David Golemon - Event

The being under the boulder wanted so badly to look around after silence once again filled the crash site, but it knew that the beast was still there. It had seen this animal in its natural environment and knew it to be the best hunter in the known universe. Its instincts for survival were unparalleled.

Suddenly the animal roared again, unfolding the layered armor-plated appendages from its neck and making them stand out from its body like a rooster before a fight. The horrible scream was directed at the setting moon of this new world. The animal shook its massive head violently at the falling, yellow orb. Then it calmed and surveyed the area around it. It was slowly regaining its senses from a long hibernation, and gaining strength as well. The creature hunched its muscled shoulders and lowered its giant body toward the debris-strewn ground as it started creating invisible waves of high-pitched sound from deep within its throat that hit the sand and rock surrounding its monstrous form. The sound was too high for any to hear, but it was strong enough that it changed the very dynamic of the strange soil on which the beast found itself. The floor of the small valley for a radius of fifteen feet surrounding the animal rippled like the surface of a lake, the base elements and molecular structure of the dirt and rock having been changed through that invisible sound wave. The beast sprang into the air, closing the armored headdress around its muscled neck, and dove into the liquefied ground. A fountain of earth erupted in a cloudlike geyser as the Destroyer swam deeply beneath the surface.

After an hour of running, Buck stopped and turned. His forelegs came up into the air and he brayed. The large mule kicked at the air, confused by the feeling of being stalked, then quickly turned and bolted once again into the desert. The pack strapped to his back made clanging noises as pots and pans, picks and shovels, were jumbled.

Ten minutes later Buck was still running away from the mountain when the ground suddenly and without warning opened up, and Buck ran right into an ever-widening crevasse. He almost made the jump across to the opposite end of the hole, but his hind legs came up just short, first gaining purchase, then sliding off the crumbling edge. As his large chest and belly hit, his legs furiously kicked at now empty space. The animal struggled and kicked up the side of the depression until he started to make headway. Buck had almost extricated himself when something sharp pierced his right hind leg just to the right of his swishing tail. The mule began screaming in shock and pain as the huge claws sank deeper, gaining a better purchase with more of the animal's flesh. Buck's eyes widened in panic as he screamed and brayed and desperately kicked out, tearing huge chunks of his flesh away for the effort. Another set of claws reached up from the desert and grabbed Buck's left shank, snapping it in two as the mule was dragged backward into the ever-widening hole until only the mule's forelegs and head were still above ground. It frantically clawed at the dirt and sand as it tried pulling itself from the hole. Buck fell heavily on his side with his forelegs still furiously scratching at the expanding sides of the hole. Then suddenly the mule vanished.

A long and powerful roar of animal triumph never before heard echoed against the nearby mountains; then another deep and horrendous bestial scream rent the night air, Then as suddenly as the night had been covered in terror, all was eerily quiet once again. Only the sound of collapsing sand and dirt could be heard as a large wave moved off into the desert.

Gus held his ears again as a roar like that of a great animal rolled through the valley. After a minute the echoes of the scream died away, as silence swept the desert once again.

He turned away from the mountain and was about to call out to Buck when the roar was repeated. This time, before he had a chance to react to it, the sound stopped abruptly.

In the eerie silence that followed, he became aware of another sound, not like the first, the screaming, but softer. He shook his head in doubt because he thought it might be an after-echo from the horrible noise of a moment before. But this was distant, like someone, a child maybe, speaking in low tones.

The old man looked at the mountain and knew without thinking exactly where the crying was coming from, and then before he realized what he was doing, Gus Tilly started walking.

Lieutenant JG Jason Ryan had been through hell the last few hours. After he had been checked out by the flight surgeon, he had been grilled by his wing commander, squadron CO, and the special board that had been convened to look into the "accident." The film from his gun cameras that were encased in a hunk of aluminum that used to be his Tomcat was sitting at the bottom of the Pacific. He had nothing to corroborate his fantastic story. The Alert One fighters that had arrived on the scene only in time to see the two chutes hit the water reported nothing in the skies around the area and had never at any time had any hostiles on their air-search radars.

As he walked down the companionway, sailors would step aside and allow him to pass, becoming silent on his approach. The word was out that somehow the hotdogging lieutenant had caused an accident. Oh, the board of inquiry hadn't come right out and said it, but Vampire knew his story was just too unbelievable, even with Commander Harris backing him in his report from his division that something out of the ordinary had indeed happened that morning.

Ryan was just about to enter his cabin when a signalman intercepted him.

"Sir, you have a message from CAG, he wants to see you ASAP in his office."

Ryan nodded and walked a hundred feet down the companionway. This is it , he thought, this was his grounding and the beginning of the end of his career. He paused a moment before knocking.

"It's open," the deep voice of his CAG boomed.

He quickly opened the door and stepped into the air group commander's office.

"Lieutenant Ryan reporting, sir," he said, standing straight as a board.

His commander was writing something and didn't bother to look up.

"Mr. Ryan, you have orders to report to NAS Miramar. Have your person and navy issue on board the COD at 1055 hours tonight. You are hereby summoned there on National Command Authority, that means the president of the United States, Lieutenant, clear?"

Ryan didn't miss a beat. "No, sir, I'm not clear on this. I'm now a Jonah on board my own ship. I would like to stay and get this cleared up." In his anger, he moved toward the commander's desk.

Finally the commander looked up. Ryan could see in his eyes he was still burning up about losing Derry.

"You are at attention, Mr. Ryan," he said, pointing his pen at a spot in front of the desk. "Evidently the powers that be, and they are the real power here, mister, want to hear your story, so someone pulled strings and had you transferred. But make no mistake, young Mr. Ryan, we will get to the bottom of this incident. Lieutenant Commander Derry was a close friend, he thought you were the best pilot in the squadron. Therefore, Mr. Ryan, I believe you when you say what you saw out there, but without evidence other than two lost aircraft and three dead men, there's not a whole lot I can do. Your shipmates will always judge you harsher than even yourself. Dismissed."

Ryan deflated. He caught himself and stood up straight and saluted, then turned and left the office.

Once the door was closed, he stood there in quiet and stunned shock. In fifteen minutes he was going to be catapulted off the Vinson in a C-2 Greyhound, or the COD, carrier onboard delivery, or in this instance, garbage jettison.