- 7 -

Day 13 Saturday Evening

When Ollie Matson found the Big Bend police car within a hundred yards of the highway, he called for a backup unit. When he found the cop inside the car with most of his head blown away, he called the State Troopers. Since one cop had already been killed in the area this morning, six troopers were immediately dispatched to the scene, followed by the County Coroner and a forensic team.

Ollie's impatience forced him to ignore proper procedure to wait at the scene for a backup unit before searching for perpetrators. He got in his car and started toward Sherri's cabin.

When he called in and reported finding another Big Bend car blown up by the cabin, all hell broke loose. More troopers, county deputies, two more ambulances, a paramedic rescue unit, firemen, people with tracking dogs, and lighting systems brought in by the National Guard were dispatched.

He drove up to the cabin and, while getting out of the car, heard the distant sound of a shotgun. Hearing hunters in the woods wasn't unusual, so he paid little attention to it. As he was walking toward the cabin door, he heard the explosion when the rocket hit Clyde in the back. He instinctively looked upriver toward the noise, knowing that it was much more than a shotgun. Not feeling nearly as impatient as he had a few minutes ago, he decided to wait for help.

He'd turned toward his car to report the explosion, when the case of dynamite exploded. It was something big. Too big. He'd felt it in the ground. He ran to the car, jumped in, and reached for the mike.

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Dan had carried Sherri through the entrance tunnel and into the main cavern. She'd tried to scratch his eyes out, trying to get away, but he hadn't retaliated. Wondering if he was only trying to help her, she tried pleading with him to put her down and go help Tom. He didn't appear to understand.

There wasn't enough light coming through the entrance tunnel for her to get an idea of the size or shape of the cavern, and when they entered the tunnel to the rear, total darkness enveloped them.

A slightly muffled explosion echoed into the cave. Dan stopped, laid Sherri on the ground and ran back.

She jumped to her feet and tried to follow the sound of his rapidly receding footsteps, keeping her left hand touching the wall and the other held out in front of her, feeling for any obstacle in her path. The wall ended abruptly. To the right, she saw a dim oval of light that at first, confused her. She couldn't tell how big it was or how far away it was until a person's silhouette emerged from it. She realized that it was the first tunnel that Dan had carried her through.

"Tom!" she cried out, hoping with her heart rather than seeing with her eyes that it was him. An explosion blasted through the tunnel and blew the silhouette out of her view, somewhere to her left. Dan pushed her to the ground as he ran back into the rear tunnel.

She started to get up, when a tremendous explosion shook the whole mountain. The light from the tunnel disappeared with the thunder of the mountain crashing down around her.

Deafening booms shook the ground as huge chunks of rock fell from the ceiling and crashed to the cavern floor.

Outside, a hundred foot wide by twenty foot thick section of the bluff broke away and crumbled down, blocking the entrance tunnel, and filling the ravine leading to it with rocks the size of pebbles, to boulders as large as a full sized van. It looked as if there had never been a cave or a path leading anywhere.

Inside, it was over with as quickly as it had started. Rocks quit falling from the ceiling, the sounds quit echoing through the tunnel, and soon the rumbling from outside stopped.

It was eerily dark.

She sat up, brushed the small rocks and sand out of her hair and off her shoulders, then reached in her jacket pocket, found her cigarette lighter and flicked it. The small yellow flame didn't give off enough light to cut through the dust filled air to even see the ground. She adjusted the flame to about two inches in height and held it down by her waist. By putting her hand between the light and her eyes, she was able to see through the haze for about ten feet. The wall of the cavern was visible to the left. To her right the light barely cut into the dark void of settling dust, creating a flickering caricature of eerie shapes and shadows.

She knew that the man—or thing! she shuddered—had to be somewhere in front of her on the same side of the cavern. It had to be Tom, she forced herself to believe as she started forward, expecting the ceiling to start falling again at any time.

Estimating that she'd gone about fifty feet, about halfway to where he should be, she stopped and suddenly realized that the lighter was too hot to hold. She pulled her thumb away and stood in the darkness, blowing on the lighter. There was some rumbling outside and a large chunk fell from the ceiling and crashed to the ground somewhere to the right. She instinctively put her left arm over her head knowing how foolish the gesture was.

Total silence and darkness again enveloped her.

Flicking the lighter, she hurried forward, already becoming disoriented as to where the opening had been. She followed the wall, sure that it would curve toward the opening. Something glistened in the darkness in front of her. As she inched forward, the glistening object took shape.

She couldn't believe her luck. It just couldn't be. It was a lantern! With trembling hands she excitedly picked it up and shook it. There was fuel in it! She set it on the ground and pumped the plunger, counting to twelve, then pushed down on the lever that raised the glass. Turning on the valve, she stuck the lighter under the mantle. It caught. As the yellow flame started turning whiter and brighter, the dark gloom around her was pushed farther and farther away.

The pile of what she'd thought were boulders twenty feet in front of her, transformed into an unorganized pile of camping gear and sporting equipment. Momentarily shocked, she suddenly remembered Dan supposedly robbing the hardware store. Obviously, he did.

