Aquifer: A Novel

by Gary Barnes

  “Track the trajectory of whatever that was and let me know where it impacted,” yelled Branigan. “There’s so much uncharted space trash floating around up there, it’s a wonder we get anything done. It’s an orbiting junk-yard!”

  “Preliminary data calculations indicate It wasn’t junk, sir,” the aide replied. “It was something massive that was deliberately built, and it was cloaked - probably extraterrestrial,” the aide replied.

  “Don’t speak to me in science fiction terms, I tell you it was uncharted space junk! And that’s an order!” he barked as he glared around the room to ensure that everyone got the message. Then returning his gaze to the aide, he continued. “Now get me those coordinates.”

  General Branigan knew that the aide was correct, but he also understood the strategic implications for national security if word got out that some other country had developed a stealth shield, or worse yet, that the object’s origin was extraterrestrial.

  The General’s aide worked feverishly at his computer console for a moment, redirecting the focus of the uplink satellites to pinpoint the area. Then he responded, “Impact occurred at latitude 370902 North, longitude 912127 West. Let’s see . . .” A computer monitor overlay map of the U.S. started zooming in on the coordinates. “That puts it in south central Missouri . . . Shannon County . . . about 10 miles east of a little town called Eminence,” reported the aide.

  “What’s the nearest military base?” barked Branigan, eager to learn what they had hit.

  The aide entered the request into the computer, “Sir, Ft. Leonard Wood outside of Rolla, Missouri, is about seventy-five miles away.”

  “Get the base commander on the phone, NOW!” the General demanded.

  General Branigan then turned to Major Reid, standing rigidly to his right. Richard Reid was a very proficient career man who did everything by the book. For him there was no leeway or tolerance for variance once an order had been given. He was not a brown-noser, nor did he intentionally try to impress anyone. He was just an extremely anally retentive person who honestly believed that this was the way things should be – no variance from the book, regardless of the situation, circumstances, or personnel involved. To Reid, trying to understand “why” an order had been given, the objective of its issuance, or thinking for oneself when circumstances changed, were strictly forbidden. This characteristic made him very popular with his superiors, especially when a task needed completion for which his superiors did not wish to make explanations.

  Reid blindly, almost robotically, followed orders to the extreme, never questioning them; similarly, he expected orders he gave to his subordinates to be equally blindly followed.

  In actuality, though, Reid did not have a clue about how things really worked outside of his by-the-book approach to life. In the civilian world this trait would have served him well as a financial planner, bank examiner or IRS auditor, but in the military, it had caused him difficulty in several command situations.

  Behind his back, Reid’s subordinates frequently called him “Major Major,” a mildly derogatory nickname they had dubbed him for his eccentricities and strict adherence to the chain of command. Men under his command often wondered why he was in charge. He could not think for himself, and when circumstances changed he continued to blindly follow the original orders – orders that were clearly intended for circumstances other than the current situation. Though he would staunchly deny it, Reid was strictly a mindless puppet whose strings were pulled by his superiors.

  “Major, I want you on a plane within thirty minutes to take personal charge of the cleanup operation. I need some eyes and ears. Keep me posted,” stated General Branigan.

  “Yes sir!” said Major Reid as he saluted, turned sharply on his heels and briskly headed for the door.

  “Sir,” the aide interrupted, “General Tyler, the base commander of Ft. Leonard Wood, is on the phone.” The aide handed the phone receiver to General Branigan.

  “Tyler, this is General Branigan over at Cheyenne Mountain. We have a situation and I need your assistance. We shot down an unidentified object that has crashed in the Ozark Mountains near you.” The General switched the phone to his left ear as he picked up a pen to sign Reid’s transport orders which his aide was holding on a clip board. He continued his phone conversation without missing a beat. “I want a containment team on location before sunup. Major Reid is flying out to oversee the operation as my personal representative. Tyler, this is a Black Ops situation. Not a word of this is to get out. Neither Reid, nor his detachment is to have official recognition. Until we know what we’re dealing with, I want absolute silence maintained.”

