Event (event group thrillers)

by David L. Golemon

  "Well, that's got to please everyone from the president on down," Mendenhall said.

  "Just what are you guys doing out there? You helping look for those bikers and state troopers?" Julie asked, hands on her hips.

  Before Ryan or Mendenhall could think of what answer to give her, a thunderous roar filled the interior of the bar. Mirrors shook and glasses clinked and chimed as Juan and Carmella, who had been dusting around the green-felt-covered pool tables, turned and grabbed for Julie's antique storm lamps. Then the two cleaning people crossed themselves and cowered in the far corner by the dance floor.

  Ryan swallowed the last drop of coffee in his cup and threw two twenty-dollar bills on the counter, then stood.

  "Thank you, ma'am, it was delicious. Have to go to work now," he shouted over the noise. "I'll stop back by if that's alright with you, I like the way you cook." Ryan turned and followed the sergeant out the front door.

  Julie ran to the window and watched the two men climb into a Humvee. The vehicle tore out of the parking area and headed out of town. She shook her head in amazement at the forwardness of Ryan, but pleased for some reason, she had to smile as the noise that surrounded the small town continued to grow louder. Then she looked to the right and left and saw both patrons and owners alike empty out into the street eager to find out what was shaking their quiet world on this Sunday morning.

  The ten U.S. Air Force personnel Ryan had left on the highway one mile out of town had been busy. They had placed blue and white strobe lights every ten feet on both sides of the highway, and they were now flashing brightly. They were similar to the ones seen at any airport. This part of the highway had been picked for its flatness as there were no large dips, and it looked as if it would bear up under the excessive weight that was to be placed upon it. As Ryan and Mendenhall pulled up, an army specialist from the Event Group staff ran forward and saluted. Ryan returned the salute as he scanned the sky overhead. The security man was wearing a regular army BDU so he would blend in and wouldn't be asked any questions about his real outfit.

  "All ready?" Ryan asked.

  "Yes, sir, so far no one has entered the landing zone. But we do have a report from a Kiowa scout ship of a state police car heading this way from a dirt road about three miles to the east," the specialist said. "And three news helicopters out of Phoenix coming in from the west. The Apaches won't be here to intercept, sir. They just left Fort Carson and Fort Hood two hours ago."

  Suddenly the first giant C-130 Hercules filled the sky, rising over a small hill two hundred yards in front of them. The huge C-130 banked sharply, its left wing seemingly only feet from the top of the rise, and at that moment it suddenly straightened and brought its nose down. Jason had never witnessed an air force combat landing before. The plane was down to a hundred feet before the nose came up. The landing gear exploded downward out of its belly as the wings of the giant plane caught the air. It flared, bringing the nose up suddenly, and the wheels chirped loudly as the "Herky" bird came into contact with the hot macadam of the roadway. The noise increased as the pitch on the sixteen propeller blades was reversed and the flaps popped high on the wing, further braking the great aircraft and slowing it even more. The rear ramp was coming down just as the plane hit the ground, and the brakes screamed as it came to a stop.

  Immediately troops of the 101st Airborne Division ran deliberately down the ramp carrying equipment and weapons. Ryan was approached by a man wearing a tan desert BDU. His helmet was the same Kevlar German-type Ryan himself had been wearing the night before.

  "You Lieutenant Ryan?" the man yelled over the noise of the aircraft.

  "Yes, sir." Ryan saluted.

  "Lieutenant Colonel Sam Fielding, 101st Airborne advance recon unit," the man said, returning the salute. "I'll tell you right now, mister, I was only authorized ten percent of my manpower for this, and they claim security reasons. Now I expect someone to explain."

  They both turned as the thirty-five men of the first unit moved away from the Hercules, followed by a Humvee that shot down the ramp, its fifty-caliber machine gun and TOW missile launcher strapped down for safety while in transport. The plane suddenly revved its four engines to a high-pitched whistling whine while the pilot applied the brakes. Then when the engines were at full power, he released the brakes and the Hercules started its turnout roll. It quickly came up to speed with an assist from eight rockets and was in the air in less than 150 feet, climbing steeply into the sky.

  "Colonel Fielding, you can get your men settled just over there, sir. We don't know the full story yet, but my on-site commander is Major Collins, U.S. Army," Ryan said, holding his black helmet against the thrust of the departing Hercules.

  "Jack? They have Jack Collins in on this?" the colonel asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  The man looked around and spit onto the roadway. "Take me to him, young lieutenant," Fielding said. "If Collins is here, then the real skit's here."

  ***

  The two state troopers were spent after their long night out at the Tahchako ranch counting slaughtered cattle and trying to find out what had killed them.

  "Say, what's this?" Dills asked.

  Two men appeared in the middle of the road, rifles slung on their shoulders. They wore black and had the same color baseball caps on their heads.

  "I don't know, but I smell military," Wasser said from the driver's seat.

  The two troopers reached down and unsnapped the straps holding their automatics in their holsters. They stopped a few feet in front of the two waving men.

  Wasser opened the door and stepped from the car.

  "What's this?" he asked loudly to thefirst soldier.

