by Gary Striker
“Nothing”, Mike answered, “Did you guys hear anything?”
In a confused voice, Gary muttered, “I must be losing my mind, gentlemen. I could have sworn I heard somebody talking, but it made no sense and sounded weird”.
Bob interjected, “I thought Cheyenne was mumbling to himself”.
Cheyenne brought the group back to reality. “Boys, if we don’t get busy clearing this trail, we’re going to be here a long time”.
Cheyenne and Mike cranked chainsaws and got to work. In a short time, the former loggers had a dozen trees chopped up and moved off the trail.
Jim threw the last branch on the heap and looked to the sky.
“We have a front moving in from the north, guys. It’s clouding up in a hurry. The temperature dropped five degrees since we got here”. Jim closed his down vest and contemplated the plan of attack. “We need to get down to the lake and check out the place before this weather gets nasty”.
Mike stammered in an uneasy fashion, “This place feels weird. Something around here is out of order. It’s giving me the creeps”.
“Cheyenne took control, “Let’s saddle up and make tracks. We have another hour at least to make it to the lake if the trail is kind to us”. “Wuttabout that thing”, Mike asked, pointing to the remains”?
“Forget it”, Cheyenne answered, “we have bigger fish to fry. Get it, huh Mike”?
The five riders proceeded on down across an escarpment to Ben Lake with only minor trail clearing duties. It was a beautiful place to be at the peak of the autumn season. Huge Red Maple leaves mixed with Aspen were now raining down upon the riders as the winds picked up. The leaves covered the trail with a soft carpet. Cheyenne came to a halt at the precipice to the last slide down to the lake shore, merely a quarter mile ahead through the dense stand of tall Beech and Cedar trees. He proceeded to remove his jacket and stow it behind the seat.
Mike wiped his brow. “Goddam, fellas, it’s like a bake oven down here”.
Jim changed direction, “Cheyenne, when was the last time you drove ten miles through the Allagash and saw nothing. No deer, no moose, no bears, not even a squirrel”.
“Never, Jim. I was wondering the same thing. The Moose don’t hardly care if you kick ‘em in the butt”.
Bob added, “The deer watering area is just below us. It’s always loaded with the herds this time of year. Hell, they’re gettin’ half-crazy from the upcoming Rut and wouldn’t pay no mind to us”. Bob looked perplexed.
The peak of the Rut, or breeding season, usually happens toward the beginning of November in very northern Maine. The animals begin their inbred and uncontrollable rituals at the close of the summer season. Moose and bear can become extremely aggressive, not to mention the hoof pounding of the large male Whitetails, should anyone invade their territory. The remaining velvet coating of the antlers only adds to their level of irritation and crazy state of mind.
A watering area in the Allagash is a protected sanctuary for wildlife. Defined boundaries around bodies of water protect such areas from logging, encroachment, or otherwise destruction of the natural lay of the land. Ben Lake is part of an interconnected system of lakes and tributaries extending for miles and buried deep in the wilderness. Native Brook Trout grow so large that they resemble salmon and then die from old age. Scattered signs of human habitation can be found, such as spring jaw trap chains in-grown into the trees that they were attached to a hundred years ago. Pieces of pottery are common in the formerly habitated settlements. Most signs of man’s presence have long since disappeared.
Mike removed two layers of sweat shirts and wiped his brow. “Hell, I’m gonna plant some palm trees down here. Christ, it’s hot! I always wanted to live on an island paradise. It’ll be a new vacation concept for Maine”.
All the guys removed their top layers down to their T-shirts.
Cheyenne looked puzzled and asked, “Do you guys smell fish?”
“Yeah”, Bob added, “It smells like those clam things, you know, the mussels that the Otters fish for”.
“It stinks like a fish setting on a woodstove”, Bob countered.
“What the hell is going on around here, guys”, Mike asked nervously?
“I have no clue”, Cheyenne answered, “but we need to damn well find out. Let’s get down to the lake”!
“Guys, I gotta make a pit stop”, Mike stated as he headed to a secluded latrine in the woods a short distance away. “That damn stinking fish smell is giving me a bad stomach. I wish I had some of them palm leaves I’m gonna plant down here”.