  =/=

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Crash Site

  Late the next morning, Larry drove the black Hummer south along a twisty, winding Ozark back-country dirt road. Two weeks earlier, as they had been preparing to transport their equipment from St. Louis, Larry had chided Clayton about his choice of the Hummer H-2. How could such a staunch environmentalist justify using such a gas hog?

  Clayton had responded that eighteen wheelers would be entirely inappropriate, from an environmental perspective, for use as a family vehicle, but that when used for their intended purpose of hauling large, heavy loads across the country that they were the most environmentally friendly vehicle of choice.

  Similarly, for the purpose of backwoods travel the H-2 was the most logical and environmentally friendly vehicle they could use. Inasmuch as he had only leased it for the summer project, he would return it to the dealer in the fall and once again use his Toyota Prius. Besides, he had said, there wasn’t any mass transit or public transportation in the back-country. Regardless, Larry suspected that the seductive allure of the H-2 had more to do with Clayton’s decision than the logic he presented. But Clayton was the professor. Who was Larry to argue with that?

  The lush green forest seemed to swallow the Hummer as it meandered down the seldom used dirt road. Overhead, the dense canopy effectively blocked all sight of both the sun and sky, casting the forest floor into an eerie, perpetual twilight. The thick foliage was so dense that the men could usually see no more than a few feet into the surrounding forest, causing them to lose all perspective of their relative position, though Clayton was sure that he and Larry were heading in the right general direction to discover whatever had crashed the previous evening.

  Underbrush and tree branches grew right up to the edge of the dirt road, brushing the sides of the wide Hummer. It gave the impression that the men were descending through a long, narrow, dark green tunnel.

  Every few hundred yards the underbrush would give way to a few acres of open patches, allowing the men to catch quick glimpses of extended portions of the forest floor, though the tall trees ensured that the twilight never receded.

  Large granite boulders lay scattered in patches at random intervals throughout the fern covered open spaces. The boulders were overgrown with mosses and lichens and portrayed the image of huge, sleeping, green hairy ogres strewn amongst the ferns and grasses. Thick grape vines draped the landscape, dangling from the lofty tree tops and playfully beckoned adventurous youth to swing from boulder to boulder.

  Two miles down the road the forest suddenly gave way to a lush mountain meadow filled with bright wild flowers of every color, size, type and variety. The unexpected colorful landscape caused Larry to stop the H-2 and gaze at the beauty glistening in the morning sunlight before them.

  “Wow! It’s like being part of a living Van Gogh,” exclaimed Larry.

  “Yeah, it’s vistas like this that make me hate to return to the city at the end of the summer,” Clayton agreed.

  Slowly Larry proceeded down the dirt road that circumnavigated the beautiful meadow to their right. The Current River could be seen a half mile in the distance, at the far edge of the meadow. It poked in and out of clumps of trees that lined its bank. Multiple ridges of Ozark mountains formed a backdrop trapping the river between the mountains and the meadow.

  “Are those
wild horses I see down by the river?” asked Larry incredulously.

  “Yes! Stop the car again. I was hoping to see them sometime this summer. This is one of only two wild horse herds between the Rocky Mountains and the Appalachians,” Clayton exclaimed as he raised his binoculars and began to scan the herd. “They’ve been the source for a lot of political posturing back in Washington, not to mention the local political uproars as well.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Larry said as he slipped the gear shift into park while letting the engine continue to idle.

  “No, wild horses have been documented to roam this area for over a hundred years, but during the Great Depression their numbers increased as farmers who couldn’t afford to feed their horses any longer let them go to join the wild ones.” Clayton lowered his binoculars and reached for a legal pad on which to record some notes. “Currently the herd has about fifty head. They traverse the meadows along the Jack’s Fork and the Current River drainage area. After the Depression some of the settlers who used to farm these valleys tried to catch them and sell them for cash. The horses were pretty wily, though, so no one ever made much of a dent in their population.” Again he raised his binoculars for a better inspection. “When this area was converted into a National Park, the Park Service decided that the horses were a nuisance and tried to get rid of them. So a bunch of concerned citizens filed lawsuits to block their efforts and it eventually went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court.”