As she stepped around the pile, she barely noticed the guns, and a red metal fishing tackle box with a white cross on it. Her mind was elsewhere. She held up the lantern and looked around, expecting to see Tom.

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John knew that his leg was all right. It didn't hurt. But his hand was getting too weak to hold the tourniquet. He poked the end of the belt under the part wrapped around his leg and ran it back through the loop and rolled his leg over on top of it. He watched the woods and saw nothing. Other than a slight rustling of the leaves from a lazy, restless breeze, and an occasional bird chirping, he heard nothing. He rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes for a moment to rest them.

Distant sirens wailed in his dreams.

He tried to pick up his gun. It was too heavy to budge. All he could do was hold on to it and pull the trigger. He held the trigger and drifted into peace with the gun bucking in his hand.

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The first three troopers arrived within seconds of each other. Two cars had come from the south and one from the north. Ollie switched to the trooper frequency and told them to send one car to the cabin and one car to each of the Big Bend squad cars.

That was when he heard a long burst of machine-gun fire.

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Sherri panicked. She'd convinced herself that the man she'd seen was Tom, but she could see clearly for at least thirty feet in all directions, and she couldn't find him. Towards the center of the cavern the ground was covered with huge slabs of rock surrounded by hundreds of smaller boulders. She shuddered to think that Tom might be under one of those piles of rocks, or worse yet, under one of the huge slabs.

She frantically looked around. Where the opening had been, was now a wall of boulders spilling out into the cavern. The actual opening into the cavern didn't appear to be damaged at all. It looked as if a giant had simply crammed it full of huge rocks. She could imagine what the outside must look like. It had sounded like the whole bluff had collapsed.

She turned around and tried to estimate the direction and distance the explosion had blown Tom. She thought that he'd been blown to his right as he'd come out of the tunnel, but there was nothing there except the wall and the pile of camping gear.

She walked along the wall toward the gear. As she got closer to it, her heart skipped a beat. A leg was sticking out of the pile! Suddenly, fear of the worst assailed her. Was the leg connected to… She frantically clawed at the pile of supplies and wildly tossed them aside. Reaching Tom's waist, she breathed a sigh of relief. Tom was wedged between the supplies and the wall.

He looked like a rag doll thrown in the corner of a closet. She put her head on his chest and didn't hear any heartbeat. Frantically unzipping his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, she put her ear directly below his sternum.

The faint thumping sound sent chills coursing through her. He was alive!

"Tom. Can you hear me?" she pleaded. "Tom. It's me, Sherri."

She kept repeating herself, hoping to see him move or mumble something. Anything to give her hope. Knowing that if a person's pupils contracted, it was a good sign, she pushed up on his left eyelid with her right thumb and held the lantern up. His pupil was as big as a pea until the light got close. Then it shrank to the size of a BB. She kissed his forehead, a joyful sob briefly shook her body, a happy tear coursed down her cheek.

Wiping the tear with her sleeve, she began gently feeling all over his body, looking for signs of a major injury. Finding nothing critical, no jagged bones sticking through anywhere, no misshapened limbs, and no serious bleeding, she focused on the bullet wound in his left arm.

Checking his jacket, she found an entrance and exit hole near the shoulder. There had been very little bleeding and no fresh blood was flowing, indicating a clean wound that wasn't in immediate need of attention. The most important thing now was to get him comfortable and warm.

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Tom felt fingers tenderly exploring his body. He didn't know where he was, and didn't remember what had happened but he felt secure under the probing hands. Everywhere the fingers touched, he felt something special. He tried to shake the black fog from his head. It receded slowly. He caught a glimpse of an angel, then more black fog drifted in and lingered and started to disperse, only to come back. The darkness blotted out the angel.

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Dan had already known that the other one was alive. He didn't know why he hadn't killed it. They were slimy looking monsters to him. They were food. They were the enemy, but he didn't feel threatened. They didn't want to kill him. He didn't understand. He understood male, female. He was male. His female was hurt by one of the soft, weak things that made big noises.

He walked over and looked down at the hurt one. The female looked up and made some noises. He didn't have the urge to kill her. He reached down and picked up the hurt one and carried it back through the tunnel into the rear cavern. The female walked beside him and made noises.

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When Dan came over, Sherri had asked if he'd help. He'd reached down, picked up Tom and started for the rear tunnel. Sherri picked up the lantern and followed. Then she remembered the box with the white cross on it. She retrieved it, then hurriedly rejoined Dan and Tom. She tried to talk to him, but he ignored her. There didn't seem to be any recognition in his eyes as there had been when he was carrying the smaller one back to the cave.

When they entered the second cavern, Dan carried Tom over to the wall and laid him down next to the smaller one.

Sherri didn't feel threatened by Dan until she stepped closer and saw the pile of what looked like human bones.

Some of the bones still had meat on them.

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When the trooper arrived at the cabin, Ollie told him about hearing the machine-gun fire and that he'd called for a Forest Ranger to bring out a four-wheel drive vehicle.

