The Claws Of The Boryx
Chapter 25
XXV
~ 9:12 PM ~
Judge Lewis jumped out of the car, forgetting, in his haste, to even thank the driver who had rescued him from the desert. After regaining consciousness, he had spent two days in his disabled car with the doors mysteriously jammed and another night and part of a day walking in the sun. He still wasn't sure how he got back inside his car after being attacked by the snake; he simply woke up there. In spite of this, Judge Lewis ran straight into his office and immediately dialed the number he had for the agent he knew only as "Culpepper."
"Yeah?"
"It's me," Judge Lewis said, trying to talk and quench his thirst at the same time with water from a paper cup that he had just filled from the cooler beside his desk.
"Yeah, Judge, I recognize your voice. What do you want?"
"It's not what I want, Culpepper, it's what you want."
"Okay, the agent sighed. "So what do I want?"
"Something you're missing. Do I need to say more?"
There was a brief pause on the line. "I'll be there."
Thirty-eight minutes later, three agents let themselves into Judge Lewis' office. Judge Lewis had not bothered to lock his door. It never did any good anyway. And besides, this time, he wanted them here.
"Have you guys lost a bird?"
Culpepper looked at the other two agents, and they returned the look with blank stares. Then he looked back at Judge Lewis in disbelief.
"I thought you had information about some missing, uh, prisoners that escaped from the base recently, Judge. Is this some kind of joke?" Culpepper leaned over Judge Lewis' desk and put his face close to the judge's face in a deliberate attempt to intimidate him. "If you'll look closely at my face, it's not smiling."
Judge Lewis backed up involuntarily.
"It's no joke, Colonel. Have you lost your bird?"
There was a pause, and the agent's face reddened noticeably, as he collected his thoughts.
"I'm sorry I referred you to that urologist, Judge. You don't need a urologist, you need a psychiatrist!"
"I don't think so," Judge Lewis retorted. "You guys are doing something secretive out there, and I think I've seen something that you would very much like to get back."
"You haven't started believin' in all that UFO hogwash, have you, Judge?"
"UFO's? Come on, Colonel! What do you take me for? A kook?"
"Hey! Now there's something I hadn't thought of!" Culpepper said sarcastically."
Judge Lewis paid the sarcasm no attention. "You guys are doing some kind of research out there. I've heard about the special planes and stuff, but I think you're doing biological research, too. You've managed to produce a very special bird… something that looks like a roadrunner but can kill a hawk… It's like a roadrunner on amphetamines… and it's feathers turn into some kind of… something that looks like skin when they get knocked off. How am I doing? Huh? Not laughing now, are you? God knows what else this bird of yours is capable of!"
There was a long pause, as the agent thought about what Judge Lewis had said. His first inclination was to simply write the judge off and report that he had flipped out and would be of no further use to them, but he felt in his bones that there was more to this than he could see. The missing alien kept coming to his mind… and he wasn't sure why. He couldn't imagine what the alien had to do with Judge Lewis' bird. But the rumor among some who knew on the base was that, years ago, when the alien was first captured, it had suffered extensive wounds and had somehow healed itself by altering it's wounds. Several times over the years, the Army had tried to force the alien to give them a "demonstration" in the lab, but to no avail. The alien had been uncooperative, even under extreme duress. Yet, somehow… Culpepper still had a feeling that the missing alien had something to do with Judge Lewis' bird. If he thought it, though, he wasn't about to admit it…
"You're crazy, Judge."
"I don't think so." Judge Lewis reached into his desk and pulled out the dirty rag. He unrolled it, exposing the piece of skin, which measured about two inches by two and a half inches. It was still bleeding. In fact, it seemed to be producing more blood. Culpepper and the other two agents looked at the piece of skin, obviously interested.
"Where did you see this… uh, 'Mothra' bird?"
"Ah! Ah ha! You want to know, don't you? Well, it'll cost you… for saying I needed a psychiatrist."
"Which way did it fly?"
"How much is it worth?"
"What do you think you saw?"
"When can I expect a 'thank you?'"
"The agent sighed deeply. "I'll have it delivered… the usual way… the usual amount."
"Double," Judge Lewis said.
"You're getting greedy, Horace.
