Authors: Gary Barnes
Automobile brakes screeched. A pickup truck skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection. A man stepped out, grabbed his Winchester 30-30 carbine rifle from the truck's gun rack, took aim, and fired.
The alien threatening the woman immediately collapsed in a heap upon the ground. But the shooter was simultaneously pounced upon and group-attacked by five young aliens the size of cocker spaniels. The menacing group had approached from his blind side and took him down. He rolled under the pickup, pursued by the five young aliens. Another shot was fired, then silence. Then the five young aliens scampered from under the pickup truck as a trickle of blood oozed into the street.
Clayton grabbed Larry by the shoulder and spun him around to look directly into his eyes. “I never expected anything like this. We'll have to make a run for it.”
The three men started to run for the Hummer, but were immediately confronted by a large creature on all fours emerging from between two parked cars. Threateningly, the alien backed them against the side of the restaurant, though it was extremely unsteady on its feet. Thick saliva drooled from its mouth and puss oozed from open sores on its body. Some of the skin on its back and legs was sloughing off and its underbelly had changed from a light green to a crimson red. The creature staggered somewhat. Then it stubbed its right front foot and tripped, crashing its jaw onto the pavement. Quickly the creature scrambled to an upright position, standing on its hind legs and rising to a height of over seven feet.
Just as the alien was about to lunge at the trio it shook with a violent convulsion, then collapsed. Clayton's instincts took over. He rushed to the alien's side.
Larry held back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you crazy?!” he yelled. “That thing just tried to eat us.”
“But it's sick!” replied Clayton.
The alien took a couple of labored, gurgling breaths, went into one last convulsion, then died. Clayton was visibly saddened by the loss of the alien. “Bring the Hummer over and we'll load it onto the boat trailer. I've got to find out what killed it.”
“And when we find out we'll use that info to kill the rest of them,” added Larry.
Clayton flashed Larry a look of disdain.
=/\=
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-F
OUR
Lab
Thirty minutes later as the dead alien lay on the trailer parked alongside the portable lab, Clayton and Larry scraped samples from its skin and underbelly while Welton held a Coleman lantern.
“Clayton, my friend, I must share my concerns regarding the tremendous aggressiveness of these creatures,” Welton confessed.
“I understand. I never expected them to be this aggressive either,” Clayton replied.
“None of us did,” interjected Larry. “But now that we know, we’ve got to do something about it. We’ve got to stop them before things get worse.”
“I think you’re right,” said Welton. “But how do we go about it?”
“Well, for starters we find out what killed this one,” Larry explained.
“Something sure made it sick,” said Welton.
“I just don’t understand it,” Clayton chimed in as if he hadn’t been listening to any of the conversation. “There was no sign of disease on any of the aliens we saw at the cave or at the swimming hole.”
*
Inside the trailer lab Clayton was hunched over a microscope peering at the samples they had just collected. He dropped various stains onto the slides to enhance and give contrast to the organisms he was examining. Based upon the physical symptoms of the alien and its behavioral characteristics just before it died, Clayton was convinced that it had succumbed to Chytrid. Under normal conditions a standard H&E stain would have confirmed his supposition. But Clayton was frustrated, because this time the test proved inconclusive. He switched to PAS (Periodic Acid Schiff) and two silver stains. These also failed to reveal the identity of the deadly pathogen. Finally, after using an oil immersion while examining the specimens at x1000 power, he was able to obtain definite confirmation.
“Just as I suspected, Chytrid!” spouted Clayton triumphantly, yet angrily. “Isn’t that just like the logging industry. Not only do they pollute our world causing the death and destruction of our animal life and environment, now their pollution’s causing the death of a species from another planet!”
“What do you mean! That's wonderful! Amphibian Ebola to the rescue,” exclaimed Larry delightedly. “Now we just let nature take its course.”
Clayton looked up from the microscope and spoke very seriously, as if trying to convince himself, “I've spent thirty-five years saving amphibians, I can't helplessly stand by and allow this species to become extinct without trying to prevent it.”
“You’re worried about
them
becoming extinct?!” Larry exploded. “We’re the ones who are at the bottom of
their
food chain!”
“No! It’s precisely the arrogance of man that threatens the existence of life on this planet and now the universe. We’ve got to stop playing God and meddling in the affairs of nature!” Clayton retorted.
“It’s not about playing God, it’s preserving the dignity and the life of mankind,” Larry argued.
“True dignity would require us to save these aliens, not plot their destruction!” Clayton shot back.
Dr. Welton walked over to Clayton and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Clayton, I’ve looked forward to first contact more than anyone else. It’s a dream I’ve looked forward to realizing all of my life. And now that we have it we must destroy it as quickly as possible or mankind may not be here for second contact.”
Clayton looked up into the understanding eyes of his friend. “I know. I’m just so torn. I spent all afternoon at Opal’s grotto figuring out ways to destroy them, and yet I want to save them. I don’t know what to do,” he lamented.
“But Dr. Clayton,” Larry interrupted. “No other amphibian eats people.”
“And no other amphibian in the area has died of Chytrid. Why?” Clayton returned to the microscope making a few adjustments. “Hand me that reference book!”
Larry passed him the book. Clayton studied the Chytrid pictures then peered into the microscope again. “Uh huh. . . . Take a look at this.”
Clayton stepped aside as Larry approached and peered into the microscope.
“Notice the epithelial tissues?” Clayton rhetorically asked. “The zoosporangia’s feeding in the keratin layers as expected, but they’ve altered their discharge tubes allowing them to penetrate the specific thickness of the alien’s dermal layer.”
