Authors: Gary Barnes
Without waiting to learn what Reid had been discussing with the Sheriff and Mayor, Clayton stepped toward the Sheriff and immediately jumped to the purpose of his visit by boldly declaring, “I have a dead alien outside on my trailer!”
“We found two more down by the river near the rock quarry early this morning,” related the Sheriff rather matter-of-factly.
“Then you must know they’re sick.” Clayton turned to face the Mayor. “These creatures have a deadly Chytrid infection. It’s very contagious and will eventually destroy all of them,” he announced.
“That’s great news!” beamed the Mayor, obviously more pleased with Clayton’s news than with the discussion they had been having with the Major.
Clayton looked sick. “I’ve got to find a cure!” he exclaimed, trying to convince himself more than anyone else that this was really the right thing to do. Deep inside he knew that the aliens must be destroyed, but his academic side wasn’t ready to accept that conclusion.
“That won’t be necessary,” announced Major Reid. “My men will be arriving any moment now. Thank you for your assistance but we have the situation totally under control. You can return to your environmental pollution studies.”
For a brief moment Clayton was flattered that this Major knew of his studies. After all, he hadn’t published anything yet regarding his summer’s research, and even if he had, surely the Major would not have read it. Reid’s demeanor had immediately convinced Clayton that he was the type of man who wouldn’t read anything unless it had a direct bearing on his specific mission. He must convince the Mayor to give him more time. He ignored the Major’s comments and continued his pleadings with the Mayor.
“There must be another way to handle this. We’re talking about a life form from another planet as if it were some detestable disease that must be eradicated. Don’t we have a responsibility to protect these aliens?” he petitioned.
“Of course we should, if we could, but we can’t!” asserted the Mayor. “Too many lives would be lost in the process. Our responsibility to people is eminently greater than it is to aliens, other animals, or the environment! Our delays have already cost us thirty-five lives!” He raised one eyebrow and looked seriously at Clayton to drive home his last point. “Just out of curiosity though, how long will it take this
Chytrid
to work?”
“It’s hard to say . . . four to six weeks probably,” Clayton replied.
“Oh! We can’t wait that long!” retorted the Mayor staunchly. “Major,” he sighed regrettably. “You may proceed with your plans.”
Major Reid stared coldly and blankly at the Mayor, locking eyes with him in arrogant condescension. His resolute face showed no emotion of any kind, and his eyes did not blink. In fact, it was precisely his blinkless, stone-faced expression that often caused men in his command to dread his presence. They did not fear him. They simply could not stand to be around him, and they certainly had no respect for him as a person.
Subordinates under Reid’s command strictly followed the unwritten rule of military law, though they applied it to Major Reid for different reasons than they did to other officers,
SALUTE
THE
UNIFORM
,
NOT
THE
MAN
.
Addressing the Mayor with his blinkless expression and air of superiority, Major Reid cooly replied, “Proceed with my plans? Mr. Mayor, I assure you that I had no intention of altering them. Nor do I need your permission for their implementation.”
=/\=
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-S
IX
OperationTrot-Line
At 10:00 a.m. a small military convoy from Ft. Leonard Wood crossed the Jack’s Fork River Bridge and rolled south into Eminence. At the stop sign the convoy turned left onto Highway 106 and proceeded east, past the rock quarry, heading out of town toward the Current River. The lead Humvee, however, broke formation and headed into the heart of town. It pulled to a stop outside the office of Sheriff Akers. A lieutenant disembarked, ascended the steps to the Sheriff’s office and strode inside.
Once inside the office, the lieutenant briskly approached Major Reid and saluted. “Sir, we’ll be setting up a field office downstream from Owl’s Bend. I’ll be your driver.”
Major Reid returned a crisp salute. “Very good. I’ll be with you momentarily.” He then turned to Sheriff Akers, the Mayor and Clayton’s group, and with a very curt yet official delivery style simply stated, “This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure that my men will have your . . .
alligator
problem solved by the end of the day.” He bowed his head slightly, turned sharply on his heels to join the lieutenant and headed through the office door for the Humvee parked outside.
*
Ten minutes later Major Reid’s driver was headed down a narrow, tree-lined dirt road paralleling the Current River which flowed a half-mile to their left. Unexpectedly, the driver pulled into the graveled parking lot beside the Owl’s Bend School House.
The school, a two-story stone building which jutted up against a gently sloping low hill, was built in 1886. The front door, located on the second floor, opened at ground level at the top of the hill. The back door was located at the other end of the building and was placed in the first floor. It also opened at ground level but was located at the bottom of the small hill.
The school house had been used as a one-room school, teaching Kindergarten through eighth grade from 1886 until 1968. Classes were held in the second story while the lower level had been used as a storage and project room. The lower level also housed the boiler system which heated the building.
Classes had never been very large. The entire enrollment seldom exceeded sixty students and was primarily composed of the children of the sharecropper families that lived on the surrounding farms.
When school was in session, all of the children were grouped together according to their study grades. The teacher’s task was to teach all of the children at the same time according to their level of understanding and achievement. Assignments were given to one or more groups of children to work on while the teacher spent time with other groups.
Older students were assigned the task of assisting the teacher in teaching and tutoring the younger students. In this manner not only did the teacher become more effective with her time but lessons became more deeply ingrained in the students; not to mention that their comprehension was broadened as they themselves taught what they knew to younger students. For over three hundred years this was the way that almost all elementary schools in America were run. The system was very effective and in may ways produced better students. It certainly consumed considerably fewer resources than the systems currently employed by the nation’s school districts.
