David Golemon - Event

The Blackhawk had two sliding-bracket-mounted, five-barrel, mini-rotary cannons on each side, manned by two crewmen wearing night-vision eyewear. The hoppers to their left were full of the rounds that could tear into any target and shred it before it heard the noise of the electrically driven weapon.

The powerful UH-60 Blackhawk slowed, then came to a stop still a hundred feet off the debris field and automatically held position.

"Going to manual flight, people, you are a go for egress. Good luck," Brannon called over the radio, then turned the red interior light off.

"Okay, watch your descent; don't land on anything if you can avoid it. We don't know what to expect down there," Collins shouted against the whine created by the twin turbines. "Are we ready?"

One by one his four-man security team gave the thumbs-up and answered into their built-in mikes, "Good to go!"

Collins slid the door back on its track, filling the compartment with a blast of cool desert air. He pulled his night-vision goggles down and adjusted the Kevlar helmet on his head. He also adjusted the harness holding extra magazines and water, then kicked out the first of four ropes, two on each side of the helicopter. They would make it a combat heliocast into an unsecured area; it would be as fast as you could do it, in the safest amount of time.

"Okay, let's go."

He grabbed the rope on the steel extension arm that was four feet beyond the open door, then fed the rope into the metal ring just below where his belly button would be, then turned and faced the inside of the compartment to the opposite side of the Blackhawk. Mendenhall mirrored his leader's movements exactly. Then they both pushed off at the same time. Everett and Jackson followed a second later. Up front, Brannon prepared to bring the power down a touch to keep the Blackhawk level due to the loss of weight.

The four men slowed their descent on the thick rubber-encased-nylon ropes as they approached the debris field. They came to a stop fifteen feet from the ground and let their eyes roam the area where each would set down. The drop zone was strangely cast in the green glow one never really got used to when using the ambient-light devices the military had developed for night operations.

Collins released pressure on both hands and traveled the rest of the way to the ground, narrowly missing a four-foot piece of strangely shaped metal. He quickly released the rope and unsnapped himself from the ring, then tossed the rope to the side and brought the short-barreled M16 up from his belly pack. Jack clicked the indicator from safety to semiautomatic and watched as Mendenhall followed suit, placing his weapon from safety to full automatic, as the second part of one team.

Collins then felt the huge Blackhawk increase power and rise back into the sky. Brannon was good and quick. He had watched the heliocast until its conclusion and hadn't waited for the all-clear before lifting the bird back up to a safe altitude so he could circle close enough to give the ground team cover fire if needed.

The major adjusted the small microphone to about an inch from his mouth. His voice would carry not only to his ground team and the helicopter, but also to the Group in Nevada. "All right, ladies, spread out and keep your eyes open?"

Everett and Lance Corporal Jackson were teamed and walked side by side, weapons at eye level, sweeping the area before them. Carl couldn't believe the amount of wreckage before him. As he turned and scanned the area behind his team, he saw Collins turn over a big container, then move on. He thought nothing of it until he saw him repeat the same thing to another strangely shaped box. As he turned, wondering what Collins was up to, he didn't see the hole. The next thing Everett knew the ground gave way, and if it weren't for his quick reflexes, he would have fallen all the way. As it was, he was hanging on by his elbows. His M16 had come up and given him a good whack on the chin, putting a good two-inch gash just to the left along his jawline. He felt his feet swinging below him and knew immediately it was a deep crevasse he had almost stumbled into.

"Some help here," he called calmly into his voice-activated microphone.

Jackson quietly ran over and saw what was happening. He let his weapon fall by the strap to his belly pack and moved his hands to Everett's armpits and lifted. Once he was out of the hole, they both looked down into the black maw in amazement.

"Old mine shaft, you think?" Jackson asked.

"No," Everett answered, looking closer at the dirt and sand with the night-vision scope. "Look at the dirt piled around the top, this was dug recently."

As they stared into the deep excavation, they saw it was smooth around the sides and went straight down. Everett broke a fluorescent nightstick and tossed it into the hole. Through the green-tinted limits of their vision the light told them it curved off somewhere around forty feet or so. They wondered why this hole was here right in the middle of the crash site. As they thought about the strangeness of it, both glanced around and brought their M 16s up with renewed enthusiasm.

Gus was sound asleep. His snoring was loud and had kept Mahjtic on edge, and the pain wasn't helping it either. But far more than Gus's snoring or the pain in its ribs was the fact it knew the small house was being watched. Mahjtic's eyes were wide as it pulled the old blanket up to its small chin as it heard a shuffling noise outside.

"Gussss," it whispered.

Mahjtic's call was answered by a much louder snore.

"Gussss." A little louder.

A strange sound emanated from the front of the house. It sounded like small popping noises. Gus never stirred. Then a sound of the screen door hitting lightly as it was closed, as if something was testing it.

"Gussss."

Mahjtic finally gathered up the reserve of courage to slowly slide up and off the bed, the pain in its ribs ignored as it leaned against the old clapboard wall and ventured a glance toward the front door and listened intently. There were scraping noises against the wooden door. The small alien's eyes went from the door to Gus, who was leaning back in the chair with his face toward the ceiling. Again it looked toward the flimsy door, and to Mahjtic's horror it heard the screen door spring being stretched open once again, and it saw the old glass doorknob slowly turn and then stop. It hadn't been turned far enough to open, but Mahjtic didn't care for the movement at all, and it had had enough.

"GUSSSSSS!" it screamed.

Gus was so shocked his legs pushed upward and sent him sprawling onto the floor. At that same moment a hatchet blade splintered the door and was quickly worked free. Mahjtic saw this, but Gus, who was trying to make sense of why he was on his back, didn't.

The small alien ran and jumped onto the bed and actually tried to climb the wall, only getting a few inches before sliding back to the old mattress. It was jabbering in terror as the hatchet again sank into the front door, and this time a loud hissing noise could be heard through the large crack in the wood.

"What in the--"

That was as far as Gus got as the center panel of the door gave way and a long, thin arm shot through. Small, clear claws were grasping at air, opening and closing. Gus's eyes widened as he saw that the arm was grayish and shot through with veins that revealed the dark blood that coursed underneath the sickly and wet-looking skin. As Gus started to gain some of his senses, he heard Matchstick scream again.

Whatever was at the door suddenly withdrew, and a moment later what remained of the center of the door came flying into the small house.

"Good God almighty," he said when the Gray stepped in through the doorway.