by Simon Rosser
Tom put his arm around her. “Come on, honey. What do you want to do? Do you want me to drive us back home?” he said.
“I don’t know. I do feel bad leaving here knowing that Maddie and Conner are still out there somewhere in the forest.”
“Listen, guys. Can I make a suggestion?” Casey chimed in. “Why don’t you stay here tonight. You’ll be in the safest place in town; I’ve got a small armoury here and spare rooms upstairs. Stay the night, meet my mate, Dickie Armstrong tomorrow, and then decide what you want to do. You’re both too tired to drive all the way back now anyway. What d’ya say?”
Jess looked at Tom and shrugged.
Tom nodded. “Okay, it’s a done deal. We’ll stay here and sleep on things.”
“A very wise decision. You’ll not regret it. I know it’s terrible what happened out there, but the best remedy for your grief will be to try to find that thing and lay your friends to rest properly,” Casey said.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” Jessica said.
Tom shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Casey looked at them both. “Well, follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
CHAPTER 9
SEARCH FOR EXTRA TERESTRIAL INTELLIGENCE (SETI)
Mountain View, California.
“WHAT THE HELL do you mean the signal is being transmitted from Mount Shasta to the Moon?”
Professor Frederick Beck awkwardly scratched his beard. “That’s what the Allen Telescope Array confirms. We ran a full system check. Even NASA’s Titan supercomputer confirms what we’re seeing. There’s no doubt, a signal has been detected at the 2999 gigahertz frequency. It’s emanating from a glacial region at the base of Mount Shasta, Cobalt Ridge to be precise, which terminates in or near the Saha Impact Crater on the Moon’s far or dark side. Not only that, but a second signal has now been detected at the same location, at a frequency of 2990 gigahertz, which appears to be directed towards a region in the constellation of Cassiopeia, a main sequence star HR 8832, which is 21.25 light years from Earth,” Beck said, looking drained and worried through lack of sleep.
“You’re both kidding, right?” Frank Douglas, the tough-looking sixty-something, U.S. Military advisor said, placing his coffee cup down on the large oak table.
“I wish we were,” Dr Lucy Davies said, sucking in a deep breath. NORAD, White Sands, and one of our AWACS have now all independently confirmed the signal. We seem to be dealing with the real deal here,” she said, somewhat nervously.
“And the point source is local? You’re absolutely certain about that, Dr Davies?”
Lucy slowly nodded her head at Douglas. “As certain as we can be.”
“Jesus,” Douglas replied, burying his head in his hands momentarily. “What do we know about that star system?”
“Dr Davies shuffled the papers she had on the table in front of her. “Well, we think the star is host to a rocky super-Earth, around one point six times the size of our planet, and there are a further three exoplanets, two of which are super-Earths, which orbit within the Goldilocks zone. There’s one Jovian-type world too.”
“And by Goldilocks I assume you mean a planet that orbits its sun within the habitable zone of space, like our own Earth?”
Dr Davies nodded slowly. “That’s correct.”
Douglas sighed again, heavily. “So I assume we need to invoke the post-detection protocols?”
Beck shifted on his chair. “You’re referring to the protocols that were first drawn up in the 1980s, to help scientists in the United States and the Soviet Union share information about any potential SETI signals. The protocols were a bunch of guidelines drafted on the back of a cigarette packet over a couple of bottles of bourbon. Just guidelines for governments and scientists, rather than a global action plan for dealing with alien contact. All they basically say is, ‘if you pick up a signal, check it out, tell everybody, and don't broadcast any replies without international consultation,’ whatever that means,” he said.
“That's all the protocols say, but they’re better than nothing, and they have no force of law. The United Nations took a copy of the early protocols and filed them in a drawer somewhere, and that's as official as they ever got,” Dr Davies added.
The four of them sat in silence for a few moments.
“So, can you tell us what happens from here?” Dr Davies asked.
“Well, the president’s orders are to secure the site. Checkpoints are in the process of being set up for a one-hundred mile exclusion zone from the point source. The area needs to be off-limits to the public for now until we get an idea of what we’re dealing with,” Douglas said.
