David Golemon - Event

Toward the center of the crash area and strewn among the debris were several large container-like bins that looked somewhat intact. Most had small bottles on top of them that looked like oxygen cylinders. The old prospector walked to the nearest one for a closer inspection. The box or container or whatever it was stood a little over three feet in height and was oblong with a length of five feet or so. The front panel, or what Gus thought might be the front, was made of a clear material resembling Plexiglas. He peered through it as if he were looking through a window, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the rising sun. When his hand came in contact with the clear panel, it warped and turned to a gel-like substance that first wobbled, then fell as water to the sands below. At the moment the substance fell, Gus felt a small electrical discharge strike his hand where it had touched the gel panel. He quickly stepped back, immediately disgusted with what he had touched. That was when he saw lying in the middle of the casing another viscous material that stank to holy heaven. It covered the entire bottom of the container and was murky and brownish. It was still bubbling around what looked like the remains of small bones and a little bit of fur floating on top. Gus looked from it to the small canister-like tanks on the top. There were three total, and one was still dripping a blue liquid into the mess that lined the floor. It looked as though whatever had been in there had been killed by the stuff in the small cylinders.

The old man shook his head, knowing he was guessing at things he knew nothing about. What in the hell happened in this place? The breeze picked up again, and along with cooling his skin, the wind brought the smell of something else as Gus sniffed and looked around. His eyes settled on a rather large piece of debris that was leaning against a huge boulder about thirty feet to his front. Stepping farther into the valley, a funny and almost scary thought crossed his mind and occurred over and over. There had to have been people piloting this... this whatever it was. If it wasn't automatically piloted, that meant a crew. If some had survived, just how in hell would he get them out of here and back down the mountain? Buck was missing, and even if he weren't, he was far too old to carry anyone all the way to town. He looked around at the scattered wreckage, doubly worried now.

He quickened his pace and walked right up to the piece of metal that was leaning against the rock. He hesitated a moment with his hand poised on the upper half of the panel. Gus figured he would check this out, then get the hell out of here and find Buck and go to the cabin and drink for about a week. He lightly touched the strange metal, running his fingers over what looked like hieroglyphs etched on the surface. The memory was vague, but he had seen something like them once in the museum up in Denver. He had taken a whole paycheck one month, splurged, and caught some culture for the first time in years. He went to the movies, saw a film about wars in space or something (stupid was what he thought), then he went to see the Egyptian exhibition over at the Museum of Natural History. While there, the tour guide had explained that the name of the writing that had been found on things in Egypt was called hieroglyphs. He believed that was what he was looking at right now. They were a metallic pink and violet in color and were engraved deeply into the metal about a quarter of an inch. He ran a finger over the engravings and received a strange electrical charge through his entire hand to his elbow. The feeling was familiar and somehow comforting.

Suddenly, the metal fell over toward him and he had to step back quickly to keep from getting hit by the sharp edges on the piece of wreckage. When what was on the other side was revealed, his eyes widened in shock. Still strapped into some sort of reclining seat was what looked like a person, but from what he could see, it was small and skeleton-thin. Gus swallowed and looked closer. The body looked half-crushed and had been gashed all over. He realized it was without clothes. It was light green with darker, grayish green highlights, and it was possibly bloated in death. The old man realized he wasn't looking at anything that would pilot an airplane that he knew of. He swallowed and stepped backward, his eyes never leaving the small body that had died strapped to its seat.

While in Korea, his squad had come across an American F-84 Sabre jet that had crashed not far from their position. They had assumed the pilot had escaped, parachuting to safety. But when they investigated what was left of the aircraft, they saw what appeared to be the body of the pilot still strapped tightly to his seat. He had been as mangled and crushed as the being Gus was now staring at.

One side of its face had been caved in on impact, so Gus couldn't get a good idea of what the person, or thing, looked like. He did see that the being was without one strand of hair on its head. The small hands had three long fingers and a thumb. The thumb was almost as long as the digits it was curled up beside. There were no visible fingernails. Its one visible eye was large and the pupil was black as coal. Gus had to turn away as he saw his own aged reflection in the dust-covered eye.

He swallowed and was just starting to turn away when his foot slipped into a hole in the ground. He dropped down, catching himself at the last moment, desperately clawing at the sides of a large boulder to keep from falling into the gaping hole. Gus quickly scrabbled away and gained his balance. When he looked back into the hole that had nearly swallowed him, the old man saw a gaping maw that resembled a mouth. As he watched, rocks and dirt were still trickling into the hole from his close call. As his breathing finally calmed, he noticed the edges of the dark pit were smooth all around, as if the sides had been carefully excavated and not torn. It was as if a plug had been pulled from the compacted earth. Gus reached down and ran his fingers around its opening. It was not only smooth to the touch but was coated with a shiny substance that was still somewhat damp. He quickly pulled his hand away from the strangeness of the hole and rubbed his fingers together, finding them sticky. It also gave off a sweet odor, like a just-peeled banana.

The old prospector was close to panic. He found himself backing away, and then he remembered what was waiting behind him. The mangled body would be lying there strapped into its seat. He stopped and stood as straight as he could, then he took first one step, then two, then suddenly found himself walking faster.

Gus was almost to the spot where he had entered the valley when he fell to his knees holding his head. The immense and overwhelming feeling of fear and confusion were sounding again; this time jabbering accompanied the feelings. It was even more desperate than it had been before. Suddenly the old man realized something as he removed his hands from his head. The sound wasn't coming from his own head as it had been earlier; no blood was trickling from either his nose or his ears. The sound was coming from somewhere behind him in the valley. As he listened, the confusing sounds echoed off the rock walls and bounced around. What was more confusing, Gus had the horrible feeling that the sounds would attract something he didn't want to see.

Gus turned and crept slowly in the direction of the cries. He carefully stepped around some of the metal debris as he crept closer to the noise. He bent over, shakily placing his hands on his knees to get a closer look at the bottom of a huge rock. He at first thought the sound might have been coming from inside the piece of granite, then realized this was ridiculous. That was when he saw it was coming from beneath the huge boulder. He noticed movement at the base of the rock as the soft jabbering suddenly stopped. He went to one knee as he felt something akin to relief mixed with horror flash into his mind.