David Golemon - Event

"Very good, it's a start," said the president.

"What was the other item at the crash site, Major?" someone out of view of the camera's lens asked.

"Who is it I am addressing, sir?"

"This is Director Godlier of Central Intelligence."

"Well, Mr. Director, we have footprints. They were obviously made by a man likely arriving sometime after the crash as the prints are recent. We believe he may have possibly helped the surviving crewman, if there was one, escape the area."

The president looked around him, then at Collins two and a half thousand miles away. "Then we may have caught a break?"

. "Yes, sir, this man may have been of some assistance to the survivor. We do suspect the crewman may have been injured because of the severity of the crash, but of course we would only be guessing at the extent of that injury or injuries."

"Very well, keep us informed." The president hesitated a moment. "Major, here is what we have done on our end. If our teams fail to contain the animal, I suspect we'll have a full-scale war on our hands that we can't keep from the American public. The Eighty-second Airborne is now on alert and already in transit for positioning in either Phoenix or El Paso in case the animal escapes containment. The Fourth Marine Expeditionary Force is on alert for possible action in Los Angeles and the bulk of Southern California. Fort Hood has been alerted and elements of armor CAV are being loaded onto trains as we speak to block any possible movement north into Colorado. That's it, Major, I'm afraid, as the general said, we are spread thin. So try and come up with a plan that will utilize those men we can get to that valley, and for God's sake, contain whatever this thing is." The view of the president and the Situation Room blacked out.

On the other side of the split screen, Niles looked grave.

"How is the senator?" Jack asked Niles as he tossed his Kevlar helmet to Everett, who had stepped out of the mess tent.

"Alice is with him at the center's clinic. He's due to be transferred upstairs to the Nellis base hospital in a while."

"Not good then?" Jack asked.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Niles, we need to speed things up. Besides the special material I've requested from the private sector"--Jack looked at his notes again--"Dr. Gilliam here at the site has asked for a connection to be made to Helicos BioSciences in Cambridge. They have a high-speed DNA sequencer they've been working on that just may fit the bill here to get a firm grasp on this animal. She says our portable stuff is prehistoric when compared to what Helicos has in the works."

"I'll get on it right away"

Niles saw Josh Crollmier approach Jack from the side and tug on his sleeve, pulling him away from the camera. Compton looked at Alice in confusion as the voices off camera were muffled. But he was pretty sure it was Crollmier, speaking rather adamantly. He could also hear other members of the ground team shouting and carrying on. Suddenly an ashen-faced Collins stepped back into camera view. He ran a hand through his hair again and looked into the lens.

"What now, Jack?" Niles asked.

Jack once again focused on the camera. Others around the site stopped and watched him, eavesdropping for any information they could get. Collins reached out and snatched something from Crollmier and held it up. It was a piece of wreckage.

"The doc here says we have a problem. He says we don't have the wreckage of one saucer here, we have two. Ryan's Phoenix missile must have caused the attacking craft catastrophic damage, enough to bring it down right next to the other ship."

Niles sat hard on the edge of the conference table.

Julie placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Billy as he pulled the napkin from the bar and placed it on his lap. He looked at the eggs and bacon without much enthusiasm as he yawned.

"Man, that sure smells good."

Billy turned and saw two men standing there. Juan and Carmella Lopez, his mother's cleaning people, were still in the midst of vacuuming and washing the last of Saturday night's dirty dishes. They went stock-still, looking at the two newcomers. One was a small, dark-haired man and the other a big black fellow who stood ramrod straight and smiling. They were dressed totally in black, weapons holstered across their chests and black helmets under their arms.

"Can I help you?" Julie asked suspiciously as she placed a knife and fork in front of her son.

"Well, ma'am, you can if you can serve us what that young gentleman is having," the smaller of the two said as he removed a pair of black gloves.

Julie gave the two men the once-over. They were dirty and, of all things, wore black nylon jumpsuits. Her eyes traveled to the black boots and bloused pants. As she watched, the small man unsnapped his body armor from his chest.

"This is Sunday, we're closed until noon, I'm sorry."

The small man looked around and saw the two cleaning people, then smiled and winked at them. "Yes, ma'am, that's exactly what the sign said in the window. But the sergeant and I would forever be in your debt if you could give us something that's not freeze-dried and full of sand."

"Marines?" she asked, noticing the word freeze-dried and the outfits.

"Not on your life, ma'am," the taller, black man said, not smiling a bit.

"Special Operations Group, Mrs....?" the smaller of the two started to ask.

She watched the two men for a moment, seeing the dirty faces around clean spots where goggles had previously been. She knew they had come in from the desert, because her son always had the same dirty face after riding around in the scrub.

"You don't look too special to me, and it's Ms."

The man stepped to the bar and looked at the boy, then down at his plate of food. "Hi, there, my name's Ryan," he said as he looked from the boy to his mother. "Well, my mama said I was special," he said in answer to her statement. "What's your name, little man?"

"B... B... Billy," he stuttered.

"This is my son, and I would appreciate you talking with me and not him," Julie said.

Ryan flinched. He was not used to having a woman come down on him that quickly, at least until they knew him a little better.

"Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean any harm." He brought his right hand up and lightly touched his chest. "I'm Lieutenant Jason Ryan, United States Navy." Then he stuck his hand out to the woman. "The prideful army-type fella behind me is Staff Sergeant Mendenhall."

Julie looked at the outstretched hand, then wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist, then took the lieutenant's hand in her own and nodded over Ryan's shoulder at Mendenhall.

"Looks like no navy uniform I've ever seen, and I apologize, we're kind of on edge around here," she said, arching her left eyebrow.

Ryan looked down at his dusty black nylon jumpsuit, then the holstered nine-millimeter pistol. "Oh, this old thing." He looked up and met her green eyes. "Doing some fieldwork out there." He gestured out the window and into the desert beyond. "We're the good guys, really."

"What'll you have?" Julie asked in defeat.

"You mean you're open?"

"No, we're still closed, but I can make you something because the grill's still hot. Does your quiet friend want something?" she asked, going through the batwing doors that separated the kitchen from the bar.

"Yes, ma'am, eggs over easy and sausage would be fine, and some coffee if you have it," Mendenhall answered.

Ryan set his helmet on the long mahogany bar and pulled up a stool next to the boy. He heard and felt Mendenhall do the same to his left. Jason nodded at the boy. "Going to be some loud noises here in about ten minutes," Ryan said quietly, and winked.