While they were waiting, they checked out the cabin. He immediately knew that they were on to something when he saw the briefcase communications device full of bullet holes, the overturned chair and several pieces of rope laying on the floor. While they were looking around, two more troopers and a paramedic unit arrived.

As Ollie walked out to meet them, a ranger arrived in a jeep, followed by an unmarked trooper staff car.

Lieutenant Bill Reineke got out of the staff car and briskly walked over to Ollie and extended a bony hand.

"Ollie, what have you got here?" the balding, big-toothed, mustached owner of the skinny hands asked. Under better circumstances, Ollie would have smiled, not to be friendly, but at the funny looking little man, the Commander of Trooper Section Four, which included Crawford, Nelson, and Burton Counties.

"We've got one hell of a mess up here, Bill," Ollie said pointing back toward the highway. "One cop dead in that first car, and," nodding toward the cabin, "it looks like two people were held prisoner here. A few minutes ago I heard two explosions and some machine-gun fire upriver." He stopped to watch the astonished look spread over Bill's face. "When the lab boys get here, have them go over this cabin first thing, then we'll use it as our headquarters."

"Do you think that this has anything to do with your man getting killed this morning?"

"As a cop, you know that the best way to overlook the obvious is to believe in coincidence."

"Yeah, but—"

"Those two Big Bend cruisers with two cops in each went by the scene this morning without even slowing down. A few minutes before that, a gang of bikers went by. Find out what the Big Bend cops were doing here. As a matter of fact, get Chief Marlow up here. Meanwhile, I'm going to take two of your men and the ranger and go upriver."

"Don't you think—"

"Get every man you can, and start searching this whole area. When the SWAT team from Olympia gets here, send them upriver to meet me."

Ollie turned to the two troopers standing beside the car. "Get your shotguns and hop in that ranger jeep." He then went to his car, got his shotgun and an extra box of shells from the trunk.

Bill watched them drive down to the river, turn right, and head upriver. He walked to his car, mumbling to himself, trying to figure out where to begin.

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Dan stood back while Sherri stared at the bones laying by the smaller one. She watched him wearily, trying to figure out his intentions. Was she supper or was he actually going to help her? As if sensing her trepidation, he backed up a couple steps, stood there a moment, then turned and walked to the far end of the cavern and dropped into a large hole in the floor. Sherri heard a slight splash of water and then silence. She breathed a sigh of relief for the momentary respite.

She thought about going back to the other cavern to get a gun and look through the pile of camping supplies, when she noticed another smaller pile of things against the wall by the tunnel. Looking through it, she found three sleeping bags still in their clear plastic carrying bags, an ax, a portable space-heater, a tent still in its box, a box of nails, a foot pump for inflating rafts, but no raft, and several other senseless items.

She remembered what John had said about the meteorite affecting brain cells. By looking at the items that Dan had apparently placed value on, she could see that his idea of value was confused. She decided against going for a gun and picked up a sleeping bag instead.

It had been several minutes since Dan had dropped into the hole and disappeared. She set the sleeping bag down beside Tom, walked over to the hole and looked down, expecting to see Dan sitting by a small spring or puddle. She wasn't prepared for the large pool of crystal clear water, at least forty to fifty feet deep, and slightly illuminated by what looked like a basketball sized moon laying on the bottom. The water was teeming with fish, from the size of minnows to some over two feet long, swimming in lazy circles around the glowing object. To her right a ten foot diameter tunnel, two-thirds under water, led back into the cavern wall. Toward the bottom of the pool were several smaller tunnels at various depths and going in several different directions. Some appeared large enough for her to stand up in.

A fish came out of the large tunnel and swam down into one of the smaller ones. Unless the water was playing tricks on her eyes, it looked three feet long. Easily the biggest fish she'd ever seen in real life.

Suddenly, a cloud of dirt billowed out of the tunnel where the fish had gone. She watched, fascinated. The fish backed out of the tunnel, flopping its tail back and forth violently. Then Dan appeared with a hand on either side of the fish's head. He kicked up from the bottom, dragging the fish with him.

Upon reaching the surface, he threw the fish into the middle of the cavern and climbed out of the water. Sherri jumped back and watched him go to the flopping fish. Holding it with one hand, he hit it on the head with his fist. It stopped flopping. He looked at Sherri and she could have sworn that he was smiling.

Then he jabbed his fingers into the side of the fish, tore a chunk of meat off, and held it out toward her. She stepped back and alternately looked at the piece of fish and at Dan's eyes. He watched her for a minute, then took a bite of the fish and extended his hand back toward her. Taking another step back, she held up the palm of her right hand and shook her head. He looked down at the fish and started eating in earnest.

Sherri went back, picked up the sleeping bag and spread it out beside Tom. She worked him over onto it and removed his pants.

Except for a few small cuts and scrapes, his legs seemed to be all right. She began cleaning and dressing the wounds. When finished with his legs, she covered them with the top half of the sleeping bag and removed his shirt. His chest didn't have a scratch on it, but his back had numerous cuts caused by flying rocks. She picked out several pieces that had punctured the skin. After dressing them, she ran her fingers affectionately through his hair, and found out why he hadn't regained consciousness. Her fingers found a lump that felt like half a golf ball inserted between his skull and scalp.