  "Sir, we have an airplane about to utilize this roadway."

  "The hell you say!" Wasser replied, not too gently. His sense of humor had left with the thousandth mangled cow part he had viewed the night before.

  "Sir?" the soldier asked.

  "We can't be havin' planes coming down on state highways, boy," Dills chimed in, puffing his chest out.

  The two soldiers looked at each other, then hurriedly moved to the side of the road and knelt down holding their hats.

  "Ain't you hearing me, boy? We're not allowing any planes to come down on this or any other highway in this state," Dills said, sunglasses reflecting the morning sun.

  "Yes, sir, we heard," the first soldier said.

  The two state troopers were suddenly knocked off-balance, and they grabbed the open doors of their cruiser to keep from being thrown face-first into the roadway. Their hats flew from their heads and they dove to the hot asphalt when the noise hit them full force. A windstorm blew sand and scrub brush against their bodies and rocked their cruiser as the giant C-130 touched down two hundred feet in front of them.

  After the strangest night shift of his life, Trooper Dills had reached a point where any more input would just swirl around in his mind and not take hold anywhere.

  "Jesus Christ, how can I put all this in a report?" Wasser yelled.

  But Dills was already up and climbing into the police cruiser, mentally clocking out for the day.

  The News 7 chopper was speeding to the scene at Chato's Crawl. The word was out that the army, in conjunction with the State of Arizona, was quarantining the town and closing the airspace within a hundred miles. The race was on to get there before they could enforce it.

  As reporter Ken Kashihara watched from the backseat of the newsroom's Kiowa helicopter, he saw below them the blue-and-white Channel 4 bird slightly ahead of them.

  "Goddammit, Sydney, I thought you said we were the only ones up in the air. Look at that asshole," Kashihara said, pointing down. "That's that Janice Mitchell bitch from News 4. If I lose an exclusive to her one more time, it's your ass!"

  As the pilot started to tell Kashihara to go screw himself, the helicopter was buffeted so hard he thought he'd lost the entire tail boom. He fought to maintain control of the Kiowa as a giant C-130's tail section screamed over them, and then they
saw the Hercules turn for the roadway outside Chato's Crawl.

  "Goddammit, you see that, you almost got us killed. And for what? Because you got an inferiority complex about that chick from Channel Four!" the pilot said loudly into his mike.

  Kashihara was bone-white after the near collision with the Hercules. He looked at the pilot shakily. "Just get me to that town, and watch the fucking road!"

  The cavern was from an ancient underground river that had dried up a thousand years before the creature's arrival. It was spacious, and here the beast had chosen to nest. Meat was stored all around the huge cavern, and the smell of blood was heavy as the beast made its way to the birthing chamber where she had collected water. Her distended belly was ripe with the offspring that were only moments away from taking in the food she had waiting for them. They would be born starving.

  The beast roared as the first dilation of her exoskeleton began. The thick armor plate protecting the animal's reproductive organs split with a loud crack and widened with a sickening ripping noise reminiscent of tearing paper. The creature slammed its claws into the side of the rock-lined chamber and roared again. Her legs buckled at the knees and she squatted, bringing the dripping birthing orifice close to the water that lay beneath. Slime dripped from the opening, creating a natural lubricant for the young as they fought their way out. The beast screamed and slammed her massive claws again into the rock as the first of the new generation slowly slid out. The purple mass fell free of the mother and into the water below. The hardened eggshell of the baby sizzled as it began to expand. This egg was already cracked open and had the remains of one of the small animals sticking out of it, being eaten by the occupant of the egg. Another fell; again its shell hissed and cracked. The first baby, free of its shell, was already attacking the second egg as the mother reached down and slapped it away. It flew completely clear of the water and next to the gathered food. She would have to repeat this a hundred times in the next hour as she pushed the newborns toward the stored food.

  The last of the offspring was the most difficult because of how large it was. By instinct the mother understood that if the creature wasn't expelled quickly, it would eat its way free, thus killing her. The single male left inside was the largest of the offspring and the last to be born. It would be killed by the mother to keep it from mating with other females in the hatching cycle because she carried enough eggs for millions upon millions of generations, and the male she had originally mated with had been enough to fertilize her eggs--she'd synthesized more sperm after her initial mating, copying the cells that were needed to reproduce. But if this male lived, it would kill everything in its path to protect this cycle of females until they too gave birth, to its offspring. It would kill her because she carried and copied another's sperm.

  Even the small beings of which Gus's new friend was a part didn't understand the true nature of the horror that they had brought. The beast crushed her clawed hand into her abdomen and tried desperately to expel the male. The small creature was clawing and ripping at her insides until she finally reached into herself and grabbed it. She brought the struggling male up to view. Its shell had already been shed and it had started to form what would become its armor. Its neck armor was already intact and merely held to its neck by a mucous membrane that would soon dissolve. It snapped and hissed at the mother as she roared and tossed the creature hard into the wall of the cave, but failed to kill it.

  The two-foot-long male struck the rough wall and immediately gained its feet. It snatched at a female and took it into its claws. It started devouring it even as the mother slapped at it, knocking it farther away into the darkness. Then she started screaming and throwing mutilated cattle toward it.

