by Gary Striker
“Does my helpless little boy need a ‘French 75’”, Jane asked with another hearty laugh as she retrieved yesterday’s pizza?
“Ok, Dominatrix Woman, I give in! What’s a ‘French 75’”?
“At least you know who you’re dealing with”, Jane affirmed.
“A ‘French75’ is a piece of World War 1 artillery, brain boy. That was my granddaddy’s job during the first war.
“I don’t know where you’d be hiding one of those cannons around here”, Steve questioned, “But why don’t you just shoot me with that thing”, as he pointed to the Winchester propped up against the closet door?
“Are we feeling a bit hassled, college boy”, Jane asked sarcastically with a laugh?
“Ok, as much as I would like to continue the punishment, I mean lesson, I don’t want you to crack under the strain of superior forces”, Jane said while failing to restrain another laugh.
Steve sat in silence wondering if there was a limit to his woman’s endurance.
“A French 75 is also a cocktail named after this famous battlefield gun. This was my daddy’s favorite drink, and he thought it was a fitting name, considering the effects it could have”.
“Well, your daddy was right! That ‘French75’ sure blew a chunk outa my hide”, Steve reminisced to no particular audience, “Everybody in Eagle Lake knows that I’ve been shelled and shot down”.
“Here, battered butt, try this on for size”, Jane said as she handed her man a newly concocted ‘French-75’ cocktail with a toast.
“No way” Steve argued, “I’m not toasting anything that I can’t blow to pieces with that shotgun”!
“Save that for your Martian friends, deadeye! Jane said as she wiped tears from her eyes. She placed the steaming hot pizza in front of her man.
“I’m so sorry for emaciating your sensitive demeanor, jungle boy, but in this house, Me Jane, You Tarzan! Get it, huh”?
“Why me”, Steve muddled with his mouth full?
Aliens in the Allagash
Chapter 17
The Encounter
Thursday morning was slow to arrive as rain showers were in the forecast. This weather pattern was an ideal blueprint by which the reconnaissance team could best benefit. The rain almost totally muted the sound of footsteps in the soggy turf. As far as Steve’s battle plan was concerned, it was the sound of victory!
“Oh God, it was good to get some sleep for a change”, Steve mumbled to himself as he stretched in front of the bedroom window, “I’m going to trade in my firing squad job and become a mattress tester”!
“Breakfast in ten minutes, Comatose Boy”, Jane announced from the kitchen.
Steve made his way down the stairs while taking in the kitchen sounds and aromas. He did his best to restrain any instructive comments and suggestions on Jane’s behalf, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“Are you as good at washing clothes as you are at cooking”, Steve said with a voice of apprehension, knowing that his ‘innocent’ question and plea for help could set off a fire storm?
“Good morning to you too, laundry boy”, Jane greeted Steve with a fully loaded arsenal, while launching a very smooth attack,
“May I make a suggestion”?
“Oh shit, here it comes”, Steve blabbered out loud!
“The next time you wash your clothes, don’t bother to take them off first. It’ll be more ecologically efficient that way”.
“What’s for breakfast”, Steve asked with his worn-out cliché, while trying to avoid a bombardment?
“Why don’t you take that shotgun, go out in the woods like a brave little Davy Crockett and find something. Then let me know what you’re having”, Jane said in a helpful manner, “and don’t forget to wash your clothes”.
Steve smiled to the sounds of salvation from his extraterrestrial orchestra.
“I’m gonna owe those Martian guys a whole keg of beer”, he said jubilantly as he answered his alien communicator device.
“Hi Jim”, Steve greeted, “Thanks for saving me”.
“Excuse me”, Jim asked in a confused tone?
“Aw, nuthin’”, Steve replied, “What’s up”?
“What are ya’ thinking, Steve”?
“I think we’re good to go”, Steve answered confidently.
“Meet us over at Striker’s garage about eleven hundred. The boys are chomping at the bit. Cheyenne called me three times already this morning wanting to know if we could go catch a Martian today”.
“Eleven O’clock it is”, Steve confirmed as he hung up and focused at the steaming plate in front of him.
“Now, where were we, slicky boy”, Jane asked with a flap of her eyelashes?
“Weren’t we discussing something about wedding plans”, Steve asked as he diverted the bashing?
“Lucy said that they would have to get you so drunk to consider marriage, that they would need to hoist you up to your knees to propose”, Jane questioned, “Any truth to the rumor”?
Steve got down on his knees and begged mercy while taking Jane’s hands.
“I don’t make loans to Out-of-State applicants, you mendicant”, Jane said as she informed Steve of his current station in life.
“Have mercy, Jane, for you know not what you’ve done! How will you ever forgive yourself? Please consider the indulgence of a lifetime and get hitched up with me”!
Steve looked up into Jane’s eyes with his condescending smile of triumph and conquest while waiting for the big ‘yes’ word”.
