Authors: Gary Barnes
Clayton gathered his composure and responded, “Yes, but I need to speak to you first.”
=/\=
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-S
EVEN
Town Meeting
That night the citizens of Eminence were again gathered together in the town center for another meeting, the second in three days. This time their demeanor was much different. The citizens were somber and pulled together out of fear. They were shocked beyond belief at the loss of so many of the townspeople during the aliens raid of the previous night. The news of Major Reid’s defeat only a few hours earlier seemed incomprehensible to them. It had been gossiped about throughout the town but no one seemed to know exactly what had happened.
The Mayor did not need to bang his gavel to start the meeting. In the shocked silence of the town hall he gallantly rose to address his fellow citizens.
“As most of you probably already know,” the Mayor solemnly reported, “the army’s detachment was not successful in destroying the creatures. Major Reid and his men were all killed.” He took a long pause to collect his thoughts and to get his emotions under control. Whispers and hushed comments circulated around the otherwise quiet room.
“I’ve tried contacting Fort Leonard Wood,” continued the Mayor. “But I am told that they have no record of a Major Reid being stationed there, and they claim that no detachment has been sent here.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “For reasons known only to them, the military is deliberately trying to cover up this entire matter. It appears that our town has become expendable.”
There was an immediate gasp from several of the citizens. Others merely shook their heads in silent affirmation, confirming the Mayor’s comments.
“Obviously, as the threat of these creatures expands into other areas, help will eventually be forthcoming. Until then, however, I’m afraid we’re on our own to deal with this situation as best as we can.”
A hushed murmur circulated around the room.
Near the front row, Bill slowly stood and faced the gathering, “I’ve been telling you all along that the military has something to do with this situation. The Mayor’s right. Since their mission failed, they won’t even acknowledge that they had a mission. So I can assure you that we won’t get any more help from them. It’s now up to us.”
“You’re right, Bill,” the Mayor agreed. “It
is
now up to us. Dr. Clayton met with me and the Sheriff prior to this meeting and outlined a plan he’s developed. It’s a bold plan. It will require that all of us pull together, but I think it can work. That's why I’ve called you all here; to present the plan and to elicit your support.”
A man in the center of the room timidly stood, “But if the military can’t kill these things how can we possibly hope to succeed? We’re just farmers and merchants. Seems to me that we ought to just pack up and get out of town as fast as possible.”
“Those who want to go,” responded Sheriff Akers, “are certainly free to go, but I’ve thoroughly discussed this plan with Dr. Clayton and I think it’s a good one. These creatures have gotten into the continental aquifer, giving them access to every major city in the country. Do you want what has happened here to happen anywhere else? Well, I don’t. We need to take a stand. That’s what Americans do. We step up to the plate, roll up our sleeves and do what needs to be done. So let’s pull together and kill these things while we still can. At the rate they reproduce and grow it will soon be impossible to kill them all.”
“But what about the risks to us and our families in the process?” asked a frightened woman.
“Yes! There will be risks,” responded the Sheriff. “I’d be a liar if I told you we won’t have any casualties. I fully expect that some of us will not survive the battle. But it is a battle. We either face these creatures and conduct this battle here while their numbers are still relatively small, or we can turn and run, giving them time to increase their numbers and have this battle waged on a national level. If we make that choice, then God help us. From what I witnessed this afternoon, that battle will be pretty much one-sided. I cannot assure you that Dr. Clayton’s plan will work. But it’s well thought out, and if we all pull together I believe we can be victorious. Dr. Clayton, would you please share your ideas with our town.”
No one objected to Clayton speaking this time. All eyes were on him as he rose and stepped to the front of the room. He looked into their expectant faces and silently wondered at the wisdom of his plan.
Perhaps the farmer was right, maybe it would be best to just pack up and leave
, Clayton thought. But looking into the pleading eyes of the people before him, he knew that it was time to take a stand. He cleared his throat and began his explanation.
“I know that most of you have distrusted us since we got here. I can’t blame you for that.” Clayton paused a moment to collect his thoughts. “I must admit that I too had some misgivings about coming to such a small town. But I’ve learned a lot from you this summer and now realize that I have misjudged you. Now, out of necessity, the time has come for us to work together, to trust each other. If we agree to press forward with my plan, each of us will be placing our lives in each other’s hands. I now know that I for one, can do that. I pray that each of you can do the same.”
Again Clayton cleared his throat and awkwardly continued. “I was wrong about these creatures. You all know that I wanted to protect them. I wanted to save them from reckless destruction. In my ideological academic self-righteousness I deceived myself into thinking that saving the creatures was crucial. It seems that we scientists are too often fighting battles against the progress of humanity while claiming to do otherwise. I realize now that saving the aliens is not only impossible, but wrong if we intend for mankind to survive. I was an eye witness to the horrible slaughter of Major Reid and his men. It’s apparent now that with regard to these aliens, it’s either us, or them – and it is we who must survive. Two nights ago when we met I told you that I needed time to find the creatures’ weaknesses. Well, I’ve found them and I’ve devised a plan to exploit those weaknesses. I now openly request your assistance in working for the total and complete destruction of these aliens.”
The room was so quiet that not even Bill dared break the silence. Clayton continued, “Through my research I’ve discovered that a mutant form of a common fungus will kill the aliens within a few weeks. We can thank the lumber industry for their pollution that created this mutation. But that time table is not fast enough. To speed things up I'm culturing this fungus at my lab and will release it into the springs where the aliens live. However, we can't just wait for nature to take its course, that would cost the lives of far too many people. We need to attack and kill the aliens now, but not with direct confrontation as the military did. We’ve already learned that that approach would be disastrous. The intelligence of these aliens is phenomenal. Nevertheless, because of another weakness, I believe that there is a way that we can destroy the creatures if we work together. The fungus I’m culturing will insure the death of any eggs or hatchlings we miss.”