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Lieutenant Reineke hadn't been able to get the Big Bend Police Department on the radio. He called his sub-station and told them to relay the sheriff's request to Chief Marlow by phone. He'd just gotten word that the men from the lab had arrived and were checking the cop car with the body in it, and that the SWAT team would be at the cabin in a couple minutes

"Reineke, this is Matson," came over the speaker. The Lieutenant winced when he heard the improper radio procedure.

"This is Command, over."

"Bill, we've got a red Dodge Viper, license number Victor 65-382 registered to Sherri Blake, about a half mile from the cabin. Find out if it has been reported stolen. If so, when and from where."

______________________

Reineke grabbed the other microphone and called the sub-station again. There was no report of the car being stolen, and there was no answer at the police station. It seemed unlikely that their phones were out of order. He told them to have a trooper check it out.

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"Hold it right here," Ollie said needlessly. The ranger's foot was already heading for the brake. Ollie knew immediately that the charcoal looking thing sticking out from under the motorcycle was a burned body. When they walked up to it the ranger gagged and stepped back a couple steps, bumping into one of the troopers. Ollie saw the handcuffs laying on the ground beside the body.

"Look over there," the taller of the two troopers said, pointing up the road. Ollie turned and saw another body dressed in gang clothes lying beside the road, but what really attracted his attention lie ten feet closer; a policeman's cap, the badge glistening proudly in the sunlight.

"Good God, this must be the body of another cop," Ollie said, repugnantly. He stomped over to the cap and picked it up. The badge said "Big Bend Police." He smirked at the biker's body for a few seconds, then his eyes wandered to an object farther up the road. The earring had caught his attention just as it had Kawalski. The short trooper walked over to look at the biker and saw the sheriff looking down the road. His eyes also stopped on the earring.

"Go see what that is," Ollie told him

"You mean you think that's…"

"Yeah." Ollie turned and walked back to the jeep to call Reineke.

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The lieutenant had just relayed Ollie's request and tossed the mike onto the seat when he heard, "Reineke, this is Matson," He shook his head and picked up the other mike.

"This is Command, over."

"Bill, we've got another Big Bend cop up here, turned to toast."

"Toast? Do you mean burned? Over."

"Yeah, and one biker ripped up with what looks like three-aught buck, believe it or not, and another biker who left his head laying beside the road."

"His head?" Believe it or not about the buckshot? What about the head! Reineke shook his and almost dropped the mike.

"Yep. Get that SWAT team up here as soon as they show up."

"They're just pulling up now, Sheriff."

"Good. We're about a mile or so upriver. And get every man you can and have them search the woods between the bluff and the river. Oh, and get the paramedic unit up here. Who knows what we'll find. You sure as hell don't need it back there."

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Captain Frank Burkholtz, Commander of Olympia County's SWAT team and Ollie's second-in-command was the lone member of the six man unit that had actual big city SWAT team training. Ten years of experience in Chicago had turned him into an efficient, hard-nosed cop able to deal with practically any situation. The other five, four ex-Military Police, and Max Jordan, an ex-cop from Miami, gave him a tough, commando-quality squad, over qualified for the mundane requirements of the normally sleepy rural area.

They were given a uniform and a badge identifying them as Special Deputy Sheriffs. Max Jordan was honored with the rank of Sergeant because of his past police officer experience. The others were given the rank of Corporal, the minimum rank allowed on the SWAT team. They were paid two hundred and ten dollars a month, which required them to spend one Saturday a month in training, plus fifty dollars for every call of four hours or less. Over four hours would net them some overtime pay, which was rare, but today looked like it was going to be one of those days.

Reineke quickly briefed Burkholtz, sending him running to the van and roaring up the river.

Burkholtz had moved to Olympia to give his family a better environment, but the lack of action was an unrelenting drain on his fighting spirit. He remembered vividly how the last call had gotten his adrenaline pumping, only to leave him feeling foolish and disappointed.

It had been over a month ago. A drunk had beaten up his wife and taken a potshot at a police car with a .22. By the time he'd arrived on the scene, the drunk had passed out and they ended up having to save the guy from his wife. She'd knocked out half of his teeth with a frying pan before Frank had realized that the wife's cussing and the bong of the frying pan smacking her husband in the face indicated that she'd become the aggressor and the poor old drunk the victim.

The men had heard the quick briefing given Burkholtz by the trooper, and were giving their gear and weapons a final check. He could tell that they also were pleased to be doing something worthwhile for a change. They all shared one common trait necessary for someone to volunteer for SWAT team duty. They belonged to what they considered an elite group, the two percent of the soldiers that actually wanted to fight.

Burkholtz pulled up behind the ranger jeep and they stoically filed out of the van in precise military fashion.

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Ollie used to laugh at how gung-ho Burkholtz and his men were. He wasn't laughing now. Seeing them double-time up to him, their weapons at port arms and decked out in full gear, fit the seriousness of the situation.

