Chapter IV

The next morning, Tyler found himself on the normal, boring patrol. He drove the Ram along Kansas State Highway Fifteen and wait for any calls from the county dispatcher. It was not long before Tyler's hope was answered and a static filled voice projected itself into the cab of the truck. "Dispatcher to Unit One."

Tyler grabbed the microphone and pulled it towards his mouth while pushing the "open frequency" button. "Unit One here, what do we have?"

"We've got a possible ten-forty-six. But it's only a ten-thirty-seven," reported the dispatcher.

"Ten-four. Where?" asked Tyler.

"Over where they're doing work near Wakefield. It's an off day so there's no construction workers."

"Ten-four," replied Tyler.

"It's apparently just some kids driving around the construction zone, but by the sound of it they could be intoxicated," said the dispatcher.

"Ten-four. Be there in a jiff." He stopped the vehicle and did a U-Turn and head for the nearest route. He headed through town and turned right at the County Fairgrounds onto Broughton Road. Fair's coming up soon, Tyler thought; need to start thinking about entries.  Wheat, corn and alfalfa fields passed through Tyler's view as he drove about four miles and turned and headed for the Broughton Bridge. After a little while, he came across the construction site. Work on yet another local bridge was being done. This made it particularly difficult to get to places like Wakefield and Junction City. Tyler pulled the Ram over near an overheated Chevy Silverado that was sitting on the side of the road. The Silverado was an older model, and probably couldn't handle the activity in the heat. The driver and passengers seemed to have vacated the vehicle. He got out and looked around the area. Several "Construction site" signs had been knocked over and tire streaks had been left on the road.

Tyler picked up the microphone of the radio, "This is Unit One. Ten-twenty-three."

"Ten-four Unit One," responded the dispatcher.

A few giggles came from behind the tree line. The aroma of marijuana smoke filled the air. K-Weed, Tyler recalled, was what the local wild hemp was called. Not as strong as selectively bred marijuana, Tyler knew due to his own experimentation with it as a teenager, but still could get the job done.

Tyler walked in the direction of the laughter. Then the laughter stopped. He suddenly heard a teenager yell, "Oh shit, let's get out of here!"

Five young adults, three boys and two girls, made a run straight for the Silverado. A couple girls seemed to look back over their shoulders in terror. Tyler's jaw dropped at the behavior of the delinquents. He noticed one of them had a pistol protruding from his jean shorts.

"Freeze! Hold it!" Tyler yelled.

The teens stopped and stared at Tyler, seemingly completely unaware that he had been there. One of the older looking boys stepped towards and pointed towards the trees. "There's something back there," he said.

"You kids stay here," Tyler told them. "And don't think you can get away, because I know who you are." He then moved for the trees.

*  *  *

The Yautja observed the five adolescent bipeds. All of them had bright orange silhouettes with various colors inside while surround by a cold blue. They seemed to be sharing an object made of paper and local flora that had embers at the end and smoke rising. One had a small projectile weapon, but seemed intoxicated and did not seem a threat. The others were making small sounds that seemed joyful or at least pleasing. He scanned them from afar and detected a foreign substance in their lungs and blood stream.  It occurred to him that the object they were using was a narcotic or hallucinogen. But then the Yautja made a mistake; he stepped from his perch on a branch onto another branch. This one was not very strong, so it cracked beneath his feet. The bipeds looked up and saw him. The smallest one, likely a female began screaming and they all ran. One of them yelled a phrase of its native language. He followed them through the trees to the nearby road where he saw the law enforcement biped from the day before.

"Freeze! Hold it!" yelled the law enforcement biped. The younger ones stopped and stared at the bright orange form of the adult biped.

One of the larger adolescents moved forward and spoke to the adult biped. The adult biped moved to the vehicle he had come in and removed a weapon.

The Yautja tensed and began targeting the law enforcement biped. Now was an honorable chance to claim the prize. The native biped trudged through the flora, frightening various animals. He observed the cracked branch he had been just moments before. But to his surprise, the biped displayed even more of his tracking skills; closely examining the branch by climbing the tree and putting himself just feet away from the cloaked hunter. Now was not the time, the Yautja decided, the law enforcement biped would be one of the final trophies.

*  *  *

Tyler closely examined the branch that had snapped and was dangling from its base on the trunk. He could tell that too much weight had been on it and caused it to snap. What looked to be claw marks were also apparent to the sheriff. He ran his fingers through the marks to get a good idea of the depth of the marks as well as the size of the claws. Whatever it was that made them, it was probably large. Tyler thought back to the plaster castings of Pete's animal. He remembered how large the feet and claws were. He then told himself it was probably something some kids had made years before and that the branch was just old and that's why it snapped.

 But then he saw something. Movement to his right. He couldn't see what made it, but he could see it still. What looked to be a leg and foot darted from his view. The only thing was, the thing he saw was transparent except for a distorted outline of it.

After it was gone, he froze for a moment, trying to make sense of what he had just saw. When he failed to do that, however, he scrambled for his truck.

*  *  *

The Yautja reviewed his encounter with the law enforcement biped. "Fre," he started, "Freeze."