SODIUM Trilogy Part One

by Stephen Arseneault

  They all returned after a short while. We bedded down for the night, completely exhausted. The red tarps were once again over our heads to keep us dry from the morning dew. We slept in silence, and our sleep was deep and well deserved.

  The sun was coming up over the first ridge before anyone stirred the following morning. It was a two-hour hike up the creek to the Cherry Lake dam, where we hoped we would find a telephone. Bull would call his Sacramento friend and arrange to have us all picked up, as no one was interested in hiking the rest of the way out. I was excited with the thought of telling the world of our encounters and triumph, and especially of my own heroics.

  As we walked along, I began discussing with Bull about which stories we would tell first. Certainly my luring the red demon into one of its own traps was a highlight. The crowds would be wowed by my heroics on that one. I chatted endlessly as we walked.

  As I talked, Bull would just occasionally nod, and the others remained largely silent. All the glory that was to be was swirling endlessly around in my head. We were just approaching the dam when Bull put out his hand. He turned slowly and sighed.

  He told me they had all discussed the topic of telling the world. With no evidence to speak of, they had all come to the conclusion it would be best to just remain silent. They just wanted to return to their lives and to forget it had ever happened.

  If the aliens came again, it would be the Army's problem, not theirs. They would volunteer to help at that time if needed, but until and unless that time came... they just wanted to go back to their homes and their lives. They wanted to move on.

  I threw my hands up and clasped my fingers behind my head in a show of disbelief as my jaw dropped. This was such a huge moment in time for each of us, and for all mankind. I begged and pleaded with them to support me in telling our tale. I questioned how they could not.

  But one by one they shook their heads no. I was about to come apart. How could I tell anyone anything without them backing me, without looking the fool? We all hiked quietly for the last half hour up to the top of the ridge.

  Bull was able to persuade the operators at the dam to let us make a call to Sacramento. Within an hour the outfitter had rides heading our way. Our adventure was over. Bull told him that while the trip was a great idea on the surface, there were just too many things that could go wrong.

  After a few close calls, it was decided he did not want to take anyone who may not be fully prepared on such a rugged journey. Bull promised to come back out in a few months to give him a full briefing and to discuss other possible joint ventures. I knew then that the Yosemite Sportsman Adventure Package would never be sold.

  Several hours later, two cars arrived. It was a long ride back to Sacramento with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face. The driver kept trying to ask questions just to make conversation, but all he got in response were short answers. After the first twenty minutes of "Yes" and "No," he gave up trying.

  Our flights home seemed to take an eternity. We arrived back in Atlanta around 2 a.m. Bull and Allie drove me to my house. As I walked to my front door and turned the key, I looked back at them. Allie raised her hand in a halfhearted goodbye as they backed down the drive and slowly pulled away.

  I went into my big, empty house and sat down on my sofa. I stared endlessly at the walls. At some point I was overcome by fatigue, waking up the next morning lying where I had fallen asleep the night before.

  I stood, walked to the kitchen, and made coffee. I then took a long, very over-needed shower. Once dressed, I walked to the front door, opened it, and retrieved a weeks worth of papers from their usual spot in the bushes. Each front page was covered with the news of Eisenhower signing all kinds of civil rights legislation.

  Even though the news was immense in its day, it all seemed small and petty compared to the story I had to tell. Aliens had invaded our planet. There was actual intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, and it was obviously much more advanced than us. We were living in dangerous times and yet were unaware.

  As I scanned the papers, I thought about how we had somehow overcome our disadvantages and put an end to the aliens' exploratory mission. I then wondered if they had landed elsewhere. I began tearing through the rest of the pages looking for any little story of such.

  News of aliens would not have been buried in the back, it would have been a front-page headline. After several frustrating minutes, I had come to the conclusion there was no sign of alien anything... anywhere. Perhaps the military had encountered them, or perhaps they had selected some small backwater country and the news had just not yet leaked out.

  I badly wanted just a piece of one of those demons to hold in my hand, one I could then hold up to the world. I wanted to tell of our amazing deeds and heroics. The world needed to know. But my story would go nowhere without the backing of the others. My family and friends had clammed up when I needed them most.

  I returned to work the following day, but I left early, as I just could no longer focus. First one week and then two went by. My clients were starting to get edgy with my standoffish and distracted behavior. They had been used to my catering to their every need and to my soothing their every worry. They had been placated with one insurance package or another, sold with speeches about how they were covered and protected, or about how their investments were doing well. For several weeks, all they had received were short "yes" and "no" answers.

  A full month had gone by before I finally picked up the phone and called Bull and Allie. I sensed a bit of unease from Bull, and our conversation went nowhere. The only thing we had to discuss was our trip, and he had no interest in talking about it.

  It was driving me crazy having the knowledge I had and not being able to tell anyone. My focus and attention to those things that mattered in daily life were no longer there. I was obsessed with finding the evidence that would set my silenced story free. The call ended soon after I brought up the subject of the alien encounter and asked if he would reconsider. The answer from Kyle and Susi was the same. I was truly on my own.

