injuries . . .”

  The three of us exchanged glances, unable to keep sudden trepidation from showing on our faces.

  Unintelligible mumblings came from Stroph. I didn’t understand much of the Earupitan language, but I knew what he said was nonsensical gibberish. Suddenly, the big alien sat up and gazed around him. I heard a siren in the distance—a fast-approaching ambulance.

  “I
think you obliterated his tongue, too,” Donny said.

  “Shhh,” Matt shushed. “Keep your voice down!”

  With all five marshals crouched around Stroph, I had to tilt my head sideways to get a peek at the seemingly resurrected alien’s face. Though he was alive, no one was home. With a goofy grin, and dazed unfocused eyes, Stroph looked about his surroundings.”

  “Could be his brain stem took a hit too,” Donny said.

  “Let’s just hope he stays this way. If he recovers, starts to remember . . . we’re toast.”

  Within five minutes the Gap’s equivalent of EMTs were hoisting Dalm Mor Stroph’s body onto a gurney. His long legs dangled way past the end of the stretcher, but he’d returned to an unconscious state.

  One of the Gap marshals approached us, his heads up display activated—evidenced by a projected translucent menu system encircling the Gap’s head. Gaps sometimes used a claw to input information instead of just eye movements. The marshal made a few taps on the virtual display his clawed finger, and then looked over at us.

  “The chancellor of communications has just been rerouted to the medical facilities at the OEC. He sends his apologies for the delay. You each will be contacted by EMS personnel shortly. Individual interviews with the chancellor will be held at the OEC tomorrow. You can leave now.”

  By the time we exited the tent, it was dark outside. I half expected the carnival to have been shut down, but the Zipper was still zipping and the Tilt-A-Wheel still twirling. The crowds had doubled in size.

  “We still on for midnight?” Donny asked.

  “Sure,” I said, as we moved toward the carnival’s exit. I had more than enough of the Friends Unite Day festivities. “I’m getting everyone together . . . I think we’re all in agreement that we need to accelerate the timetable.”

  “By the group, you mean all of us? Multiple cells?” Donny asked, adding, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Have to chance it . . . just be there at midnight,” I said.

  The three of us split up as we left the carnival. The sidewalk seemed pretty much deserted as I headed for Tami’s Antiques, where I’d left my truck. Then I spotted Karen, leaning up against her Bronco, her arms crossed over her chest. A man stood before her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. He leaned forward and she laughed at something he said. I felt a tightening in my chest. But what did I expect? That she’d never meet someone else? That, given enough time, she wouldn’t find room in her heart for someone to replace her dead husband? But I’d still hoped that just maybe that person might be me. I debated about crossing the street, avoid being seen, but decided to stride forth ahead. I had just as much right to be here as anyone else.

  Noticing my approach, Karen looked my way, her eyes widening. I saw the shock on her face. She glanced over my still blood-soaked clothes. Then, when the man turned to look, it was my turn to be shocked. It was none other than the leader of the Friends For Friends society, Ronald Gant.

  chapter 14

  I picked up a tail on the way home that wasn’t just another EMS HovT out on patrol. Shit! Third time this month. I already knew I was a person of interest, which could lead to my being brought in for questioning. But I’ve been so careful—extremely careful. Did one of my Takebacks have loose lips? Although that was possible, I had a hard time believing it.

  Unless you knew what to look for, especially at night, aerial distortion wakes are damn hard to see. But by angling my side-view mirror upward, I spotted the telltale blur of the twinkling starlight above and slightly behind me. Heat exhausts. It was a Skim-Rover—a Gap military vehicle, specifically used for surveillance. The dark, triangular-shaped crafts are exceptionally quiet; capable of slow, meandering progressions within low to medium altitudes. Although Skim-Rovers are equipped with energy-pulse weaponry, they definitely are not in the same league as a Shredder. But then a Shredder was neither built, nor intended to be a clandestine craft.

  My headlights flashed brightly on something crossing the road mere feet in front of my truck’s front bumper. I slammed on the breaks, locking-up all four tires. The pickup skidded sideways—the odor of burning rubber permeating the air. I watched as three coyotes skittered below into a gulch running parallel to the road. Letting the engine idle a moment, I sat there for a full minute before driving on. Through the windshield, my eyes could just barely make out the dark contours of the stealthy craft above. Five minutes later, I approached the turnoff to my driveway and the Polk ranch property line. As I slowed to make the turn, I thought I saw the craft suddenly angle off to the left. Was it due to the newly designated Code 5 allocation, or had they simply lost interest in me for the night?