They stopped in front of Ollie, and Burkholtz asked, "What have you got, Sheriff?"

"We've got two dead cops and two dead bikers so far. I heard two huge explosions and machine-gun fire further north about thirty minutes ago." He paused to see their reaction. Ollie had always thought that they were a little crazy. The look in their eyes as they glanced at each other confirmed it.

"You got any idea where?" Burkholtz asked.

"The only thing that I'm sure of is that it was on this side of the river and it sounded like it was a good distance from the cabin." He turned to the ranger. "You know this area pretty well?"

"I know the whole county especially well," he said dead-panned.

"Good. What's upriver from here?"

"Just more woods for almost two miles, then the bluff curves right up to the edge of the river. Are you sure the shots didn't come from the river or the top of the bluff?"

"Goddamnit, we didn't cover the river!" Ollie ran to the jeep and grabbed the mike.

"Reineke, this is the Sheriff."

"Sheriff, this is Command, over."

"I don't care where you have to get them, but I want two helicopters covering the river for twenty miles in both directions, and some boats in the water. I want every boat stopped, searched, and the people ID'ed and a make ran on them. And have the roadblocks check out everyone towing a boat. Check them for weapons, drugs, booze, burned out tail lights, and anything else you can think of. And get a chopper to help us search the woods. Make sure it has searchlights. It's going to be dark before we get through. You got it?"

"Roger, Sheriff, I'll get right on it."

Ollie tossed the mike on the driver's seat and walked back to the men.

"The shots could have come from the river, but I think I'd have been able to tell if they'd come from the top of the bluff."

The ranger thought a moment. "That means that unless they're in a boat, they're trapped in the woods."

"Good. Then let's find them. Burke, do all of your men have radios?"

"It's standard equipment for all SWAT team members. They're all on a special tactical frequency. My radio monitors two channels simultaneously. Any communications to or from my men must go through me or, in the event something happens to me, my second-in-command, Sergeant Jordan, who also has a dual radio."

"What happens if something happens to both of you?"

"We pull back and wait for more help," he answered without hesitation, proudly demonstrating his command of procedures. "Our number one priority is containment. Usually, time is on our side."

Ollie put his hand on Burke's shoulder. "Okay, spread your men out from here to the bluff so they won't have anywhere to go."

Burkholtz estimated that the bluff was five hundred yards away. "Smitty, I want you about twenty yards from the bluff. The rest of you stay about eighty yards apart and work forty yards on both sides of you. Wade, you're next, then Max, Pete, Harry, and me." He slapped Smitty on the back. "GO."

"Burke, I'm going to send these two troopers along the road in front of me. I'll move up the road at the same speed as you. It'll help a little bit until we get more help."

Frank nodded. Ollie motioned for the troopers to take off.

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Marie practically lived at the jail. Her shift this week was from four to midnight, but the chief had told her to come in at eight this morning and stay until he got back. When she'd arrived at the station, she heard nothing but complaints from Sergeant Tim Wiloby, the next in command, after the chief, and Lieutenant Bains.

"What in the hell is going on around here, Marie?"

"How in the hell should I know? Didn't you see me just walk in the door?"

"The day-men are supposed to be here fifteen minutes before shift change, and the Chief and Joe are always here by seven-thirty. Shit, Al and me are tired."

"Go on home. I'll get somebody in here."

"Hey, thanks. Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, no problem. Get your butt outta here."

That was eight hours ago and the only one Marie had been able to locate was the new guy, Ray Simpson. He wasn't good for anything. All he did was ride from hamburger stand to donut shop to restaurants, mooching whatever he could get.

Marie always brought her lunch. Usually, one sandwich and an apple or a pear or a banana, and sometimes when she felt like she could afford to gain a pound or two, a pack of Twinkies or chips. The last few days she'd been bringing twice as much food and still had to ask one of the guys to bring her a couple burgers or something when one of them went to lunch. Today, three sandwiches with six slices of lunch meat and three slices of cheese on each hadn't been enough. It was only four o'clock and she was already starving.

She turned off the radio, locked up, and walked the block and a half to the pizza parlor, determined to get rid of the hunger pangs.

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Sherri had fashioned a pillow from a blanket, trying to make Tom more comfortable. He'd shown no signs of regaining consciousness nor moved a muscle since she'd found him. What else could she do? She decided to at least make their area more livable. She went to the first cavern to scavenge.

Top priority; a gun. She picked out a .45 automatic, a holster that it fit into reasonably well, several boxes of shells, and three extra clips. She put the holster on her belt, loaded the gun, and loaded the extra clips.

Sorting through the pile, she set aside a two-burner camping stove, a set of camping skillets and pans, a pack of camping style silverware, another Coleman lantern, a battery operated lantern and two extra six volt batteries, a long hunting knife in a sheath with a serrated fish-scaling edge on the back side, and four more cans of Coleman fuel. That made eight cans in all. She filled and lit the lantern so she wouldn't have to carry one back and forth every trip.

Her first order of business was to get the stove set up and cook some fish, if Dan hadn't eaten the whole thing.

