David Golemon - Event

Gus had awakened twice to the sound of his mule wandering away from camp. It was as if Buck was attempting to sneak off, so after twice having his sleep disturbed by having to drag the beast back to camp, Gus finally placed the bit and reins back into the mule's mouth and tied him to an old deadfall. If he had enough rope to cut up, as much as he would have hated to, he would have hobbled him. As it was now, Buck was actually trying to pull the old fallen tree away from camp. The mule's rear legs dug into the sand as he tried to back away an inch or two at a time. He would jerk his head and move it back a foot, then he would gather strength and do it again.

Gus sat up and watched as the animal struggled. He finally stood and quickly began to roll up his sleeping bag, wrapping it securely with the tarp. He then started packing the rest of his gear.

"You're right, old boy, I don't want to be here any more'n you do," he said as he threw his things together.

He kicked out the smoldering embers of his campfire and tossed what coffee remained in the old, battered pot onto the coals. Buck seemed to understand what he was doing because the mule stopped his efforts to escape long enough for Gus to load him up. As he reached down to untie him from the fallen tree and undid the reins, a piercing scream filled the night. Gus clutched his hands to his ears, dropped the reins, and sank to his knees. Buck, sensing he was free, rose up on his hind legs and jumped over the old miner, the rear hooves and steel shoes missing the old man's head by mere inches.

Gus didn't feel the wind as the mule jumped over him, nor did he see him gallop away into the dark night. He was trying with all his strength to crush his hands hard enough into his ears to muffle the awful scream. He went from his knees to his back, rolling over sharp pebbles, thrashing around and kicking at the sand, rolling in pain. Unable to stand it any longer, he rolled onto his stomach, then risking further pain, he removed his hands from around his ears and used them to push into a standing position. He staggered a moment until he had his bearings. When he stuck his fingers in his ears, he realized the screaming wasn't coming from outside his head, but within it. He touched his fingers to his nose and felt the stickiness of blood. The old man couldn't know it, but the high-pitched screaming had opened pinprick-sized aneurysms in his outer brain. The flow of blood stopped as soon as the invasion of sound suddenly ceased.

As he looked around, the quiet was deafening. To Gus it was like being under fire by artillery during the war: once it stopped, you encountered the silence that anyone who has lived through it can attest to, a quiet that continues to roar. Now the only thing he could hear or feel was his own ragged breathing and a heart he thought was trying to escape his chest.

"What in the hell was that?" he asked himself out loud, his voice shaking. The uncaring desert absorbed his question, but didn't hold an answer.

He finally brought his ragged breathing under control and thought he heard Buck braying in the night some distance from camp. He looked around and finally noticed the mule was gone.

"Buck!" he called.

But the only answer he received was the return of his own voice from the mountain, and even it looked down with its unsympathetic, ancient face.

Eight hours after the craft slammed into the earth, the mountain clearing was still active with subtle and unnatural noises rising on the soft night breeze that swept gently through the valley. The wreckage was scattered among the rocks and large boulders of the mountain. Some pieces caught the light of the rising moon, while others were so dark in color they were invisible. The chunks of metal ranged in size from inches to pieces the size of pup tents. The ground was gouged into an ugly scar where the craft had hit the earth. Some of the debris had glowed for a time after coming apart in the impact, and even now some of the wreckage hissed softly with the pulsing of power. But now the site was dominated by one sound, an intermittent noise coming from a large boxlike structure that had survived the crash intact.

The container stood ten feet high and was about the same in width. The small canisters attached to the top were crushed and leaking a mist into the night. The hiss of the escaping gas seemed loud and out of place in the small valley.

There was movement inside the metallic box, slow at first. Then suddenly the huge object rocked onto its side, knocking what remained of the cylinders free. The cylinders rolled away and finally came to rest against a large rock. The liquid spread out as it covered the rock, and slowly the five-pound stone started to disintegrate, finally oozing into the sand with barely a trace left of it.

The metal box was still once again, then suddenly something from inside hit the container so hard that it bulged outward, wrinkling the metal like ripples in a calm lake.

The activity was being watched. Eyes as black as obsidian were opened wide in terror as the crate continued to rock. Gasps of breath escaped the hole the visitor had dug for itself under one of the larger boulders that sat on the edge of the debris field. It was hunched so low, every time it breathed it shot up tiny puffs of fine dirt. The small being knew it had to quiet all of its involuntary muscle spasms from its damaged body. The beast in the cage was capable of sensing the smallest movement through the ground, so the survivor pushed itself as far back into the depression as the rock would allow and waited, mentally ordering its battered body to shut down, save for the smallest of breaths.

Upon gaining consciousness, it had screamed and screamed for the others of its kind. When no answer came, it had crawled and stumbled around the wreckage until it came upon the metal container. Its eyes had widened as it had spied the damaged cylinders and the fractal acid that was leaking into the soil instead of being injected into the cage. It had panicked and crawled away as fast as possible to the safety of the big rock it now hid under. The fail-safe system, because of the damage, was unable to initiate the killing, and the Destroyer was awake, awake and wanting freedom from its enclosure.

Another bulge appeared, in the top of the cage this time. The animal was now testing the strength of its prison and was finding it sorely lacking. Suddenly, the entire side rippled as the creature inside pummeled the interior again and again.

The Visitor couldn't help it. It tried desperately not to scream and did well to keep most of it inside its head, unknowingly attracting the attention of an old prospector down the mountainside.

The container, weakened from damage, screeched as three claws pierced through the metal walls of the box. They raked downward, then to the side, slicing through as if encountering nothing more than tinfoil. Once it had made the first hole, the prisoner started slicing and tearing at the enclosure until there was little left to block out the night sky. Then the remains of the cage were shaken free as easily as if it were nothing but paper.

As the moon passed behind the mountain, the Visitor saw nothing but the vague outline of the beast and closed its eyes to shut out what little it could see. Without warning, the roar of the animal filled the air and reverberated through the valley, bouncing off rock walls, then returning. The small being almost moved to cover its own ears, doing anything to drown out the horrible sound of the creature, but it caught itself before it could give away its position and lay as motionless as it could.

In a small alcove of granite, a survivor of the second craft watched. The debris field of this saucer was scattered on a higher level of the mountain, and most was buried upon impact. The wounds the crewman had suffered hadn't impaired its scramble to a high place when it heard the rumblings emanating from the metal cage. It had also seen the sudden panic in the eyes of the Green as it too heard the wakening of the beast It had watched the terrified way in which it too had sought safety. The second visitor had momentarily been tempted to risk its own life by seeking a fast way to reach the Green and kill it. But it knew the beast would be free before it could drag its wounded body to the small one's hiding place. It would have to wait.