  Chapter 18

  * * *

  After hanging up the phone, I made the decision to go back out west. I would hike back into the wilderness and find that bit of evidence I so desired. Once that decision was made, the life seemed to come back into me. I once again had a purpose and a desire to accomplish something. I was determined I would find a piece of the invaders, even if it took the rest of my life.

  Within the week, I had sold my business to a competitor. My home had been put on the market, and I began to liquidate all my investments. On the first of August, I boarded a plane back to Sacramento and was on my way to find my future.

  Shortly after arriving, I looked up the Sacramento outfitter Bull had partnered with. I arranged to buy enough gear for some extended hiking. I also talked him into giving me whatever outdoor training he could offer. I signed up two hiking guides to accompany me and to help with my survival. Money was no object, and the man was more than willing to help me part with my cash.

  I spent a month in Sacramento before I was ready to hit the trail. I was warned that snows would be expected soon at the higher elevations. The weather would make hiking and survival more difficult. My only concern was getting out to the wilderness, so I could scour the grounds for that one bit of treasure.

  We arrived at the Cherry Lake dam and immediately began our hike back toward Woods Ridge. We spent a day at Cherry Creek, where Minhafa had sprung past me and overturned the first demon. The guides fished, hunted small game, or just sat around camp playing cards as I moved meticulously back and forth, looking under every bush and beside every rock.

  They asked repeatedly what I was looking for so they could help. I could not say without running the risk of them thinking I was crazy and walking off the job. Besides, I felt they were best used by keeping me fed and secure while I searched for my reward. The next day we moved our camp to Woods Creek and the site where we had lured the second demon into our ambush.

 
; The results were the same as I spent the entire day combing the area for any little sign of our visitors. The spots of ground where the green fog had spread out were still largely bare. When I was asked about them, I gave no answer and continued my search.

  I had thoroughly covered each of our previous battlefields after two weeks. The guides were ready to go back to their homes, their wives, families, and lives. When we returned to Sacramento, I sat all evening in a hotel room just staring out the window at the autos going up and down the street.

  The next day I went to the nearest car dealer, purchased a used pickup truck, and then made my way by the outfitter's store. I reloaded on all my hiking and camping supplies. He once again offered two guides, and I once again accepted his price without negotiation.

  Again, two weeks came and went as we covered the same ground a second time with no luck. This time the snow was beginning to fall on the last day. I knew I would only have one more shot before having to wait until spring. On the third try we were stranded for two days by a heavy snow, bringing our excursion to an early end. I was told the high country would now be covered with the white powder until at least April. Not until then would there be enough snowmelt to show all the ground I wanted to search.

  It was a hard winter for me, just sitting around Sacramento until spring. In my boredom, I did some bookkeeping for several businesses and arranged a few insurance deals for them as well. I wasn't making enough to live off, but it kept my mind somewhat occupied as I waited for the spring thaw.

  Besides, I had loads of money in the bank after my home sold in Atlanta. I was still well off for a man in the 1950s. I spent the winter learning about survival and the back-country and studying maps. I would no longer need any guides for direction, but I would still take them along to run my camp. It would allow me to spend my time searching.

  I spent most of April through September of 1958 going over and over the places we had encountered the demons. There just did not seem to be anything to find. The snow melted and the grass grew, and the once-telltale barren spots were now lush and green with new growth.

  By the end of summer in 1958, I was going out and staying by myself for a month at a time. Come early October, the cold and the snow moved in again, crippling my search activities. I once again spent the winter months working odd jobs to make a little extra cash, as my bank account was beginning to slowly decline. That Christmas I sent Bull, Allie, Kyle, and Susi each a Christmas card. Susi and Kyle had gotten married, but I was out in the wild at the time, so I did not attempt to attend.

  My life had changed drastically since our trip out west. I had a scraggly beard growing and my hair was unkempt. The constant summer days in the sun were taking their toll on my skin. The back-country life was hard, and I had become a scrawny old stick of a man who was in constant need of a bath.

  My obsession with finding an alien artifact was all-consuming. I was becoming known around Sacramento as this crazy old guy who was searching for something that could never be found. Everyone assumed it was something I had lost, and I thought it was just as well they think it. It was my business to find it and my business alone.

  What had started out as an all-out hunt for however long it took... soon turned into fifteen years of wandering, prodding, and poking.

  My fortune had dwindled to just enough to keep paying for my room and board during the winter months and to purchase a modest amount of supplies for the summer. The physical toll on my body was much greater. During my hikes I had a number of falls. Twice I dislocated a shoulder, once I broke my lower leg, and I had numerous sprains, twists, and bruises. The scars from the rough outdoor life were now too numerous to count.

  My family history was such that the men of my stock rarely made it past fifty-five years of age. We were just not sturdy folk, as they used to say. And I had noticed that I was beginning to slow significantly in the amount of terrain I could cover during any outing.