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Ollie was relieved when a trooper car pulled up with four more fit looking troopers. He immediately had them pile into the jeep and told the ranger to take them upriver to the bluff and to space them back this way on the road within sight of each other. He didn't know how many men it would take to completely cover access to the river, but at least it was a start.

A station wagon came roaring up the road, slid to a stop, and six men in cowboy duds, complete with holstered guns, piled out. They were, in their own minds, the pride of the county. The volunteer deputies. Usually more trouble than they were worth, but this time he was glad to see them. At least they could see, and were able to fire a warning shot if somebody tried to get past them. Hoping they wouldn't accidentally shoot one of the good guys, he told them what to do and sent them up the road. Then he radioed Burkholtz and informed him of their presence and that they had the road covered.

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Sherri had never been very fond of fish, but after the strenuous day she'd experienced, and not having eaten since breakfast, even the smell of boiling fish made her mouth water.

While it was cooking, she zipped another sleeping bag onto Tom's, then filled and lit the space-heater. It wouldn't do much good in a room that was at least eighty feet in diameter with a ceiling about twelve foot high in the middle, but it might help ward off some of the dank chill in her immediate area.

Dan gave her the creeps. He used to be five-nine, now he was over seven feet tall. His dark green alligator-like skin appeared to be decaying and peeling off in large patches. In the peeled areas a more defined scaly material seemed to be forming. The back of his fingers had a ridge of black bony material extending from his knuckles to the tips, making them look more like claws than fingers.

At times he looked innocent and helpless as he followed her around, looking over her shoulder like a giant child. But when she'd lit the stove, he'd jumped back and actually growled at her, looking like he was going to attack. She'd calmly placed the pan of fish on the stove and walked over to check on Tom. Dan had looked at her, then at the fire, and then back at her, his anger fading into a look of puzzlement.

Sherri felt Tom's pulse for the hundredth time. It was weak but steady. She didn't like the feel of his skin. It was too cool.

Dan knelt beside the smaller one and imitated Sherri. The smaller one hadn't moved since Sherri had first seen it. She wanted to feel its pulse, check it out, but Dan watched her warily anytime she got near it.

"Would you like a sleeping bag for…?" she asked, handing him the remaining bag. He grabbed it, made a guttural sound, and threw it away.

She went to the stove and poured the water from the frying pan into a sauce pan to have broth for Tom if he regained consciousness, then picked up a fork and walked back and sat down beside him. She tore off a piece of fish with her fork, blew on it a few seconds, and ate it.

Dan watched her intently.

She picked up another piece and offered it to him. He grabbed it, put it up to his nose, sniffed it and threw it away. She ate alone, silently, completely ignoring him. She prayed that Tom would regain consciousness, and soon. The way Dan watched her eat gave her the creeps.

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Max Jordan saw something glitter through the briar entangled brush. He backtracked a few steps and veered to the left where the undergrowth was sparse. Skirting a large cedar, he saw the cab of a truck. It had crashed into a boulder and burned. The hood and front fenders were buckled and both doors were open. The bed was ripped to shreds and the rear axle with part of the chassis and shiny rear bumper—what he'd seen glittering—was still connected to it, lying twenty feet behind the truck.

Max ran to the driver's side door and looked in, expecting to find one or more charred bodies. The inside of the cab had been completely gutted by fire, but there were no bodies. Not even a piece of anybody. Everything but metal was either burned or melted. All that remained was the frame and springs of the seat, the skeleton of a steering wheel, and the center strip of the dash. Where the gauges had been, were now burned out holes.

The back of the seat had tipped forward and was leaning against the steering wheel. Max looked behind the seat and then pushed it back in the upright position. The glove compartment door was open, but the compartment itself had burned, the remains of its contents were on the floor of the truck.

He walked around to the passenger side and raked through the items. There was a can opener, two keys, a pair of pliers, a screwdriver minus the handle, a metallic rim of what had probably been a pair of sunglasses, and several small screws and nuts.

He started to back out of the truck when something caught his eye. It was nothing but a rock, but he thought it had sparkled. He picked it up and wiped off the soot and ashes on his pants. He looked at it for a full minute, entranced by the intricate lines and colored specks. Being an amateur jeweler, he thought it would make a nice pendant for his twelve-year old daughter, Cindy. He slipped it into his pocket and pulled the radio from his belt.

______________________

Ollie had just gotten off the radio with Reineke, having relayed the report by the troopers of finding the trike. "That's going to bring out the big boys," he said to himself. Finding grenades and plastic explosives always got the attention of the military and the Anti-Terrorist Units. He dreaded all of the help he was going to receive.

Captain Burkholtz had just completed a swing toward the road and waved at the sheriff when Max's call came over the radio.

"Burkholtz here."

"Captain, I've found a pickup over here that's crashed into a boulder and the bed looks like it was blown to pieces. It's burned up and there's nobody in or around it."

"Stay right there. The rest of you men hold your ground until I get back to you." He switched his transmit channel to the sheriff's frequency. "Sheriff, this is Burkholtz, over."

"Yeah, Cap."

"Max has found a wrecked pickup that has been blown up. He's the fourth man over, so he's about two hundred fifty yards from the bluff."