Cheyenne was compelled to offer his advice, “How about some of this poison ivy”, Cheyenne asked as he pointed to a stand of the plants?
Gary had a frown of questionable sanity pasted on his face. “Guys, poison ivy doesn’t grow here. I don’t think you can find this stuff north of Millinocket”.
“Then what the hell is it doing here”, Jim asked?
Gary looked perplexed, “It beats the shit outa me. I’ve never seen this stuff in the Allagash. Look at it, it’s everywhere”!
Cheyenne pointed off into the woods in the direction that Mike headed.
Gary stared and commented, “What the...it looks like a blue haze. It’s swirling around in the trees”.
Cheyenne shouted into the trees, “Mike, you ok? Hey Mike, where the heck are ya”?
Cheyenne, Gary, Bob, and Jim stood in silence waiting for a reply.
Gary broke the quiet zone, grabbed his rifle and readied it, and took off in the direction of the blue haze.
“Mike, answer me! Now, ya son of a bitch”!
The group followed suit and took stride behind Gary as Cheyenne headed to the left side of the haze near a ponding area.
Cheyenne knew the woods as well as he knew his own house. “Hold on guys”, he said, “Let me have a look over here. I thought I saw something”.
The threesome slowed and turned in Cheyenne’s direction.
“Something’s been here and gone”, Cheyenne shouted, “There’s no sign of tracks of any kind, but the trees have been smashed down like before. Mike, are you hearing me? Mike”! No response.
Jim brought the group to attention, “Look there, the haze, it’s turned green and swirling around in the other direction. What the hell are those things in the haze?
Gary raised his high power 30-06 Remington BDL and focused into the green cloud.
“Hold on, Gary”, Bob said, “You might hit Mike or Cheyenne.”
“No worry, I’m not going to fire, just wanna get a view through the scope”, Gary responded as his attention was aimed into the woods along with his shoulder cannon.
Jim was busy filming full motion video with his digital camera, “Do you feel it, guys? The pressure?”
Gary side-stepped the conversation, “There’s something moving, there, up in the trees, also”. Everyone gazed skyward as the haze again changed color to a deep red with orang e outlines.
“My ears hurt”, Bob stated as he held his palms to his head, “watch out, here comes that Birch tree”.
A tall white Birch, plentiful in the Allagash, crashed within ten feet of the group as they scrambled to get out of the way.
“Stay back”, Cheyenne shouted from somewhere on the other side of the cloud haze, get out of here, run”!
The ground shook, the air shook as the visual scene distorted, and the sky became flame red.
“Shit, we’re gonna get fry-babied”, Gary shouted as everyone made tracks and dove for shelter.
Jim still managed to point his camera behind him as he scrambled into a depression behind a boulder. A deafening roar and an explosion obliterated the woods, then silence.
Everyone cautiously arose and surveyed the landscape.
“Everybody ok”, Jim asked? The guys inspected each other for battle damage.
”I think so”, Gary said, “Look, there’s Cheyenne! What’s he got?”
As Cheyenne approached, Jim added, “It looks like Mike’s jacket, or what�
�s left of it.”
Cheyenne joined the threesome.
“Yup”, Gary affirmed, “that’s Mike’s North Face. He never leaves home without it”, adding a familiar pun, “It looks like it’s been through a meat grinder”.
“Where did you find this, Cheyenne, and what’s that hunk of shiny crap on it”, Jim asked?
“Cheyenne grinned, “I took it off one of them slimy glow-tube varmints with the funky lights coming out of his head. I chopped off a piece of his hide with my KBar. He wasn’t a happy camper. That’s when the shit hit the fan”.
The group stood in silence staring at Cheyenne, then at each other.
“Cheyenne, have you been nipping that cheap shit vodka”, Bob asked, “or did you finish the bottle?
“Christ, Cheyenne, you smell like shit”, Jim added.
“More like dead fish”, Gary corrected.
Jim focused on Cheyenne, “Where’s Mike”?