"I've got something you really want… bad," Judge Lewis countered, feeling sure of himself now. There was a short pause.
"Okay… double. Where did you see the bird?"
"In town… then in the desert. I don't know where it went after that. It disappeared after the run-in with the hawk."
"Maybe the hawk ate it," Culpepper sneered.
"You didn't see all the hawk feathers I saw in the desert, Colonel. Looked to me more like the roadrunner ate the hawk."
"Roadrunners aren't exactly Olympic flyers, Judge. They tire out quickly. Most of the time they'd rather run than fly."
"Not this one."
"Okay… Which way was it flying?"
"Straight out across the desert."
"That's not worth anything to us, Judge. What towns lie in the direction the bird was flying?"
Judge Lewis thought a moment. "No towns… that I know of… just some trees… then the river… the Mesaliko Reservation… and a lot of desert."
"The Mesaliko Indian Reservation?"
"Yeah."
There was another pause.
Culpepper reached into his inside coat pocket and took out two large stacks of hundred dollar bills, which he plopped down on Judge Lewis' desk. Then he picked up the rag and the piece of skin in it and put them into his coat pocket.
"Don't bother counting it, Judge. It's all there."
**********
~ 11:45 PM ~ on the Mesaliko Indian Reservation
The agent put the night view binoculars back up to his eyes and scanned the scattered rows of Indian homes again… for perhaps the hundredth time tonight… and for the hundredth time tonight, he saw nothing unusual. Most of the Indians on the reservation had retired early, as was the habit of the older ones in particular, and had their curtains drawn, though a few of the younger ones were in town at the only pool hall that was still open. In any case, absolutely nothing was happening on the reservation.
"This is getting nowhere, Barker. Nothing's moving out there."
"Keep watching Terrier… and use my code name."
"Terrier" looked at Barker and rolled his eyes. "There's no one out here on this hillside but us and a bunch of blood-sucking mosquitoes… Sir!"
"I don't care. It's still Culpepper. Follow protocol, Terrier."
Terrier nodded and looked through the binoculars again. For the hundred and first time, he saw nothing out of the ordinary and nothing moving at all. He rolled over and handed Barker the binoculars.
Barker looked up and down the distant lowland at the scattered houses. Every house was quiet. Every house had its curtains drawn. And every house was totally normal-looking in every respect. Nothing was amiss. If anything was hiding here, it didn't look like they were going to find it lying on this hillside being unwilling blood donors for a happy fleet of mosquitoes.
"Damn!" Terrier mumbled, swatting his face again.
"You should have used the skin-so-soft, Terrier. I'm telling you, it works."
"I'd rather be carried back to the base with all my blood drained out, Sir."
"That may happen."
"I won't use that sissy stuff… Sir. That's Avon. It's for women."
"Suit yourself, Terrier. Rub some more on me then."
"Sir!"
"That's an order!"
Terrier groaned but took the lotion and began rubbing it on the backs of Barker's arms and legs. Both men's bodies were adequately covered with thick camouflage clothing, but somehow, the mosquitoes seemed to be able to get through to the face and extremities anyway.
"Sir," Terrier asked, "Do you really think the bird the judge saw had something to do with the escaped alien?"
"You saw that piece of skin the judge had. It wasn't human."
"You think it came from a bird, Sir?"
"I think it came from our alien… wherever he is. It looks like other samples of his skin I've seen. Maybe he was out there in the desert and the judge was just hallucinating that he saw a bird… the hot sun, you know. Or maybe our alien disguised himself by wearing Indian feathers or something… I don't know. Hell, maybe he can turn into a bird."
"Like a mutant, Sir?" the agent asked. Barker rolled his eyes and ignored the question. The fact is, he never had believed that there had even been a bird. He was convinced, however, that the judge had seen something and that that something was their escaped alien, most likely wearing a disguise and hiding out either in the desert nearby or on the reservation.
"Terrier," Barker said, as he rolled back over and looked through the binoculars again… "If you were an alien hiding out here… Where would you hide?"
"How would I know, Sir?"
"Well, think about it."
"I don't know… Maybe I'd take over the body of a young, good-looking brave and marry a pretty Indian girl."
"They don't do that body-snatching stuff, Terrier. That's just Hollywood movie crap."