"Tell everybody to stay where they are. I'm going to have a look at it. Oh, and tell your men I don't want to get shot going through these goddamned woods."

"Roger, Burkholtz out."

______________________

The ranger pulled up as Ollie was clipping the radio onto his belt. He jumped into the jeep and issued directions. The jeep had no trouble negotiating through the brush, rocks, and trees, except for one spot where there was a slight hill strewn with rocks sticking out of the ground. After taking a slight detour, they came out into a clearing right beside the truck. Ollie saw Max about a hundred feet beyond it, staring at something laying on the ground. When Max saw them he began frantically motioning.

"Let's see what he wants," Ollie said.

"Looks like something laying on the ground."

Ollie nodded and grabbed the door handle. Before the truck had come to a stop, he pushed the door open and jumped out.

"Look at this thing!" Max hollered.

Ollie knelt beside it. "What in the hell is it?" he asked, looking up and down the body, his eyes stopping at the hole filled with coagulated blood where the thing's head had been.

"I don't know," Max said shaking his head. It looks like a gorilla with lizard skin."

Ollie took the radio off his belt and called Reineke. "Get a lab crew and the coroner up here on the double. We're just over two miles upriver. I'll have the ranger waiting on the road."

"Roger, Sheriff. I'll get the lab crew on the way immediately. The coroner will be a few minutes behind. Right now he's down at the river checking out the body of another biker that was found snagged on a tree in the water." Reineke waited for the sheriff to respond. He didn't. "Oh, and Sheriff, my men just found a pickup and a motorcycle in a gully back by the highway, and a brand new Mercury Marquis parked in the woods by the cabin. We're checking them out now. Over."

Ollie switched channels on his radio and turned to Max, "Surely this thing wasn't the driver. Did you search the area, yet?"

"No sir, Sheriff. I'm still holding containment on anyone upriver. If you want, I'll ask the Captain—"

"No you continue sweeping the woods. I'll handle this."

Ollie keyed the radio, "Burkholtz, I'm going to stay here and wait for the lab boys. You and your men continue your search." Max was watching the sheriff as his own radio received the instructions from the captain.

Ollie put his hand on the ranger's shoulder. "You get back to the road and wait for the coroner and the lab boys." Still speechless, the ranger nodded and ran to the jeep.

Ollie started back toward the truck. He stopped at the rear part of the chassis that still had the license plate connected to the bumper. He reached for his radio to call Reineke again.

______________________

Now that Ollie had six troopers on the road and the six men in the woods, he radioed instructions for them to tighten the net. He wanted the troopers to gradually work in from the river and for Burke's men to continue going upriver on an increasingly tighter sweep.

He wasn't prepared for the amount of reports that started pouring in. The first one was from Trooper Marvin Davis who was the furthest man upriver. He reported finding a sergeant of the Big Bend Police. He failed to report that an unusual rock fell out of the man's pocket when he turned him over. It was an insignificant, pretty little bauble his twelve-year old son, Jeff could add to his rock collection, so he slipped it into his pocket.

The SWAT team found one body after another. Pete Reese came across the grisly remains of Hank's body. Wade found a biker, big enough to be a professional wrestler, ripped and mangled like he'd been in the ring with Godzilla. Smitty found pieces of what he thinks might be an exploded alligator. He dreaded reporting it, knowing that they'd think he was crazy. Finding the relatively normal gunshot murdered body of Guido, and a man in regular clothes, practically cut in half by what was obviously a machine gun burst, helped temper his imagination.

A trooper literally stumbled upon Sue's body. It sickened him to see the body of a beautiful young girl with three bullet holes in her. He didn't know that his tales of the search would be the least interesting.

There were two separate reports from troopers that described apparent death struggles, complete with blood and body parts, but they couldn't find a torso.

Ollie told Reineke to get some more coroners from whatever city he could borrow them from.

Reineke's frustration was apparent. "I've got reporters from every town within a hundred miles showing up here. What should I do about them?"

"Blockade the goddamned road at the highway and get rid of the ones that are already here."

"But if I don't tell them something, you know how they blow everything out of proportion."

Ollie thought a few seconds. "Just tell them that if they come back here, they'll be shot, accidentally."

Reineke changed to a more formal tone. "I can't tell them that, Sheriff Matson."

"Yeah, I know. Look, I don't have time for public relations. You handle it however you want to, just keep them out of here."

"Roger, Sheriff. Command out."

Ollie dreaded the arrival of the big boys from the state. Reineke was only a mere sample of the bureaucratic nightmare that was inevitable. With elections coming up in just over a week, there would be a lot of people trying to put a vote in the box with their name on it. And Ollie needed a few votes himself, if he really wanted to keep the job. His lock on the Sheriff's Office was being challenged more every election by the new breed of young college taught politicians who wouldn't know which end of a gun the bullet came out of if they hadn't seen it in the movies. Sometimes he wondered if it was really worth it.

"Sheriff, this is Burkholtz. Smitty just found two more Big Bend cops. They've been shot and you're not going to like it."