“Jethro, that was the dumbest, most stupid, moronic, nonsensical, dim witted marriage proposal I’ve ever heard of”, Jane summarized with a pause, as Steve raised his eyebrows in expectation, “But sometimes that empty clam trap of yours defies all probabilities and has something sensible to say”.
“Was that a ‘Yes’, Honey-Do”, Steve questioned, but couldn’t prevent another occurrence from ensuing?
“C’mon, hurry up, babe, my breakfast is getting cold”, Steve requested in an urgent manner!
“I hope that when it comes time to say ‘I do’, your best man won’t have to say, ‘he does’!
“Screw your breakfast”, was Jane’s snide response as she threw herself on the man of her dreams.
A hard driving rain accompanied Steve and Jane for the drive to the Striker residence in Wallagrass. They could see quite a few vehicles in the parking area as they made their way up the drive. All of the guys, including Ron’s search and rescue team, were assembled in the large double bay garage making preparations.
“Hey guys”, Jim said in a welcome greeting to Steve and Jane as they hustled in through the rain, “What do you think”?
Jim motioned to three over-equipped A.T.V.’s jammed with every type of armament and back country gear imaginable
Cheyenne had fashioned a rocket launcher out of P.V.C. tubing that he mounted on the roof rack. It was sitting atop a modified office chair that served as a tripod of sorts. He had devised it for use as a pneumatic potato launcher for the festivities at the Acadian festivals.
Jim looked at the invention in disgust.
“Cheyenne, have you lost your mind”, Jim asked? Do you plan to shoot potatoes at the Martians? That’ll be real handy in case they want to make salad for dinner”, Jim assessed.
The gang laughed as Steve had his doubts about taking this mission seriously. Cheyenne broke out his big combative grin as he pushed his A.T.V. near the garage door entrance.
“Oh, Christ, now what’s he up to”, Gary asked in a contemptuous tone as Cheyenne’s smile got bigger?
Cheyenne grabbed a refashioned soup can out of a ruck sack, which was full of the things. He opened a trap door at the breech end of his cannon and put the can in place. Cheyenne pointed the contraption toward an open area seventy five yards down range. His grin got intensive as he ignited a fuse with his gas welding spark lighter, secured the breech, and released a gas pressure valve.
Everyone stood around in amazement as the soup can got
launched two-hundred and fifty feet in the air with a percussive discharge and landed in the open area. About the same time, the makeshift Improvised Explosive Device detonated with an enormous boom, bringing a nearby tree down.
“The loggers might be interested in this invention”, Bob said as he got himself up off the ground.
“I had it all wrong about your ‘ex’, Cheyenne”, Jim said. “There’s no question as to why she cleared out of here”, referring to Cheyenne’s former property.
“I think we’ll take that contraption with us”, Ron said while shaking his head in disbelief.
“I never saw potatoes do that before”, Gary said as he added to the evaluation summary!
“No big deal”, Cheyenne said in a charismatic sense of expected success, “I just switched out the potato rounds for gunpowder and buckshot”.
“Goddamn, Cheyenne, I hope you don’t do the Martians a favor and kill us all with that thing”, Jim said questionably?
Ron distributed hands-free communicators for the recon team and explained their use. They were previously requisitioned for emergency use to coordinate team functions in time of duress. Everybody was talking to each other in no time with the hearing aid type transceivers.
“Steve, you and Cheyenne take the lead A.T.V.”, Jim instructed by prior arrangement. ”Gary and Bob, you guys are next, and Ron and I will bring up the rear. Everybody ok with that?
Steve thought it was a good strategy, but hoped he didn’t get blown to shit in Cheyenne’s A.T.V. He consulted a topographic map of the area along with satellite images and devised a game plan. He shared the placement of the radio signal detection instrument with the group, along with several alternate plans in the event that they were discovered. Since Gary had already mounted the receiving antenna to his A.T.V., they decided that this vehicle should be parked at a strategic location overlooking Ben Lake, if they could make it that far.
Bob distributed modified rescue blankets to the team. These were purchased by snowmobilers as a safety measure. Bob’s wife had reworked these into ponchos that could be easily slipped over the head. Besides providing protection from the elements, they would also help to reduce the amount of thermal radiation from their bodies, something their Martian friends were evidently able to detect.
Jim tested the laser transmitter while aiming at a tree on the other side of the parking area. It was a brilliant, almost fluorescent green light beam that was easily distinguishable through the rain. He affectionately called it his ‘Laser-Taser’.
Ron left specific instructions for two of his crew members to post themselves at a safe highpoint near the Ben Lake trail entrance to act as a communications relay to the guys down below. They would also function as first responders in the event of an emergency should they be able to maintain radio communications with the recon team.
Jane joined the rescue team for the duration of the mission. Several of the members brought snacks and hot beverages, which helped to maintain a light picnic atmosphere. Jane was trying to maintain her usual business manner, but was finding that to be difficult, considering her new fiancé status.
Steve was barking orders like the platoon leader he was and the recon machine appeared to be synchronized. Everyone was saddled up and ready to deploy. Jane did not want to distract her man and simply put her finger to her lips with a smile and pointed him toward the trail.