Unfortunately, however, when the Park Service created the Ozark National Scenic Riverways park system in the late 1960s and early 1970s the river-bottom sharecroppers and land owners were forced from their homes, taking their children with them. So few children remained that the Owl’s Bend School District was closed. The students were incorporated into a larger, more
progressive
school district.
Since then the Shannon County Department of Roads converted the school’s building into a parts and repair center for front-end loaders, scrapers, backhoes and other heavy equipment.
Major Reid was infuriated when he saw that his men had selected the old school building as the site for their field office. He stepped from the Hummer and immediately summoned the captain in charge of the setup operation.
“What do you think you’re doing setting up here?” Reid screamed at the captain. “It’s at least a mile-and-a-half to our battle station! I can’t effectively manage
Operation Trot-Line
from this far away. Dismantle this command center and reassemble it at the gravel bar where the road dead-ends.” He turned on his heels and headed back to his vehicle. “Incompetence!” he muttered. “Why am I constantly surrounded by such incompetence!”
Arriving at his vehicle Major Reid climbed in and ordered his driver to proceed to the end of the road.
Five minutes later the driver pulled to a stop at the Current River gravel bar across from where the Blue Spring tributary joined the river. Dismounting the vehicle Major Reid paced restlessly while fomenting at the perceived incompetence of his subordinates.
Within an hour Reid’s men had completed the erection of the field office tent and had moved most of the logistical equipment into it. Beyond the office tent the quartermaster truck was being unloaded. It had been stocked with munitions, an inflatable raft, and other equipment necessary for the success of the mission.
Reid’s detachment consisted of only four squads, barely forty men in total. He intentionally limited the number of personnel to as few infantrymen as possible. He intended to keep a low profile, especially preventing any media coverage. Most importantly, he did not want to validate the stories being circulated among the local citizenry regarding the source of the creature’s origin.
Clayton!
Reid thought.
His meddling in the cleanup operations was the cause for these stories about aliens. Who does Clayton think he is, anyway?
Reid reflected upon their cleanup detail. It had been perfect. He searched his mind for any clue as to how Clayton had discovered the truth. Certainly he and his men had done an excellent job. They covered up all indications of the crash. There was not a trace of the alien space craft left behind. The sink hole disguise was ingenious and they had seamlessly blended it into the surrounding area. The cover story he had released to the local press had worked fine until this professor . . .
Clayton
. . . started poking around. Now Reid looked inept and foolish to his superiors. This could not be tolerated. He had worked hard to gain the confidence of his superiors. His self-perceived reputation of being the man to do things right the first time was being threatened. He wasn’t about to allow anyone to destroy all he had worked so hard to achieve, especially some zoology bookworm. He would see to it that Clayton’s reputation and career suffered beyond repair for his meddling.
The new orders Reid had received were quite simple. He was to immediately eradicate the creatures by whatever means necessary and then spread sufficient disinformation to insure that the truth was never discovered. Any opposition to their mission was to be eliminated with no questions asked. The upper level Brass believed that if the general public ever discovered the truth – that an extraterrestrial space craft had crashed or that intelligent life forms from other planets were visiting earth . . . well . . . who could tell what the public’s reaction might be. But it wouldn’t be good, of that they were in agreement.
Major Reid intended to do his job well.
When I am finished
, he told himself,
the stories swapped at the barbershop would all agree on one thing – the creatures were just a slew of alligators that escaped when a truck transporting them from a Mississippi bayou to a research center in Denver blew a tire on the Owl’s Bend Bridge and careened into the Current River. Aliens? Space ships? Nonsense! And as for Clayton, everyone would think him to be a crackpot.
Yes, the locals would believe his story and Clayton would be discredited. Reid would do his job well.
*
Thirty minutes later Major Reid assembled the men in his detachment under the canopy of the field office tent. The side walls had been rolled up so that it looked more like a pavilion than a tent. Near the front was an easel upon which rested a large topographical map of the immediate area. Flanking it were similar but smaller maps of adjacent areas.
The enlisted men had heard bits and pieces regarding their mission but no one completely understood their objective except for Major Reid. There had been some talk of alligators but the men assumed that this must be some code word for their mission. The military used code words for everything. Once the meeting got underway, however, the men learned that
alligator
was not one of them. Major Reid informed his men that there were hundreds of real alligators loose in the local riverways.
“Men, it’s our job to search out and destroy all traces of the existence of these alligators. They are extremely dangerous and I caution you to not take any chances.” He pointed to an area map and traced the valleys of the Current River and the Jack’s Fork River with a pointer. “We believe that they nest in caves and grottos along these two rivers, here, so we’ll initiate our eradication efforts in this area,” he said as his pointer circled the Owl’s Bend / Blue Spring area. “From here we’ll move upriver until we kill them all. It should be like shooting fish in a barrel, once we attract them to our trap.”
“Sergeant Jensen,” he continued, “I want you to take six men up to the Owl’s Bend Bridge. Stop the traffic around the bend in both directions so that drivers cannot see the bridge. Then I want you to break out a section of the guardrail large enough for a duce and a half to get through and create skid marks to simulate a truck crashing into it and going over the edge into the river.”