  “Well, I’m glad the court had some sense and sided with the citizens. I’d hate to think that these magnificent animals could be destroyed,” Larry interjected.

  “Not so. The Supreme Court decided against the citizens and ordered the horses to be removed at the discretion of the Park Service.” He lowered his binoculars and looked directly at Larry. “A couple of senators got involved, including Bill Emerson, Kit Bond, and even John Ashcroft. They drafted a bill which was passed and finally signed into law in 1996 by President Bill Clinton. The wild horses are now officially recognized as a permanent part of the Ozark National Scenic Riverways system.”

  “I’m glad that our elected officials finally did something right,” Larry sighed. “But at the risk of being misunderstood, it’s sort of scary to think that with all of the critically important issues and the strategic decisions our country needs to make, that the Congress, the Supreme Court and the President of the United States had nothing better to do with their time than to sit around debating the fate of forty or fifty wild horses roaming the river banks in the backwoods of the Ozarks. It’s kind of reminiscent of Nero fiddling while Rome burned.”

  “No need to fear being misunderstood. I think you just spoke the sentiments of a vast majority of our citizens, even though the wild horse legislation was important.”

  Larry pulled back on the gear shift lever protruding from the floor consol at his right and slipped the H-2 into drive. He began to slowly proceed down the dirt road, keeping his eyes on the frolicking horses on the far side of the meadow while admiring their grace and beauty.

  As the Hummer cleared the meadow and once again entered the twilight of the dense forest Clayton consulted the map. “This road dead-ends at an unimproved, makeshift campground on a gravel bar beside the river in about a mile. It doesn’t appear to take us anywhere near that impact site. However, there’s a firebreak road on the left just up ahead. Let’s see where it goes.”

  Arriving at the designated spot, Larry slowed the Hummer and turned onto the narrow, twisty, and poorly marked ribbon of treeless undergrowth that seemed more like a game trail than a road. The semi-cleared but extremely uneven road before them wound up a steep hill and vanished into the thick forest and undergrowth.

  Larry gained an immediate appreciation for the vehicle’s high undercarriage clearance. Without it, they would not have been able to proceed on this rocky, chuckhole-laden trail. The added stability of the wide wheel base made driving much easier. The broad tires grabbed well but left little impact upon the flora beneath them. The H-2's permanent 4-wheel-drive status, coupled with its massive 3 ½ ton weight created great traction in the soft rocky soil. The vehicle exuded power yet was easier to handle than a sedan on a city street. Larry particularly appreciated the creature comforts the H-2 afforded them at the moment. The suspension absorbed the shock of the bone-jarring jolts they took, providing for a relatively smooth ride as they traversed the rough terrain. It seemed to Larry more like they were going cross-country than following a makeshift road. Additionally, they rode bug-free from the hoards of mosquitoes and gnats that swarmed about in thick dark clouds; not to mention the climatic comfort they enjoyed by being freed from the sweltering heat and drenching humidity. Larry had to admit that Clayton had been right about making the Hummer their primary vehicle.

  A mountain ridge lay about a half-mile to their left, and the Current River was about a quarter of a mile to their right. Clayton continued to navigate with map and compass in hand.

  “We’re going to merge with another firebreak road in about one hundred yards. Stay to the right when you get there.”

  Arriving at an inverted “Y” junction, Larry obediently merged to the right.

  After several minutes Clayton pointed to the mountain, “According to the map, Blue Spring’s just over that ridge. I’d say we're getting close to the impact area, so keep your eyes open.”

  “We’d have missed this road completely if you hadn’t had that map,” Larry confessed. “But this secondary road has some pretty deep ruts and the foliage seems recently trampled. It appears that this road is used a lot for a firebreak road.”

