David Golemon - Event

The younger trooper spit his toothpick out onto the sand. "Okay, you've succeeded in giving me the creeps here, Sarge. I could have gone all damn day without you pointing out that little matter."

Both state troopers watched the desert for any kind of movement. Not hearing or seeing any intensified their already hardworking imaginations. They had both heard the stories about this place from that old geezer Gus Tilly down at the Broken Cactus and had laughed with the rest of the bar's regulars when he'd talked about the ghosts that haunted the old fort, laughed to his face even to the point of being hit with a wet dish towel by Julie, the owner. But looking around at the remains of the old adobe fort at this moment in broad daylight, you were able to believe just about anything, including ghosts.

"Well, we better call this thing... whatever it is, in."

Milner stepped over the low wall and was ten feet from the cruiser when the dirt and sand erupted in front of him and then sped off in the direction of Dills. He turned quickly and followed the spewing earth until it disappeared beneath the adobe wall, actually exploding a six-foot section of mud brick into the air.

"Watch it, Tom!" he shouted in fear, his right hand reaching for his gun and pulling it free.

Dills had his back turned to the patrol car when the ground and old wall behind him flew skyward. He turned quickly, and both troopers watched in stunned silence as dirt, sand, and rock were thrown high into the air, obscuring their view of each other. Milner heard his partner yell something he couldn't understand, and when the sand and dust settled, Trooper Tom Dills had vanished. Only his hat was rolling away from where he had been standing.

Milner still had his automatic aimed in the direction he had last seen his partner and quickly started to run to where Tom had been just a moment before. He had gone three or four feet when he realized that he needed to call this in fast because no one knew they were out here. He turned and ran for the car, trying to find purchase in the thick sand as his cowboy boots fought for traction.

The earth exploded into the air again right where Tom had vanished. This time whatever it was moved faster than it had before. The wave crashed into the low wall of broken foundation, again spewing the old mud brick in all directions. Milner screamed and tried to move faster, running for his life while dodging the airborne adobe. He glanced back, then took quick aim and desperately fired two shots over his shoulder into the dirt wave as it drew nearer. He saw the bullets strike, but the wave actually accelerated. He turned just in time to avoid crashing into the hood of the cruiser. The driver's side door was open and he half closed it to get around. He threw his large frame into the front seat and reached for the radio, almost shooting himself in the head with his own weapon in his rush. Loud crashing noises came from above as adobe landed on the hood and roof of the cruiser.

"This is Unit Thirty, Unit Thirty, goddammit!" he screamed into the microphone, but there was nothing but static in return. He was about to repeat his frantic call for help when more sand and dirt were thrown onto the hood and windshield of the cruiser.

Outside the car, dirt was being thrown up around the vehicle in an ever-accelerating circle. First it was three feet in diameter from the car, then five, then six. The area around the large cruiser was obscured by swirling dust as Milner tried in vain to see what was happening. The car shook from side to side, lifting and then dropping back on its springs. The microphone fell from his hand as he tried to steady himself, grabbing at the seat belt and dashboard simultaneously. He heard a sudden wrenching noise as the cruiser dropped down into the ground. As he looked out the side window, he saw through the swirls of dirt and flying rocks that the patrol car had sunk about four feet into the earth. He screamed again and fumbled for the car radio, finally grabbing the microphone, trying desperately to hit the transmit button. Suddenly he and the cruiser were tossed to the right violently. The driver's-side door slammed shut hard enough to send a crack cascading through the glass. The closed door cut off most of the noise from outside. As the dust settled in the car, he felt the cruiser sink even farther into the ground. Soon the dirt and rocks covered the windows and he knew he had been buried alive. Again he tried to transmit, but again the microphone was knocked from his trembling fingers. In his haste to grab the elusive mike, he hit the overhead red-and-blues and they came on.

Darkness filled the interior of the patrol car as a final crashing movement bounced him deeper into his seat, then suddenly shot him straight up, smashing his head against the roof of the car. Blood flowed from the crown of his scalp and lower lip as the vehicle finally settled. He fumbled for the dome light, and finally his shaking fingers found the switch. He pulled and turned on the headlights, then twisted the knob to the right and the interior was filled with light. He raised a hand to his head and it came away red with blood. Then he looked around himself and took stock of his injuries. That's when he noticed he could see something outside the car. The headlights were cutting through the darkness and bouncing back at him through the swirling dust. The strobe effect of the overheads flashing against rock and dirt made the whole seem as if it were some strange light show. The swirling dust still obscured the light from the holes opening far above him.

He realized he wasn't buried, but had fallen through into some kind of shaft or tunnel, maybe a cave of some sort. He reached for the heavy-duty flashlight that was clipped under the dashboard and brought it up and clicked it on. He aimed both the light and revolver outside the front window. The dust still eddied and swirled as the light cut a swath through the semidarkness.

"What the hell happened?" he asked himself, his voice sounding distant and muffled in the stuffiness of the car. He jumped and voiced a yelp when rocks and dirt thumped down on the roof of the car from above.

He knew he couldn't have fallen that far, or there would be more damage to him and the cruiser, so maybe he could stand on the roof and pull himself up to the surface. He glanced up through the window at the fading sunlight shining in through the thirty-five-foot sinkhole he had fallen into.

"Doesn't look that far," he mumbled.

He shone the light against the wall nearest him. From what he could tell, it looked smooth, almost as if some giant bit had drilled it out, or as if it were made of black concrete that had been trowel-smoothed to a shiny finish. He saw the old roots of long-dead trees and bushes buried into the semigleaming surface, reaching through like ancient skeletal arms and hands. Milner was just getting ready to crack his door when a shadow fell between the light and the wall.

His eyes tried to adjust to the sudden movement and darkness beyond and see what had caused the distinct change that had come into the strange tunnel. Then he screamed as something crashed into the dirt-covered windshield, sending a spiderweb of cracks through the safety glass. He screamed again, the yell bouncing off the glass and reverberating through the car.

Dills's body lay torn and bloody and looked as if something had taken out a huge bite between his head and left breast, as the light fell on the man's glazed, dirt-filled eyes.

Milner screamed again while he retrieved his gun and forced the door open and started to scramble from the car.

The beast rose from the cool earth under the patrol car and rolled the cruiser over as the state trooper jumped clear. He heard the metal crunching as it was tossed over and over as something attacked it. The overhead lights went out and the tunnel was thrown into utter darkness save for the dust-diffused sunlight coming through the tunnel roof. Now, in the swaying beam of his flashlight, Milner saw massive, swinging arms crashing into the underside of the cruiser again and again. The attacker shifted its angle; it walked slowly around the upturned cruiser, alternately attacking and then falling back and then circling again. Milner started backing away, using his heels to dig into the earth as he crab-walked backward, using his elbows and heels, his breath coming in short, terrified gasps.