Gary regressed, “Cheyenne, are you telling us that you were in a knife fight with a Martian”?
Jim regained control, “Gentlemen, settle down, we have more questions than we have answers. For Christ’s Sake, let’s get it together or none of us are going to get the hell out of here. Let’s find Mike. We gotta find Mike, NOW”!
The guys hustled back toward the wooded area that a few minutes ago was engulfed with some unexplained energy source.
“Goddamm, it’s friggin’ cold”, Gary grumbled as everyone stopped to stare at the T-shirt clad squad with light snowflakes falling around them.
“Shit, let’s get our jackets, Jim instructed, “Before we freeze our butts”.
Everyone redressed for the occasion and settled into the business at hand.
“Find Mike”! Jim addressed the group with authority, “Cheyenne, you lead center forward and we’ll join on your flanks. I want everybody armed, but goddammit, don’t shoot unless you need to, and that doesn’t include my ass”.
“Don’t tempt me, big guy”, Gary returned with a Cheyenne smirk. “Keep your eye out for anything, gentlemen, and that includes upstairs”. Everyone glanced into the trees above.
The group moved cautiously toward what was left of the wooded area, five across.
“Don’t get too far apart”, Cheyenne instructed, “We don’t want to miss anything”. As they approached the area, residual heat and singed trees surrounded them.
“Hey guys”, Gary yelled, “I found Mike’s boot, or at least a piece of it, I think”.
“Keep moving”, Cheyenne instructed, “don’t miss anything and don’t forget to look up”. “This place looks like the bombing range out at Ajo after an A-10 exercise”.
The southern Arizona area near Ajo contains four of the Barry Goldwater bombing ranges, extending all the way from Gila Bend to Yuma. The A-10 Warthog squadrons from Davis Monthan AFB used it frequently. It was not a hospitable environment.
“What the hell is that”, Bob shouted, pointing into the trees overhead? “It looks like a rifle sling, with what’s left of Mike’s rifle.
“Let me see if I can climb up and get it”, Gary said as he approached the tree, “Come here Jim, gimme a lift”.
Gary made his way up into a parched Aspen tree about twenty feet in the air with the agility of a gymnast.
“I didn’t think you could get your fat ass of the ground”, Cheyenne commented.
“Come over here, Cheyenne”, Gary fired back, “I wouldn’t want to drop this on your head.”
The tension broke and everyone settled in to the task at hand, finding Mike. A portion of Mike’s rifle barrel along with a piece of shoulder strap was all that was left. Cheyenne took the weapon for inspection, sniffing the barrel.
“This rifle was recently fired. The breech looks like it was sawed off with a cutting torch”.
“Holy shit”, Bob added, “I didn’t hear any gun shots”.
“Mike kept that rifle cleaner than his kitchen dishes”, Jim commented, “He must have just fired it”.
The woods were scoured with nothing else to show for their efforts, including Mike.
“Now what are we gonna do”, Gary asked, looking at Jim? “Here’s what we have, guys. We’re going to need a vote. We searched thoroughly for fifty yards around this site. We came up with next to nothing. If Mike was able to contact us, he would have. We have everything we need to stay the night and we look to be in good shape. Here’s the problem; we don’t know what we’re dealing with. These woods can again turn into a dangerous place to be, not knowing what’s going on down at the Lake. I don’t want to be around for a repeat performance”.
“We don’t have too many choices”, Bob added, “We only have about an hour of sunlight left. There’s not much that we can search for in the black night. I say that we make our way out and get regrouped. We can return tomorrow with everything we need and additional help.”
“Hold on guys”, Jim said, “We need to take a vote. Understand that we don’t know what happened to Mike. We don’t know how he is or where he is. For all we know, he could be wondering around in a disoriented daze looking for us. For sure he’s lost and we don’t have a clue as to where he is. We’ll be abandoning him, but I believe that the risk is far greater if we all stay. Who’s in favor of heading back”?
Everyone raised their hands and Cheyenne added, “Let’s leave his lantern on for the night. If he sees the light, at least he has what he needs to set up camp and feed himself”. Cheyenne reached for the lantern and turned it on. “This is one of those new L.E.D. lights. It will stay on for three days before the batteries quit”.