"Well, you asked, Sir. Besides, how do you know real aliens don't do that?"
There was no answer from Barker.
"Maybe someone on the reservation is hiding him," Terrier suggested.
"Why would they do that?"
"Maybe they like him better than they like us."
"No one likes us, Terrier! They're not supposed to! It's not part of our job descriptions to be popular. We do what has to be done, and we ask for no glory. We're not contestants in a damned beauty contest!"
"Well, I know that, Sir. I just meant that it could be a reason why someone might hide him from us."
Barker groaned. "We're not going to find anything out here tonight. Let's get back to the lab and see what that piece of skin… or whatever it was… turned out to be. If there's anything unusual about it, we can come back and raid this place… with proper backup."
"Raid a reservation?" Terrier asked, surprised.
"You got a problem with that?" Barker asked.
"Well… no… but the Indians might. And for that matter, a lot of bleeding hearts out there might, too. The media would just have a picnic with it."
"So we come up with a good excuse," Barker said. "If that piece of skin is from our alien, I'll take this reservation apart house by house myself if I need to. And I'll have all the support I need. It just takes the right words."
**********
~ 6:05 AM ~ Roswell
Before the sun began to show its first morning rays over Roswell, Jim Valenti was already up and having breakfast with Amy and Kyle, preparing to start his day as Roswell's sheriff. It was something on the television in the living room that caught his attention. He hadn't been paying any attention to the news, but the words "Army" and "Mesaliko Reservation" brought him to attention. He ran to the TV to turn it up.
Sources report that at 5 o'clock this morning the Army began moving tanks and other war vehicles into position around the Mesaliko Indian Reservation near Roswell. We have no independent confirmation of this report as yet, but a KUVA news team is on the way to Roswell now, and we will let you know anything further as soon as we find out ourselves. More on the news at seven. This is Bob Harwood with KUVA News in Santa Fe reporting.
Amy turned to hand Jim his hat, but he was already out the door. She looked back at Kyle.
"Go on. It's okay. I'll be fine. I always stay here by myself."
It didn't take any further encouragement. Amy was out the door, and as Jim started his vehicle up, Amy hopped into the seat beside him. Jim knew better than to argue.
"You better buckle up, Amy."
Amy did.
As Jim tore out of his driveway, his home phone began to ring, and Kyle answered it.
"Oh, hello Mr. Evans… Yeah, we heard… Yeah, Dad's checking it out now. It's news to us, too… We don't know what's going on. Dad'll handle it, and he'll keep you informed… No, I don't think he would want a lot of people out there putting themselves in danger… Well, yeah… I know it's Max and Isabel, but… Dad will… Mr. Evans?"
The phone clicked.
"Yeah. That's what I figured you'd do, anyway," Kyle mumbled to himself, throwing a shirt on over his T-shirt and locking the front door as he left the house.
In another Roswell home, another phone began to ring. Mrs. Whitman rolled over in her bed and picked it up.
"Hello?"
She listened for a few moments then sat up quickly in her bed.
"What? When?"
"5 o'clock this morning… heard it on the early news… Sheriff… checking it out…"
"Okay… Thanks, Diane. I appreciate you letting us know."
Mrs. Whitman woke her husband up and told him about the call, then she jumped out of the bed and started to get dressed as he threw on his clothes and grabbed his car keys. Within ten minutes, they were in their car heading towards the Mesaliko Reservation.
**********
~ 7:00 AM ~
Jim stopped his vehicle at the entrance to the reservation and looked over at Amy.
"Why are we stopping, Jim?"
"Well, if the Army is watching and we rush straight in, we'll be leading them right to the kids. We need to find out what's going on here without jeopardizing the kids."
Amy nodded. "Maybe we could create a little disinformation at the same time," she suggested.
"I'm open to suggestions," Jim agreed.
As they sat there, Phillip and Diane Evans drove up. Seeing Jim and Amy, they paused and rolled down their window.
"What's going on, Sheriff," Phillip asked. "Have you found out anything?"
"Not yet," Jim yelled back. "But Phillip, you can't just go charging in there… you'll lead them right to the kids… if that's who they're looking for."