"I haven't seen anything around here that I do like."

"It's Chief Marlow, and," Frank paused, dreading to tell the sheriff about his brother-in-law, "it's Sergeant Kawalski, sir."

Ollie's sister's face flashed in his mind. He could see her standing in front of the stove, stirring something special, with her three youngest kids hanging around the kitchen, their mouth's watering, waiting for their father to drive up at precisely the time when their mother announced that, "Supper is ready." He always did. Just like clockwork. They already knew that if he hadn't called by now, he'd be walking in the door at exactly five-fifteen.

Ollie had a rare longing to go home to his wife. He hoped that she'd vote against him. He was going to.

His radio crackled, "Sheriff, this is Trooper McGee. There's a man up here by the bluff that's still alive. He's unconscious, but it looks like he's only been shot in the leg."

"Can we get the paramedic van in to you?"

"I don't think so. I think we'll have to carry him to the river on a stretcher. Have them come up as far as they can and we'll meet them."

Ollie started to go with the paramedics, but decided against it. He couldn't learn anything from an unconscious man and he felt more needed where he was. "Let me know immediately, if he regains consciousness."

"Will do, Sheriff."

______________________

Dan made some noises to Sherri, then jumped into the water.

She sat with Tom for a couple minutes. Her curiosity overcame her common sense. She walked over to the hole and looked down.

Dan had the glowing object in one arm and was trying to scale up the side of the hole with it. Holding the thing between his chest and the side of the hole, he was able to get a grip with one hand and slide the object up a couple feet. Then he'd wedge it against the wall with his chest and search for another grip, and repeat the process.

She watched in awe at how he was able to climb up a practically smooth surface, and how he could stay underwater for so long. He'd already been down longer than any human could possibly stay submerged. She shuddered at what that meant.

When he got to within fifteen feet of the surface, she noticed that his mouth was open, and because of the dirt that he was stirring up with his clawing fingers, she could see the water rushing in and out of his mouth. It looked to her as if he was breathing water.

Just before his hand broke the surface, it dawned on her, what he was bringing up.

It was the meteorite! It had to be! She'd thought that is was only a phosphorous covered rock as she'd seen in cave pictures.

She started to bolt from the hole, but she couldn't leave Tom. She reached for her gun, hoping to be able to stop him, when his hand slipped and he slid back from the wall, the rock pulling him down.

He released it and shot to the surface.

Sherri backed across the cavern to Tom and waited.

Dan climbed out of the hole and stood at the edge glaring at her. She had the feeling that he wanted to grab her and drag her into the water with him. He turned around and stared into the hole.

She sat beside Tom and put her hand on his forehead. It still felt too cold. He stirred and made a gurgling noise.

"Tom. Wake up. It's me, Sherri. Please, baby. Wake up," She talked to him for several minutes, urging, begging. He didn't move or make another sound. She sat beside him for several minutes listening to him breath. She hoped it wasn't wishful thinking, but he seemed to be breathing deeper, like a person about to begin snoring. She yearned to hear something from him, even a snore would be better than nothing.

Dan walked over and sat down by the smaller one, picked up a bone and began gnawing the remaining meat off it.

Sherri slid her hand to her gun butt and vowed to check out the guns and see if there wasn't something more powerful than the .45. A .44 Magnum for her hip and a .460 Weatherby Magnum elephant gun—the most powerful rifle on the market—shooting a 500 grain bullet with over 8000 foot pounds of energy might even the odds a bit. At least, she wanted to believe that something could.

______________________

It had been dark for two hours when Ollie got back to the cabin. Reineke met him holding a clipboard with a dozen sheets of much maligned paper clipped to it.

"What's the word from the hospital?" Ollie asked.

"They said that he'd make it, but he might lose a leg. He passed out with a tourniquet on it."

"Who is he?"

"He didn't have any ID, Sheriff."

"Do you have a description of him?"

"Let's see…" Reineke thumbed through several sheets of paper. "…ah, here it is. Male Caucasian, slightly graying brown hair, gray-blue eyes, tall, about six-two, weight about two-ten, forty to forty-five, shot twice in the left leg."

There wasn't any doubt in Ollie's mind that the two men wearing suits were the same two men that he'd talked to at the scene of Speer's murder, but he didn't remember their names.

"They're probably the two men I talked to this morning. One was with the FBI and the other was a geologist. I don't remember which was which. Call their descriptions into the FBI, with luck," he said sarcastically, "somebody will know who they are."

Reineke let out a whistle.

With difficulty, Ollie ignored it. "Any ID on the girl, yet?" Ollie asked, expecting it to be Sherri Blake's body.

"None, but the coroner called a few minutes ago and said the Fax of Blake's driver's license came in and it isn't her." Reineke flipped to another sheet of paper. "Oh, the other man found in normal civilian clothes had an ID on him. Get this, he was the Crawford County Assayer, Ed Bailes. What do you suppose he was doing here?"

"Hell, I don't know what any of them were doing here. They sure as hell weren't having a picnic."

Reineke stood waiting for further instructions

Ollie walked away shaking his head.

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