Dr Davies’ smartphone suddenly vibrated on the table. It was her intern, Martha calling. She picked it up. “Sorry, Martha, I’m a little busy right now, can this wait?”
“Sorry, I appreciate that, but I think there’s something you should know. The location we were discussing this morning. You’d better turn NCB News on right now,” she said, before hanging up.
“Problem?” Beck asked.
“Can you turn that monitor onto NCB News station, quickly,” Dr Davies said, nodding to Beck who was seated next to a large LED screen at the end of the table.
“Sure,” he said, fiddling with the black control unit.
The monitor blinked on, and Beck found the correct channel. There was a reporter talking outside some kind of hunting shop, Mount Shasta clearly visible, its peak rising out of the pine forests in the backdrop, blue sky completing the scene.
“So what we know so far is that four campers intended spending the night up at the Pine Crags Wilderness Campsite, just ten miles or so from the town of Shasta here. Details are sketchy at the moment, but It appears that it will be a night they will never forget, as two of the campers were allegedly attacked by a bear-like creature that they say might have been the legendary Bigfoot, or Sasquatch, whatever you want to call it. Now, this place is known for its mysticism and travellers here have often reported feeling odd in this area and seeing strange lights in the sky, and there have been other sightings of the creature here, but this is the first report of an actual attack by a Bigfoot. If indeed that is what we are dealing with. We don’t know very much yet, but as you can imagine, Dean, speculation is rife, and this is a story that won’t be going away anytime soon. Back to you in the studio.”
“Wow! Well, thanks, Bernie, we sure will be keeping track as that story develops,” Dean Duncan, the news anchor said, as the report ended.
The four scientists looked at the monitor, and then each other in stunned silence.
“This can’t be happening, can it? I mean the signal and now this. A Bigfoot sighting – at the same location and time?” she said, in disbelief.
The military advisor shook his head. “Well, this really causes us problems. Any attempt to keep this entire thing low- key and people away from the area has been screwed up by this damn bullshit.”
Lucy Davies shrugged and felt herself smirking. The entire thing was incredible. As if detecting a signal emanating from a glacial area of a mountain here on Earth, to the Moon and beyond to a star system twenty-one light years away wasn’t enough. Now they had to deal with a Bigfoot sighting, an actual attack on some campers by such a creature, and all on the same day. Jeez, she loved her job, but her head was thumping.
“Okay, well we need to get back to Washington,” the NASA scientist who’d been taking notes said, as he looked at his colleague, Frank Douglas.
Douglas grimaced. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know more, but from experience, this thing is going to get hot. Once the public are aware of what’s going on, things could get quickly out of control. There’ll be a lot of freaks out on the streets, doomsday placards, and all that stuff. We need to contain this story, try to avoid any panic and play this thing down until we know exactly what we’re dealing with,” Douglas said, as the pair of them grabbed their folders from the table and left the room.
Lucy looked at her colle
ague, Professor Beck. “Wow, come on, let’s go to try and find out when the expedition to the glacier is going to take place. NASA and the government won’t want to waste too much time getting this thing checked out,” she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
CHAPTER 10
September 18
TOM SLIPPED OUT of bed and headed into the bathroom where he quickly shaved off four days-worth of stubble from his face, before jumping in the shower. He towelled himself dry, pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean, light blue cotton shirt, and crept out of the bedroom, leaving Jessica to sleep for a while longer.
Downstairs, Casey was already up, and in the process of sorting through items of equipment that he’d placed into small piles on the floor. Tom could see hunting knives, flares, camping equipment, and rifles with high-powered scopes. Casey sat down as Tom entered the room and started cleaning the reloading mechanism of one of the weapons, when he heard Tom and looked up. “Howdy! Did you sleep well, buddy?”
“Yeah thanks. I woke myself with a bad dream, but apart from that, I slept like a baby.”