Phillip looked at Diane then back at Jim. In their haste, they hadn't thought of this, but both of them knew instantly that Jim was right. If they just rushed right in they might as well paint a big arrow to Gray Hawk's house and put a sign on it saying, "They're here!"
"What can we do, Sheriff?"
"Well, I'd say go home, Phillip… and wait till I find something out… but I doubt you're going to do that, so see if you can come up with any suggestions to help me out here. I'm open to anything at the moment."
"I called the Whitman's from my cell phone on the way," Diane said. "They'll probably be showing up soon, too."
"Great," Jim sighed. "Just what we needed… more people. Okay, move your car a little closer to mine. That way, when they get here, they'll have to stop. I don't want them rushing in."
Phillip nodded and moved his car towards Jim's a bit. Seconds later, another vehicle drove up, but this one wasn't the Whitmans. It was a news crew in a news van. The van slowed to a stop, and the driver looked at the words "Sheriff's Dept." on the side of Jim's vehicle, which was blocking the way. Then he held out their credentials for Jim to see. "Sheriff! Can we pass?"
Jim thought for a moment. "What do you plan to do while you're in there?"
"We're gonna give a live, on-the-scene report from the Reservation," the driver said. "If we can find out anything, we'll report it. What can you tell us, Sheriff? What are they looking for?"
Jim looked at Amy, and Amy winked. Jim nodded.
"Well, I'm not at liberty to release this information, understand. But the, uh, 'object' they're looking for was seen about thirty miles east of here about an hour ago, and according to my sources, it's on its way through Texas now. I guess the Army hasn't figured that out yet. Don't quote me on that, though! This is strictly off the record. If you report that I said this, I'll deny it."
"I understand," the driver said, looking back at one of his news anchors… "You got that, Kitty?"
"Got it."
"All right," Jim said to the driver. "I'll move out of your way. I'll watch your report from here. Stay away from the residents' houses, and don't make pests of yourselves. The Reservation is private land, and it has its own laws. Stay out of trouble."
"Thanks, we'll keep that in mind," the driver said, as Jim moved his vehicle.
Jim nodded then turned to Amy. "Do you still have that little TV back there?"
"The one that plugs into the cigarette lighter?"
"That's the one."
"Yeah, it's here."
Jim moved his vehicle back into place… just in time to catch the Whitman's, who were arriving at a fast clip. Diane Evans filled them in on what Jim had told them.
Amy already had the little TV plugged in and had located station KUVA. Jim, Amy, Phillip, Diane, and the Whitmans crowded together to watch.
**********
~ 7:43 AM ~
"Is the mike on? How do I look? Okay, let's do it… on One! Three… Two… One…
Good morning! This is Kitty Kashizzle reporting for KUVA Sante Fe from the Mesaliko Indian Reservation in Roswell, New Mexico. At 5 o'clock this morning, sources notified this station that the U.S.Army was mobilizing several battalions around the Mesaliko Indian Reservation. As we speak, it appears that they are indeed planning to attack the Reservation with military force. If you will look out there…" The newsgirl pointed off in the distance, and the cameras panned over the hills, zooming in on a large number of Bradley Vehicles, tanks, and other war machines that had gathered already just out of easy eye sight… but not out of view of the camera's high-powered lenses.
"Over those hills, you will see dozens… no… make that hundreds… of tanks, Bradley Vehicles, Humvees… and other military equipment, all manned with heavily-armed soldiers, all poised to swoop down on this apparently peaceful little Reservation, the residents of which appear to be blissfully unaware of the danger that lies ahead for them.
Efforts to find out exactly what the Army expects to accomplish from this highly-questionable raid have produced no good answers… either from the Army's headquarters or from calls to higher-up military sources… but a confidential source has informed us that the object of the Army's search may never have been here at all and may, in fact, no longer even be in New Mexico. This source tells us that as recently as two hours ago, the object of the search was seen 30 miles east of here and that it is now in Texas.
We will stay on top of this, here on the Reservation, and report all the news for you as it happens, so stay tuned to KUVA Santa Fe for all the news that's news. This is Kitty Kashizzle reporting for KUVA Santa Fe."
The newsgirl looked at the cameraman, and he nodded. "Great job, Kitty! You're a real pro!"
"Thanks, Jake. I wish Rogers would realize that. On the other hand, though, maybe a pro's not what he wants. Maybe a barroom girl would be more to his liking."