  By the time I parked in front of the barn, I was again thinking about Karen being with Ronald Gant. Just what I now needed, another reason to despise the guy. But there was a bigger issue—Karen knew all about the Takebacks. Hell, she knew about the shredders and Jhally, too. Yet I knew her loyalty to her brother, Matt was absolute. So maybe it was just a romantic thing. She wouldn’t be the first person to be involved in a relationship having to keep secrets.

  As I opened the truck’s door and climbed out, Mort was there to greet me. Barking twice, he jumped up on his hind legs. Leaning over, I let him lick my face. “Good boy . . . okay, okay, you must be hungry.” I pushed him back down giving him a few more pats on his flank. When the barn doors slid open, I caught the tall contours of Jhally standing there within the darkness.

  “Any problems?” I asked.

  “No. It has been quiet. I fed the animals.”

  “Mort, too?”

  Jhally nodded. “You were gone longer than expected. Wasn’t sure if something had happened.”

  “Yeah . . . got held up for a while in town.” I noticed the trough was no longer sitting in front of the barn doors.

  Jhally stood aside as I entered the barn. As I flipped on more of the overhead lights, I noticed off to the left the trough was now positioned where the cot had been. The shit bucket was gone, and the chain gone, too. Approaching the aluminum container, I could hear a soft hum coming from the recirculating pump. As I peered down, I could just make out five dark shapes moving around beneath the metal grate. “Hmm. Five, not six . . . looks like you’ve had dinner here by yourself.”

  “And it was memorable. Thank you for thinking of me. The larvae will take some time to mature, though.”

  “I can buy some more full-grown bugs tomorrow,” I said, turning to assess the tarp-covered Shredder Five. “Progress?”

  Jhally limped over to the workshop area and pulled the tarp away. “I believe it is now ready to be flight-tested. Until then, we won’t know what tweaks and adjustments are still needed.”

  I circled the sleek craft, letting my hand slide across the smooth fuselage. Whereas various open panels, with exposed wiring and mechanical workings had showed before, the Shredder now was all buttoned-up. Looked ready to fly. I turned to face Jhally. “My plan was to test each craft, one at a time. Put them on a flatbed trailer and haul them up to Wyoming’s most isolated backcountry.”

  Jhally said, “That will take much time. Perhaps weeks, even months.”

  “Time we no longer can afford,” I agreed. “Things have changed. Gaps . . . Earupitans, are clearly readying their forces for something.”

  “You are worried about Marshal Grip’s assertion that this property of yours hasn’t actually been designated a Code 5. That he lied. Perhaps an Earupitan trap is in play?”

  Approaching the alien I stood two paces before him. “It’s time you fully leveled with me, Jhally. Explain the renewed military activity; those large-sized ships moving across the skies late at night. Did you think they wouldn’t be noticed?”

  Jhally seemed to choose his next words carefully. “Mass hysteria.”

  I shook my head. “What about it?”

  “That’s what would happen if the second phase of
their invasion strategy was released to the general public.”

  “I’m not the general public.”

  “You aren’t the only one with trust issues. Only this morning, did you not have me chained to a stake? I was your prisoner . . . at least that was your intent.”

  “Well, you’re not my prisoner now. Hell, you still have the mistmaker weapon with you, do you not? I am trusting you with my life—all our lives!”

  Jhally seemed to consider my words. “This was never only about an invasion, not a simple means to colonize Earth . . . some kind of galactic real estate grab.”

  “Then what?”

  “Have you not noticed there are relatively few Gaps, as you call them, presently living here on this world?”

  I nodded. “Advanced technology has its benefits.”

  “What you don’t know is that the Earupitans have been in the throes of a great war that started a good many years ago, one that threatens the very existence of Gahl as well as other worlds within the distant star systems, including Blahn. Bombings have taken their toll.”

  “A war? With whom?”

  “Does it matter?” Jhally asked.

  I shook my head. I was in no mood for mind games, or for half-truths. “So you were at war. It’s probably a common outcome throughout the universe, just as it is here on Earth. You’ll need to tell me everything.”