Larry raised his head from the microscope and peered inquisitively at Clayton. “Yeah, I see that the Chytrid’s discharge tubes penetrate the alien’s skin, but that’s normal. I guess I haven’t seen enough Chytrid to catch the significance.”
“Here, let me show you another slide,” muttered Clayton, mildly irritated that his student could not see the obvious.
“Look here. I’ve placed a cross-section of a frog’s skin next to a cross section of the alien’s skin. Both of them are infected with Chytrid. Now tell me what differences you see.”
Again Larry approached the microscope, but a little more timidly this time. He peered into the lens, adjusted its focus and then replied, “Well, neither of their skins is very thick - not much more so than a sheet of common paper. As I expected, the Chytrid is confined to only the
stratum corneum
portion of the skin. It resides deep within this section, resting on top of the
stratum lucidum
.” Larry turned a knob on the microscope to change the slide’s position in order to look from another angle. He then continued. “The Chytrid are spherical in shape and they have a discharge tube that penetrates the surface of the skin. They look sort of like an upside-down inflated balloon with the neck of the balloon pointed upward, representing the discharge tube.”
“And what is the purpose of the discharge tube?” demanded Clayton, testing his student’s understanding.
“That’s how they release their zoospores into the surrounding water. That’s how they multiply.”
“Exactly!” echoed Clayton with elation. “The discharge tube has to be long enough to reach from the bottom of the
stratum corneum
, where they feed, to the surface of the epidermis; otherwise the Chytrid cannot reproduce to spread infestation. Now, compare the skins of the two specimens and tell me specifically what you see regarding the relative thicknesses of the various dermal components.”
Again Larry peered into the microscope. “Let’s see . . . the
Stratum germinativum, spinosum, granulosum
and
lucidum
all seem to be about equal, but the alien’s
stratum corneum
layer is almost twice as thick as it is in the frog’s skin.”
“Precisely!” exclaimed Clayton. “The length of the discharge tubes had to be increased to penetrate it. The Chytrid had to mutate or they couldn’t infect the aliens. In short, the tannic acid pollution leaching from the logger’s sawdust piles has not only distressed the aliens, making them extremely susceptible to Chytrid, but has also caused the Chytrid to mutate into a form specifically deadly to the aliens,” Clayton explained.
“You mean the pollution has mutated the stuff so that it can only attack the aliens, and at the same time has made the aliens extremely susceptible to infection?” Larry asked.
“Apparently so,” sighed Clayton.
“Well, hallelujah! Thank God for pollution!” exclaimed Larry.
=/\=
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-F
IVE
Sheriff’s Office
The next morning Clayton’s H-2, with the dead alien still loaded on the trailer, pulled up to the front of Sheriff Aker’s office. Larry parked as near to the front door as he could. Clayton and Welton emerged from the back seat where they had been discussing Clayton’s frustrations. It seemed Clayton had been up all night unsuccessfully trying to find a way to kill the mutated Chytrid, or to at least circumvent its effects upon the alien amphibians. Nevertheless, all his efforts proved fruitless.
Tremendous feelings of guilt welled up within Clayton ever since the discovery of Ellie Jo and the others in the alien’s nesting chamber at Blue Spring. He blamed himself for not having recognized the danger sooner. Yet what could he have done?
On the one hand, he was ecstatic to be the first zoologist to have the opportunity of discovering and working on an alien life form. He had even outlined in his mind the contents of the paper he would soon publish detailing his findings with the aliens.
Publish or perish
, the eternal bane of academia.
Would his peers accept his hypothesis or would they think him crazy for believing in alien life forms
? Clayton wondered.
But surely, once they actually saw his specimens, ran their comparative DNA and verified his findings for themselves there would be no doubt.
Yet in the recesses of his mind Clayton knew that their responses would be the same as his would have been if the tables had been turned.
On the other hand, he was sick when he reflected on the cost of human life that the aliens had already caused – thirty-five confirmed dead and scores more wounded, all within just the past three days; a tremendously heavy toll for such a small community.
Clayton was not so naive as to think that there wouldn’t be others lost as well. He wanted to save the aliens yet realized that because of their intelligence and aggressiveness it would be foolhardy to do so. Admitting to himself that he could not decide what to do only exacerbated his mental anguish, and so his internal turmoil continued without resolution.
*
Inside the office, the Sheriff, the Mayor and Major Reid were deep into a discussion of Reid’s plans when Clayton and his companions entered.
“Good morning gentlemen,” Sheriff Akers gruffly greeted the approaching trio. From the expression on the Sheriff’s face Clayton could easily tell that the topic they were discussing had not set well with him. The Mayor didn’t seem to be any more at ease than did the Sheriff. Obviously, Clayton thought, this military officer must be the investigator that they had been so eagerly expecting, but why should his visit upset the Sheriff and Mayor so visibly?
As they approached Clayton shook hands with the Sheriff and the Mayor.
“Dr. Clayton,” said the Sheriff, making the introductions, “This is Major Reid from Ft. Leonard Wood. He’ll be conducting the investigation.” Then, turning to the Major, he continued, “And this is Dr. Welton and Clayton’s graduate assistant, Larry Beringer.”
Reid stood as erect as a post and cooly eyed Clayton.
Never before had Clayton met a man who projected such an air of superiority.
“Major,” said Clayton as he shook the Major’s hand, “We’ve been expecting you, but from a professional perspective I cannot honestly say that I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” As their hands clasped he gazed into Reid’s cold eyes. Though he could not place where, Clayton had the strangest sensation that they had met before. His mind did not take time to figure it out at that moment, for he had more important business to which he must attend.