The cameraman laughed. "You're probably right, Kitty. Give the old man what he wants. Keep your job. You're too good to lose just because old Rogers can't see past the peaks."
"Well, one of these days I'm gonna get there, Jake… climb out of this little circus… and he's gonna find those 'peaks' a bit dangerous when I do."
As they spoke, a man no one had noticed approaching walked up to Kitty and offered her his hand.
"Kitty Kashizzle?"
The newsgirl looked around. "Yeah, that would be me. There's no one else here by that name, I'm afraid. Do I know you?"
"No… not really. I'm the one who called in the anonymous report this morning… the source."
The girl's mouth fell open. "You're our source? Oh, good! Good! Maybe you can clear up some things. How did you know this operation was going to happen? It was hardly even underway when you called."
"I have inside connections."
"What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'source' all the time."
"Dan. Just Dan… for now. I can't be seen or named on the news, though. It would jeopardize a lot of things… my life included."
"Okay. What is the Army looking to find here… Dan?"
"Escapees… one in particular."
"Like… convicts?"
"No. Convicts were 'convicted.' That's why they're called 'convicts.' These prisoners are more like… victims."
"Victims?"
Dan nodded.
"Victims… of the Army?"
"Victims of a few higher-up Army personnel and a special unit that was legally disbanded by Congress several years ago but is still operating under the radar."
"All right… All right," the newsgirl said excitedly, looking for her pen and notepad. "That was good! Victims of a few higher-ups and a special unit disbanded by Congress several years back but still operating in secret. What unit was that?"
"The alien task force."
The newsgirl looked at the man for several moments. "Are you saying that… the Army… all those tanks and men out there… are looking for… an alien?"
Dan nodded.
Slowly the girl began to smile. "You're putting me on, right… because this is Roswell and all…?"
Dan shook his head.
"All right… Okay… How do you know this… I mean, assuming that it's true."
"Because I'm a member of the alien task force."
"The disbanded… alien task force…" the newsgirl clarified.
Dan nodded.
The newsgirl turned to her assistant. "Carole, check something out for me. Run a query on Congress' disbanding of an 'alien task force…'" She turned to Dan… "When was this?"
"Two years ago… October 9th."
"Run that for me, will you, Carole? See what comes up."
The assistant rushed into the back of the van and sat down to type in the query on her keyboard. A couple of minutes later, she reappeared and handed the newsgirl the printout. The girl read it quietly then looked at Dan again… with a new look on her face.
"Dan… if this is true… I can't tell you how important this would be… to the world… and to me personally."
"Why would it be important to you, Kitty?"
The girl laughed. "I've always been kind of a UFO freak, Dan. People say I belong out there in the stars. Maybe that's why I'm such a flop here on earth."
"A flop? Kitty Kashizzle?"
"Oh please! Kitty Kashizzle! I want to puke every time I have to say that on the air. It's not my real name, you know. My producer thought I needed more sizzle… something to attract a larger male audience. I tried to tell him I'm a newswoman not a frikkin' stripper, but he's got his head stuck so far up his ass that every time he farts, he sneezes."
Dan smiled.
"You think that's funny?"
"I was just picturing it. Besides, I know what it's like to have an idiot boss on the loose."
Kitty smiled and nodded. "Yeah. You always feel like you need to dress them in neon just in case they decide to go out and play in the traffic."
"We just put a spiked collar on mine and tie him to a tree. Keeps him from chasing the traffic and biting the car tires."
Kitty laughed.
"So what's your real name, Kitty?"
"Diane."
"Diane… That's nice. I'll bet your last name's not Kashizzle either."
The girl laughed. "No way! Dan… uh…"
"Klein."
The girl held out her hand. "Hi, Dan Klein, I'm Diane Casey. Glad to meet you."
Dan shook the newsgirl's hand. "I like that. Your boss really is an idiot, isn't he?"
Diane smiled and laughed. "Yeah… he is. And your boss?"
"He's the one who called this raid."
Diane nodded. "Well, Dan, let's see if we can shake things up a little, okay? Maybe help some 'victims.'"
"That's kind of what I hoped," Dan said.
tbc
Coming up: The beginning of the end