  I had come to the conclusion I would probably die out in the wilderness alone, still searching for the one bread crumb of evidence that fed my obsession. I had been over each of the places we had encountered the demons at least a hundred times, but I was compelled to venture on.

  On one particular day in late August of 1973, I came to our camp by Laurel Lake. I sat down by the tree where I had first seen the red demon eyes and where Bull had taken his first shots at them. It was a familiar place to me, just as were all the others. As I sat, taking a break from my constant downward gaze, I noticed a swath of brush moving just behind another set of small boulders. I stretched out my hand and placed it on my bat. After fifteen years in the woods, it was still my preferred form of protection.

  Up from the brush and onto one of the boulders jumped an old, haggard-looking mountain lion. It was the first one I had seen since the one I had called Minhafa had saved me from the demon by Cherry Creek.

  The old cat just stood and looked at me for several minutes. It was then when I decided maybe I really had snapped and that I had wasted the last fifteen years wandering around the woods like a lunatic. But I could not turn back the clock. I had lost touch with my family and friends. There really was nothing to go back to. The wilderness had become my home and the searching obsession my life.

  The old cat continued to stare at me to the point where I started to grow angry. I held up my bat and waved it at the beast and shouted for it to leave. But the old cat just stood and stared. I then stood up and shouted and tried to move about in a threatening manner, but it made no difference; the old mountain lion was not impressed.

  So, I did next what any insane person would do. I charged at it with my bat raised while bellowing out one curse word after another. As I got to about thirty feet away, the old lion turned and hopped back down into the bushes and slowly loped away. I stopped in front of the boulders and watched as the tail end of the cat disappeared into the woods. I leaned over on the boulder and took a breath and wondered again if I had not gone fully mad.

  As I turned to go back to my searching, I caught the slightest reflection off something down at the base of the boulder. There... lying among some dried grass... was the item of my longtime obsession.

  At first I was in disbelief. It could not possibly be a part of the alien machines. How could the item have gotten over there when the alien had clearly fogged the rocks sixty feet away? I reached down and picked it up. My hand was trembling. This was the proof I had been looking for... for fifteen years!

  I let out a howl and danced a jig, and then let out another howl. I kept up the celebration until I had no breath left. I sat on the ground and just stared at the item for most of an hour as I relived each of our battles with the aliens over and over in my head. I thought about how heroic I had been and about how we had defeated the alien invaders with our wits, and a lot of luck.

  I guessed that at our first encounter with the red, demon eyes, when Bull had fired his .45, one of the bullets had found its mark. It had knocked the item sixty-odd feet away. I had browsed by the rocks before, but never with the extreme scrutiny I had given to the previous bare spots.

  The find was huge. I decided I would grab my pack and make haste for Sacramento. I needed to call the others. They would now have to join me, as I now had the evidence the world needed to see.

  Two days later, I reached my apartment and immediately picked up the phone. I first called Bull and Allie, but got no answer. I then called my sister and Kyle and was thrilled when someone spoke. I asked who it was and discovered it to be a ten-year-old nephew I didn't know I had. He passed the phone to Susi, who remained mostly silent as I told her of my find. Kyle was at work, and she told me I should call back that evening to talk with him.

  Susi also told me that Bull and Allie were gone on a vacation to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. She gave me a hotel number, and I called as soon as I had finished talking with her. She didn't show the excitement about the find I had hoped for— or that I had expected.

  It took me two hours of calling the ho
tel in Yellowstone before the clerk finally told me they had just checked out. They had given a forwarding address of a hotel near the Grand Tetons, where they would be for the next two days.

  As soon as I was off the phone, I packed a small bag with a change of clothes and headed outside to my truck. I stopped at the first gas station and tanked up. I purchased a road map that would take me across the Sierra Nevadas and to Salt Lake City.

  From Salt Lake I would make my way over to the Grand Tetons and to Bull and Allie's hotel. I would have half a day to spare before they were scheduled to depart. I drove all evening and through the night, arriving in Jackson, Wyoming, late the following evening.

  I pulled into a local store, got directions to their hotel, and then made my way straight there. It was after midnight when I arrived, so I decided to just stay in the lobby of the hotel until morning. As I waited, I made use of the hotel bathroom to freshen myself up. I was a mess; I smelled bad and I looked bad. The clerk at the counter had a suspicious eye that followed me through the lobby and into the bathroom.

  I took off my shirt and splashed the cold water on my face and under my arms. I then used about half of the hand towels they had available to dry myself. Finally, I put on the spare change of clothes I had brought in my bag.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, I still smelled bad and looked bad. After refusing to ring their room, the clerk maintained his watch over me as I sat in the lounge to await my friends. It only took a few minutes before I was asked to please leave the hotel if I did not have a room. So, I slept the rest of the night in my truck.

  At first light I once again entered the lobby and began my wait. It was about 8 a.m. when Bull and Allie came walking down the stairs into the lobby. They were smiling and holding hands and looking at each other as they walked. They proceeded to walk past me without taking notice.