“Put it up in that tree next to his A.T.V. where he can reach it”, Gary suggested, “That will light up the area pretty good”. Cheyenne cut a branch with his KBar knife and hoisted the lantern. “That ought to do the trick”, Cheyenne said confidently.
“Yeah”, Gary said, “I wonder what else it will attract”?
“Saddle up, boys, let’s get out of here”, Jim ordered. Nobody argued, but everyone had the hollow gut blues.
“Son of a bitch”, Gary said in disgust as he brought his A.T.V. to life, “I can’t believe we’re leaving him behind. There’s something very wrong with this. You never leave a man behind”. Everyone looked at Gary with pangs of guilt.
Jim jumped in, “Boys, we lost one of our own to the most goddam unbelievable thing I ever saw in my life. We’re not losing anybody else if I can help it”.
The machines fired and everyone gave a thumbs up to Cheyenne. The convoy headed east, back up the same access trail. As they approached the site of the fallen trees and the mystery carcass, Cheyenne brought the convoy to a halt and looked back.
“Anybody wanna have another look around”, Cheyenne asked with a wryly smile? “Get the hell out of the way or we’ll run your ass over”, Bob shouted in a serious tone.
It was dark when the convoy returned to the Striker residence. Motion detectors lit up the area as the riders came to a halt. The quiet of the night in Wallagrass was deafening. Light snow sprinkled the area and a taste of winter greeted the Allagash.
“I need to alert the Forest Service and the State Police”, Jim said as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “Gary, will you be able to fly us in to Ben Lake tomorrow”, Jim asked? “The Forest Service aircraft is still in the water hangar here at Eagle Lake. They didn’t plan to change the floats out for skis until next week”.
“Yeah, sure, Jim”, Gary answered. “I want to get a good look at that area from the air before we send anybody else back in there”, Jim continued, “I’ll call Ron Thibodaux when I get home and alert him for a search and rescue team”.
“What are you gonna tell him, Jim”, Bob asked? “Honestly boys, I’m not sure what I’m going to say to anyone, considering that whatever I say would probably get us locked up in the nut house, and I don’t mean Planters. Everybody stay near your phones. I’ll give you all a call in the A.M. and we’ll plan to regroup back here. We can stash our A.T.V.’s over there in the Striker’s garage
for tonight. They won’t be back for another week”.
The guys secured the vehicles and got together before climbing into their pickup trucks.
“I’m curious, Jim”, Gary said in an inquisitive manner, “Are you gonna tell Ron that Cheyenne got into a knife fight with a Martian? And what are you going to tell Elaine”?
”Jim fired back, “Get out of here, everybody go home. I’ll call Mike’s wife in a minute. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell her either. Go on, get out of here, all of you”!
Aliens in the Allagash
Chapter 6
Ben Lake
A twilight haze greeted Jim Gagnon as he pulled into the Wallagrass Town Hall parking area. Light winds and cool temperatures were on tap for the day. The rising sun was breaking through the tree lines. Patches of snow were under foot as he made his way to the front door while fishing through the key ring. Jim’s eyes were glassy from lack of sleep. He never noticed the condensation of his own breath in the crisp air.
His office offered no sensible plan of attack for the day’s activities, other than what appeared to be screaming loudly into both ears, ‘Find Mike’!
Mike’s wife, Elaine, didn’t take the news well. Not much of what Mike had said to her made much sense to himself either, and not considering the risk of getting himself locked up in the process. It was imperative that he get the posse rounded up from the night before.
Jim picked up the phone before he removed his jacket and placed a call, “Good morning, Gary”, was Jim’s greeting.
“Hey Jim, I’m headed down to the water hangar. It’ll take me about a half-hour to get the beast pre-flighted and ready to go”.
“Good deal, Gary, I’ll meet you there with Cheyenne”, Jim returned, “I want him to take a look at the area around the lake. If anybody can spot anything out of the ordinary, it’ll be Cheyenne”.