Cheyenne stopped at the trailhead for a last inspection before moving on. Everyone took a deep breath as the woods closed in around them. The rain had subsided to a steady drizzle. Steve noticed that the A.T.V.’s were exceptionally quiet. Cheyenne informed him that they modified the exhaust systems so as not to spook the game. He was proud of the fact that he was able to sneak up so close to a feeding moose that he was able to slap him on the butt. Steve thought that his outlandish statement wasn’t too far from the truth.
Cheyenne stopped the team at the pile of deadfall that they cleared on the first mission. Steve advised that they travel only short distances at a time and stay close together. If all was clear, they would move on another fifty yards or so after each stop. Jim quietly made radio contact with the relay team near the trailhead. He had an earbud type speaker-microphone buried in one ear and the private network transceiver in the other. Jim gave the thumbs up to the guys.
“Before we go on”, Steve advised the squad, “be aware that we need to maintain radio silence as best we can. This means our private group coms get kept to a minimum. We don’t know what they are able to detect. Let’s use hand signals as our priority communication method when possible”.
Jim was thinking that Steve might be a primary reason that any of them would get out of this place alive!
Steve motioned the group forward at a snail’s pace and stopped as the trail started its long decent to the ridgeline overlooking the lake. He motioned Cheyenne to move on to his next checkpoint after detecting nothing. This stop and go technique got them to the drop-off where he had planned to ditch the A.T.V.’s without being detected, at least to their knowledge.
Steve signaled Gary to set up Darren’s spectrum analyzer and start the data recording process. Gary flipped a few switches and gave the thumbs up signal. He was consulting another instrument for spurious radio signals in the area. This radio wave field strength meter was very portable and could detect the presence of a strong signal with no other specific information.
The boys were functioning as a single unit under Steve’s expert guidance. They laid low for a few minutes with each team member focusing on a specific slice of the woods. They had no indication that unwelcome visitors were nearby.
Steve motioned everyone into the prone position about five yards apart facing the drop-off to the lake. A hand signal was all that was needed to move the squad forward, slowly and deliberately through the cover of the Allagash woods. The lake shore came into view as Steve ordered his team to stop, using only the single word, ‘halt’, through the network communicator.
Jim was peering through his binoculars, which were fastened to an elastic harness.
“These guys think of everything”, Steve thought to himself as Jim motioned toward the lake while capturing a video of something.
Steve signaled the group to move forward. Gary and Bob readied their rifles as they crawled down the embankment within twenty yards of the lake shore.
“Down”, was the sole order of command that Steve ordered over the network.
Directly in front of them was some type of weird vehicle, about the size of a golf cart. It was motionless, but not setting on the ground. It appeared to have an inner glow, but no external lights. Jim had his camera rolling.
“I thought I saw something”, Cheyenne alerted over the radio network, “There, by the shoreline, coming this way”.
“Where did that thing come from”, Gary whispered, “It wasn’t there a minute ago”?
“Easy, guys, don’t breathe”, Steve advised, “here comes another one”.
Steve was looking at the identical twin that he encountered at the saw mill.
“Just like in the movies”, Steve thought as the creatures in front of them took on definite form, “I can’t believe that they don’t know we’re here”.
Two oval shaped mirror-like disks appeared in a large pear-shaped head, as other features took shape. The two creatures faced a tripod type contraption setting near the shore. Steve immediately recognized it as the same type of device that he encountered before Eagle Lake blew its top. He also recognized Darren’s Correlator that one of them handed to the other. In a few seconds, one of the creatures lost form as it headed toward the vehicle that remained motionless on the lake shore. As it approached the vehicle, the creature appeared to get absorbed and disappeared.
All the guys were wide eyed and becoming fidgety at the site of their Martian friend standing directly in front of them.
At that moment, the water surface became very turbulent and a definite swirl took place near the center of the lake. A chasm formed, much like
the eye of a hurricane, but this one was drilling itself into the lake surface.
Gary immediately recognized Cheyenne’s ‘hole in the lake’ from their over flight in the Cessna. Cheyenne winked at Gary as the vehicle in front of them, a transporter of sorts, became translucent and began to move out over the lake surface.
“Holy crap”, Bob whispered to himself, but was heard over the network.
The transporter disappeared into the hole in the lake and the surface healed itself. The guys looked at each other as the remaining creature stood motionless facing the lake.
All eyes were riveted on Steve!
“Well guys, we’re here for a reason”, he thought to himself as he signaled Jim.
Steve pointed to the laser transmitter, then to his own hand while pantomiming a grasp of something, then pointed toward the creature.
Jim immediately acknowledged with a nod of his head as he pointed the laser at the Correlator that the creature appeared to be holding, but not actually gripping it.
“This is all too weird”, Steve thought to himself, “Darren thought the creatures were defenseless without their ray gun”, as he referred to the Correlator. Let’s see what these varmints can do against a Mainer”!