  “You’ve noticed? I’m impressed,” Clayton commended.

  “Any idea what that thing was last night?” asked Larry.

  Clayton paused for a moment before answering, trying to determine how best to respond. “No, I really don’t have any idea, but it definitely wasn’t a meteorite.”

  Rounding a curve, Larry and Clayton were unexpectedly stopped by military MPs at an improvised roadblock at a wide spot in the road. An MP approached the vehicle as Larry lowered his driver-side window.

  “This is a restricted area. Turn your vehicle around and leave!” ordered the MP.

  Clayton was surprised by the presence of the military, and even more so by the MP’s order to leave since they were in the middle of a National Park. He put down the map and leaned toward Larry's lowered window. “I'm a professor from St. Louis University. We're investigating a . . .” Clayton checked himself before saying anything that might hamper their objective, “. . . a meteorite impact.”

  “I'm sorry sir! This is a restricted area. If you do not immediately leave you will be placed under military arrest,” the MP again ordered.

  “Perhaps if we could speak to your commanding officer,” interjected Larry.

  At that moment Clayton noticed something moving in a military cargo truck parked a few feet to the side of the H-2. The corner of a tarp covering the bed of a duce and a half was momentarily flipped up revealing part of the head and a leg of a strange animal before the tarp fell back into place. Nothing in Clayton’s zoological training registered as to the identity of the animal.

  Instinctively Clayton opened the car door and stepped out, headed for a closer look at the unusual cargo. Without hesitation, the MP unholstered his .45 sidearm, cocked the hammer and aimed at Clayton’s head. Simultaneously two other soldiers rushed forward with raised M-16s. The MP addressed Clayton in a loud, commanding voice. “Halt! Return to your vehicle or I will shoot.”

  Clayton immediately halted, hesitated momentarily, then obediently retreated back to the Hummer. All three MPs kept their weapons trained on Clayton and Larry.

  “Now, turn your vehicle around!”

  Stunned, Larry put the Hummer into reverse and slowly began to back up as he started to turn around. As he did so, the MP recorded his license plate number.

  Turning to an enlisted man the MP tore the page from his writing pad and handed it to him.

>   “Take this to Major Reid, on the double!” barked the MP.

  Beyond the roadblock, and around a bend in the firebreak road there were over fifty other military vehicles concealed in a makeshift parking lot. Over two hundred troops surrounded the trucks, busily loading and securing objects onto them. It was apparent that they had been loading a large quantity of something mysterious, but all the cargo was covered to prevent prying eyes from seeing the stash of objects recovered from the impact crash site which was out of sight just beyond the crest of the hill.

  *

  The impact crater was oblong in shape and appeared to be one-half mile long and one hundred-fifty feet wide. At one end, where the initial impact occurred, the crater was ten feet deep. Its depth progressively increased to sixty feet where the craft came to rest.

  The craft, broken into several pieces upon impact, had already been extracted and loaded onto several flatbed trucks. At the bottom of the sixty-foot deep crater was a twenty-five foot wide hole which broke through the ceiling of a large underground cave. Military personnel dressed in self-contained bio-hazard suits entered and exited the hole using extension ladders, carrying out objects retrieved from the crash. Traces of smoke wafted from the hole. Military cranes hoisted larger objects through the hole in the cave roof. Major Reid barked orders regarding the cleanup operations while his men scurried about like dutiful little ants carefully dissecting and carrying bits of an elephant back to their nest.

  The enlisted man from the M.P. station approached Major Reid and handed him the brief report. The major studied it carefully.

  *

  Inside the cave beneath the crater an underground river lazily flowed through the cavern, flanked on one side by a thirty-foot wide dry bank. Large halogen floodlights had been erected, illuminating the interior of the cave better than if it had been an open meadow at mid-day. Military personnel picked up, cataloged, and carried out crash debris, including many types of strange animals and plants. Most of the animals were dead but some were weakly moving.