  The male saw its parent in the darkness as it started in on the bloody meat. The yellow and greenish tinted eyes never left its current threat, the mother.

  For the next few hours, as the animals grew and learned their abilities, the real Destroyer ate and grew faster, and it continued to stare with hatred at its parent, only shifting its gaze to the others if they came too near it. And coming near it was the last thing its siblings ever did. Soon they would gather around him and him alone, forsaking the parent that had brought them into this world. Then the work of devouring all life on this world would commence.

  PART SIX

  THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

  Riders on the storm, into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown...

  -- THE DOORS

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Superstition Mountains, Arizona

  July 9, 10.00 Hours

  After shaking hands and quickly catching up, Jack explained Fielding's mission. He took it well that he was here in an unofficial capacity of "advisement" only, and that he would have to take orders from a major. He didn't bat an eye as Jack led him to a table to sign an extensive secrecy and nondisclosure form.

  Fielding looked at Jack and rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Just who in the hell are you working for, Jack?"

  Collins held the colonel's gaze a moment; an unvoiced answer seemed to flow between the two officers.

  "Why, the same man you work for," he finally said.

  "Got it, don't ask."

  Jack nodded.

  Collins entered the tent with Colonel Sam Fielding close behind. The colonel had taken the rest of Jack's briefing without batting an eye, only commenting, "Should have fucking known the government was covering up at Roswell."

  Sam's element of 101st would be split to secure the town for the quarantine cover story and Site One security. That would free up the Event Group personnel and the Delta/Ranger contingent for tunnel teams. Jack had all of the incoming troops sign secrecy and nondisclosure orders, basically assuring the government they would have to keep their mouths shut forever.

  The two men put on surgical masks as they stepped through the makeshift autopsy area. They were met by a staff doctor and shown the way into the examination area of the spacious army tent. There were several of the strange metallic boxes found at the crash site. Teams were using small tools, brushes, and cotton swabs as they gathered minute samples from the containers. To the left was a paneled-off area with a large see-through window that showed teams inside working with other high-tech gear, but most were bent over microscopes.

  "Hello, Jack," Denise Gilliam said as she walked up and removed her surgical gloves.

  "Denise, this is Colonel Sam Fielding. He and I served together in the Gulf a million years ago. Colonel, Dr. Denise Gilliam, our chief forensics pathologist."

  The colonel and the doctor shook hands.

  "What have you got so far, Doc?" Collins asked.

  Gilliam turned and took in the scene around them. "Well, we have collected the DNA samples of over three hundred different species of alien life in these twenty-seven containers," she said, then saw the look of confusion on their faces. "We believe the containers are like cargo bins, they get used over and over. We also know they were empty on this particular trip, as none of them have any recent bodily material inside of them. We have sent off slides and specimens by fighter jet to Helicos BioSciences in Cambridge. But as I was saying, the cages were empty."

  "All of them?" the colonel asked.

  She looked at Jack, who nodded his head for her to continue. "No, sir, we have one here that was occupied upon impact." She gestured to a large crate that was mangled and torn apart. "We were successful in collecting DNA of a species of creature that is not found on this planet." She placed a hand on the ripped-open section of the metal container. "We've found hair, or what we would consider hair. Actually it's more like a porcupine quill. We believe it's part of this particular animal's sensory input mechanics as the follicles on the ends have bits of nerve ending on them. Now we're running the samples again to be positive of the results, but what it looks like is that whatever was shipped in this container is anatomically different from any life-form we know of."

  "How do you mean?" Jack asked.

  Denise turned and
walked over to the window and looked in on the other pathologists, who were busily working alongside the paleontologists. "Its atomic structure is out of whack" she said, looking away into the area her team was working. "It shouldn't be able to exist," she said with awe in her drifting voice.

  "I don't follow," Fielding said.

  "It means its body should sink right to the core of this planet, Colonel. Its structure is so dense it shouldn't be able to live on this world, or any others that our space probes have reached thus far."

  "Can you expand on that?" Collins said.

  "I'll try, gentlemen. Have you ever tossed a rock into a lake and watched it fall once in the water?"

  They both gave a quick nod.

  "Well, that's what this creature would be able to do here on this world. The ground would be like water is to you or me. It would literally be capable of swimming through our soil."

  "You mean it can tunnel or dig?" asked the colonel.

  Gilliam looked at him for a moment in thought. "The atomic structure of this animal is not like ours and everything around us. You see, every atom that makes us or even the ground we stand on, or the furniture you sit on, is always in motion to some degree. One atom spins around another, that spins around yet another, never connecting but giving the illusion of being a solid to the naked eye. This animal is made up of atoms that are attached to each other in groupings of eight and ten, no single atoms like us, thus its structure is far more solid than our own. So, no, not tunnel or dig, Colonel. It would be able to run or whatever it does in the ground a lot faster than we can walk or run in our own atmosphere. I just used water as an example for lack of a better example. In our air or aboveground if you will, it would be eight or maybe even as much as ten times faster than we are. Just conjecture at this point because it being here and living is still, at least according to our science and universe, an impossibility."