Clayton motioned for the Sheriff to join him. “I guess I’ve rambled on long enough. Sheriff Akers will be in charge of implementing the plan, so I’d like him to explain the specifics of it to you.”
The Sheriff, who had been standing next to Clayton, again addressed the town. “We're going to need a lot of man-power, supplies and equipment. I need everyone who can help, including the women and children over twelve, to meet us at the Rock Quarry at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Dr. Clayton has given me a list of the things he needs and we’ll be collecting those things throughout the night. Bill I want you to go to Jake's lumber yard and . . .” the Sheriff began to lay out the plan.
=/\=
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-E
IGHT
Rock Quarry
At eight o’clock the next morning the Mayor and Sheriff stood on the rimmed edge of the rock quarry on Highway 106 just east of town. They watched as dozens of trucks and trailers were being unloaded below them. From their vantage point they could see the entire panoramic view of the quarry. Several crews had worked throughout the previous night converting the quarry into what appeared to be a county fair or carnival. Numerous canopied locations had been set up with temporary structures that resembled midway booths. However, as the Sheriff’s Suburban descended the rocky, dirt road, from the rim of the quarry it became apparent to them that the midway booths were actually covered workstations. The canopies protected hundreds of the townspeople from the already harsh rays of the early morning sun.
Virtually every able-bodied member of the town had shown up to help. The somber attitude and gloomy despair exhibited in the town meeting the previous night had dissipated. The Sheriff’s inspiring speech and the detailed explanation of Clayton’s plan had instilled hope within them, giving them the confidence that by pulling together they would be victorious. Each person was determined to do his or her part to rid the town of the extraterrestrial menace that threatened their destruction. They were also grimly aware of the consequences which faced them if they failed; yet to them, failure was not an option. Their very lives depended upon the success of the plan they were about to implement.
Each of the various workstations had fifty to seventy-five workers assigned to it. They applied themselves to their tasks with a united determination never before experienced by the town folk. Over the next several hours Clayton’s plan began to unfold on a grander scale than even he had thought possible. The Mayor was amazed that his town could pull together so quickly to accomplish so much.
At the Styrofoam Station, large hand printed “No Smoking” signs were posted everywhere. Stacks of 4' X 8' flat Styrofoam sheet insulation surrounded the workers flanking two rows each of ten old ball and claw style bathtubs. Johnny, Austin and Frankie, along with about forty-five other youth and women crumbled the Styrofoam sheets into small chunks, filling the old bathtubs with the broken pieces. Their hair and clothing was covered with the tiny round Styrofoam balls that broke off when they crumpled the sheets.
The operator of a gasoline tanker truck, which was parked nearby, dragged the fueling hose to the bathtubs and filled each of them one-fourth full with gasoline. At each tub a man gently stirred the Styrofoam-gasoline mixture with a wooden canoe paddle. The gasoline dissolved the Styrofoam which gradually thickened the liquid into a gooey, sticky, jellied compound. The youth and women continued to add crumpled Styrofoam until the mixture reached the proper consistency.
When the mixture was correct several men used large cooking pans to ladle the jellied substance into 5-gallon plastic buckets. A team of six teenage boys banged the lids tightly onto the filled buckets, then lugged them to a row of nearby pallets, stacking the buckets three tiers high.
Bill supervised this operation and reported their progress to Sheriff Akers, who was making inspection rounds with the Mayor.
“Homemade napalm,” said Bill as he spat tobacco juice onto the ground. “Sure am glad for smokeless tobacco though. Never thought I'd use my guerrilla training in the civilian world.” He chewed twice then yelled to some of the kids crumbling Styrofoam. “Hey . . . more Styrofoam in this tub over here.” He, the Sheriff and the Mayor continued to inspect the various crews.
“How thick does this stuff get?” asked the Sheriff.
“We’ll add Styrofoam and stir it until it gets to about the consistency of mayonnaise. It’s pretty sticky stuff but can only be used on flat surfaces or in barrels because it will slowly run in puddling globs if placed on a non-flat surface.”
Each bathtub had a “U” shaped 3/4 inch in diameter copper plumbing pipe protruding from the mixture and looped over the rim of the tubs. The exterior end of each pipe was connected by a copper wire to a copper stake driven several feet into the ground. As they reached the last tub in the row, Bill patted one of the copper pipes.
“Grounding stakes,” he explained. “We’re dealing with Styrofoam and gasoline . . . can’t take a chance on a static electricity spark.”
The three men completed their inspection of the bathtub area and crossed over to another workstation where Opal, Pearl and two dozen other ladies were working amidst hundreds of crates of eggs.
Pearl looked up at the Sheriff, “Ah wanna thank ya fer lettin’ me help ya here. Since those aliens done kilt my Honace it feels like ah’m at least doin’ ma part ta settle tha score. An Ah’m a fixin’ ta do the job right.”
The Sheriff grinned and nodded his head respectfully at her. Pearl may have been an uneducated hillbilly, but she was a hard-working and sincere woman.
The ladies cracked the eggs and carefully separated the whites from the yolks. They dumped the egg-whites into 55-gallon, plastic, open-faced drums and discarded the yolks and shells into wheel barrels. When the wheel barrels were filled, the ladies called a couple of men over to push the wheel barrels down to a large open pit that one of the backhoe operators had dug. There they dumped the discarded contents. The men then returned the wheel barrels to the egg station for another load.
At each of the 55-gallon drums a man gently stirred the egg-whites with a canoe paddle while another slowly added sugar. When the sugar dissolved, the fuel truck operator slowed added gasoline to the mixture. “No Smoking” signs were posted everywhere.