“Not surprised that you had nightmares after what you witnessed buddy. Anyway, I'm just getting some supplies ready. The Brits are paying for all this, so I sure as hell ain’t going to hold back. Dicky and his team will be here in a few hours. We'll try to set off around lunchtime, so we can get up to the mountain before the government have time to set up proper security check points,” he said, grinning.
“Morning,” came Jessica’s sleepy voice, from the archway just behind them, a moment later.
Tom turned to see her standing in her pyjamas, her blonde hair hanging messily, but sexily, across her forehead.
“Hey there, are you okay? I just came down. Didn’t want to wake you,” Tom said, walking over and kissing her on her lips.
“I’ll get the wife to rustle you guys up some breakfast,” Casey said, locking and unlocking the loading mechanism on the shotgun, with a satisfying clunk. "I was just telling Tom we aim to leave around noon, as I’m sure you guys could do with a big breakfast. It's probably going to be late afternoon before we get the chance to eat again,” he said, placing the gun onto the counter.
“Sounds good,” Tom said.
Jessica nodded. “I’ll go take a shower then.”
After breakfast, Tom asked Casey’s wife if she could bury his smartphone in a pot of rice for a few hours. The brief spell at the police station hadn’t been long enough to dry it out, or so he hoped. Casey’s wife gave him a funny look, but carried out his request. He and Jessica then headed back to the room. It was still only 8.45 a.m.
Through the bedroom window, Tom could see the peak of Mount Shasta glistening in the early morning cloudless sky. However his gaze was suddenly distracted by a dark shape coming along the street below. He looked down and saw a dark green truck drive past, its noisy diesel engine spluttering black smoke as it headed up the road towards the camping area.
“Jeez, the military are here already,” he muttered to Jess, as the truck rounded the bend and vanished up the mountain road.
Not long after the military vehicle had passed, Tom was outside studying the now very fake-looking Bigfoot model standing near the entrance to the store, when two brand-new looking Mercedes trucks pulled up onto the kerb and parked up. Large, bright yellow and blue lettering on the side confirmed the vehicles identity - Channel Five Productions, U.K.
A stocky chap in his mid-thirties, with short, blond hair and a friendly, trusting face jumped out, stretched his arms, and yawned; “Wakey, wakey,” he said, either to himself, or another as yet unseen occupant inside the van.
He noticed Tom and walked over. “Hey, I'm Armstrong, Richard Armstrong. Say, you’re not Tom Bishop, the guy involved in the grizzly bear-come-Bigfoot attack?” he asked, matter-of-factly.
“Um, yes, that’s me. Well, it was my friends who were taken, I witnessed the attack,” Tom said.
“Un-bloody-believable. Great to meet you Tom. I’m here courtesy of good old Channel Five. Where you from? I'm from Wales, lived in Penarth all my life,” Armstrong said.
“Really? Well I was born in Cardiff, but lived in London for eight years, and have been over here the last four.”
“Fantastic! I heard you studied physics at MIT? Perfect, lends an air of credibility to the documentary,” Armstrong said, excitedly.
As he spoke, a tired looking brunette jumped out of the passenger side of the van.
“Meet Alicia, Alicia John, our make-up and lighting assistant,” Armstrong said.
Tom smiled at Alicia, reached out and shook her hand.
“Hi Tom, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, yawning. “Excuse me, but I'm bloody knackered."
“Guys, I know you've come all the way out here to make a documentary on what happened, but this isn’t a joke. I'm a pretty open minded guy, but I still can’t get to grips with what happened last night, and you sure as hell won't need any makeup up there,” Tom said.
Alicia pulled a face. “We always need make-up. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, boss,” she said, looking at Armstrong, and jumping back into the truck.
“Don't worry, Tom; we're taking this stuff very seriously too. That’s why I made sure I got over here as quickly as possible. We're here to make a documentary not a B-Movie.”
At that moment a skinny, scruffy-looking kid with unkempt, ginger hair jumped out the back of the other truck, wearing torn jeans and a lumber-jack shirt. He looked excited and came running over to where the three of them were standing.
“Hey boss, boss, you’re never going to guess what I just picked up. As you know, we’ve been eavesdropping on the U.S. Military radio channel to keep tabs on the security situation and...”
“Calm down, Bruce. This is Tom. Tom was involved in the attack last night. Tom, meet Bruce, my computer geek and general all-round tech wizard. Anything goes wrong, Bruce can fix it,” Armstrong smirked.
Bruce reached for Tom’s hand. “Ah, Tom, yes, very nice to meet you. I’m very sorry to hear about what happened to your friends up there. Unbelievable, but then there’s lots of weird, unbelievable crap going on around here right now.”
“So what did you find out, Bruce?” Armstrong asked, interrupting.
“Well, more weird shit really. Apparently, they’ve now detected some kind of signal that is being transmitted from the mountain to the Moon!” Bruce said, his eyes darting between Armstrong and Tom.
“Say that again, who’s detected what?” Tom asked, his head starting to spin a little.
“Well, I just heard a conversation on the military channel I was tuned into. They were discussing a signal that SETI organisation, you know, the search for E.T., has detected, apparently originating from the mountain here and terminating on the Moon! I mean, how freaky is that with all this other crap that’s going on?”
“Have you recorded the conversations?” Tom asked, intrigued.
“Damn right we have,” Bruce said, looking at his boss.
“Well done, Bruce. Keep us informed, sounds interesting. We could include it in the story,” Armstrong said.
“Okay, I’ll get back to it, boss. Let me know when we’re due to leave, as I’ll want a wash and change of clothes before we head off,” Bruce said, heading back over to the parked truck.
“Knowing a bit about your background, that must be of interest to you eh, Tom,” Armstrong winked.
“The whole thing is crazy. Doesn’t make sense, but if what I just heard is fact, then it’s even more incredible than the events of the night on the mountain. I need to make some calls. See if any of my colleagues know anything about this,” Tom said.
“Okay, where’s my pal, Casey, is he up and about?” Armstrong asked.
“Yep, follow me. He’s getting the supplies for the trip ready,” Tom said, as they both walked into the store.
CHAPTER 11
THE TWO MERCEDES trucks pulled away from Casey’s store forecourt, following two black Tacoma’s, one being driven by Casey and
the other by his son, Arran. Tom and Jessica were in the vehicle being driven by Arran. Tom glanced back at the store, now closed until they returned. The stuffed animals outside, including the fake ‘Sally’ Sasquatch, appeared to watch them leave, as if bidding them all good luck.
“I can’t believe we’re going back up there,” Jessica said, expelling a little shiver as she snuggled up to Tom in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. You know you didn’t have to come with me, but I just can’t let this go. What happened the other night was one thing, but now the detection of some kind of signal, if true, is something entirely different. There’s no way I can’t not investigate this further,” Tom said.
“I know,” Jessica whispered, accepting the situation.
Tom pulled out his smartphone, now working again after the rice trick, which must have absorbed whatever remained of the Sacramento River following his swim the night before, and checked the screen. There were no unread messages. He’d called his friend, Gerry, from MIT earlier, to ask him if he’d heard anything. Apart from the newsflash about the alleged Bigfoot attack, which was making the rounds, no mention had been made of any mystery signal mentioned by Bruce.
As expected, Gerry had been intrigued, and would try to find out what he could.
The Tacoma’s accelerated up the mountain road towards the campsite, followed by Richard Armstrong and the Channel Five film crew in the Mercedes trucks. The Sacramento River flowed lazily on their right, hiding the horror and mystery of the events from the night before. The pine forests of the National Park, home to more than just trees, deer, stags, and bear it seemed, stretched out either side of the road in a carpet of green.
A crackling voice erupted from the dashboard of the truck, and Arran yanked a radio that was attached to a bendy cable from the dashboard. “Good old-fashioned VHF CB,” he said, answering the handset. “There’s a military roadblock eleven miles ahead? Okay, Pa, so I’ll follow you then,” Arran said, replacing the CB.
