Chapter 15
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After hanging up the phone, I made the decision to go back out west. I would hike back into the wilderness and find that bit of evidence that I so desired. Once that decision was made, the life seemed to come back into me. I once again had a purpose and a desire to accomplish something. I was determined I would find a piece of the invaders, even if it took the rest of my life.
Within the week I had sold my business to a competitor. My home had been put on the market, and I began to liquidate all my investments. On the first of August, I boarded a plane back to Sacramento and was on my way to find my future.
Shortly after arriving I looked up the Sacramento outfitter Bull had partnered with. I arranged to buy enough gear for some extended hiking. I also talked him into giving me whatever outdoor training he could offer. I signed up two hiking guides to accompany me and to help with my survival. Money was no object, and the man was more than willing to help me part with my cash.
I spent a month in Sacramento before I was ready to hit the trail. I was warned that snows would be expected soon at the higher elevations. The weather would make hiking and survival more difficult. My only concern was getting out to the wilderness so I could scour the grounds for that one bit of treasure.
We arrived at the Cherry Lake dam and immediately began our hike back toward Woods Ridge. We spent a day at Cherry Creek, where Minhafa had sprung past me and overturned the first demon. The guides fished, hunted small game, or just sat around camp playing cards as I moved meticulously back and forth, looking under every bush and beside every rock.
They asked repeatedly what I was looking for so they could help. I could not say without running the risk of them thinking I was crazy and walking off the job. Besides, I felt they were best used by keeping me fed and secure while I searched for my reward. The next day we moved our camp to Woods Creek and the site where we had lured the second demon into our ambush.
The results were the same as I spent the entire day combing the area for any little sign of our visitors. The spots of ground where the green fog had spread out were still largely bare. When I was asked about them, I gave no answer and continued my search.
I had thoroughly covered each of our previous battlefields after two weeks. The guides were ready to go back to their homes, their wives, families, and lives. When we returned to Sacramento, I sat all evening in a hotel room just staring out the window at the autos going up and down the street.
The next day I went to the nearest car dealer, purchased a used pickup truck, and then made my way by the outfitter's store. I reloaded on all my hiking and camping supplies. He once again offered two guides, and I once again accepted his price without negotiation.
Again, two weeks came and went as we covered the same ground a second time with no luck. This time the snow was beginning to fall on the last day, and I knew I would only have one more shot before having to wait until spring. On the third try we were stranded for two days by a heavy snow, bringing our excursion to an early end. I was told the high country would now be covered with the white powder until at least April. Not until then would there would be enough snowmelt to show any ground.
It was a hard winter for me just sitting around Sacramento until spring. In my boredom, I did some bookkeeping for several businesses and arranged a few insurance deals for them as well. I wasn't making enough to live off, but it kept my mind somewhat occupied as I waited for the spring thaw.
Besides, I had loads of money in the bank after my home sold in Atlanta. I was still well off for a man in the 1950s. I spent the winter learning about survival and the backcountry and studying maps. I would no longer need any guides for direction, but I would still take them along to run my camp. It would allow me to spend my time searching.
I spent most of April through September of 1958 going over and over the places we had encountered the demons. There just did not seem to be anything to find. The snow melted and the grass grew, and the once-telltale barren spots were now lush and green with new growth.
By the end of 1958, I was going out and staying by myself for a month at a time. Come early October, the cold and the snow moved in again, crippling my search activities. I once again spent the winter months working odd jobs to make a little extra cash, as my bank account was beginning to slowly decline. That Christmas I sent Bull, Allie, Kyle, and Susi each a Christmas card. Susi and Kyle had gotten married, but I was out in the wild at the time, so I did not attend.
My life had changed drastically since our trip out west. I had a scraggly beard growing and my hair was unkempt. The constant summer days in the sun were taking their toll on my skin. The backcountry life was hard, and I had become a scrawny old stick of a man who was in constant need of a bath.
My obsession with finding an alien artifact was all-consuming. I was becoming known around Sacramento as this crazy old guy who was searching for something that could not be found. Everyone assumed it was something I had lost, and I thought it was just as well they think it. It was my business to find and my business alone.
What had started out as an all-out hunt for however long it took... soon turned into fifteen years of wandering, prodding, and poking.
My fortune had dwindled to just enough to keep paying for my room and board during the winter months and to purchase a modest amount of supplies for the summer. The physical toll on my body was much greater. During my hikes I had a number of falls. Twice I dislocated a shoulder, once I broke my lower leg, and I had numerous sprains, twists, and bruises. The scars from the rough outdoor life were now too numerous to count.
My family history was such that the men of my stock rarely made it past fifty-five years of age. We were just not sturdy folk, as they would say. And I had noticed that I was beginning to slow significantly in the amount of terrain I could cover on any outing.
I had come to the conclusion I would probably die out in the wilderness alone, still searching for the one bread crumb of evidence that fed my obsession. I had been over each of the places we had encountered the demons at least a hundred times, but I was compelled to venture on.
On one particular day in late August, I came to our camp by Laurel Lake. I sat down on the rocks where I had first seen the red demon eyes and where Bull had taken his first shots at them. It was a familiar place to me, just as were all the others. As I sat, taking a break from my constant downward gaze, I noticed a swath of brush moving just behind another set of small boulders. I stretched out my hand and placed it on my bat. After fifteen years in the woods, it was still my preferred defensive weapon.
Up from the brush and onto one of the boulders jumped an old, haggard-looking mountain lion. It was the first one I had seen since the one I had called Minhafa had saved me from the demon by Cherry Creek.
The old cat just stood and looked at me for several minutes. It was then when I decided maybe I really had snapped and that I had wasted the last fifteen years wandering around the woods like a lunatic. But I could not turn back the clock. I had lost touch with my family and friends. There really was nothing to go back to. The wilderness had become my home and the searching obsession my life.
The old cat continued to stare at me to the point where I started to grow angry. I held up my bat and waved it at the beast and shouted for it to leave. But the old cat just stood and stared. I then stood up and shouted and tried to move about in a threatening manner, but it made no difference; the old mountain lion was not impressed.
So, I did next what any insane person would do. I charged at it with bat raised while bellowing out one curse word after another. As I got to about thirty feet away, the old lion turned and hopped back down into the bushes and slowly loped away. I stopped in front of the boulders and watched as the tail end of the cat disappeared into the woods. I leaned over on the boulder and took a breath and wondered again if I had not gone fully mad.
As I turned to go back to my searching, I caught the slightest reflection off something down at th
e base of the boulder. There, lying among some wilted grass, was the item of my longtime obsession.
At first I was in disbelief. It could not possibly be a part of the alien machines. How could the item have gotten over there when the alien had clearly fogged the rocks sixty feet away? I reached down and picked it up. My hands were trembling. This was the proof I had been looking for... for fifteen years!
I let out a howl and danced a jig, and then let out another howl. I kept up the celebration until I had no breath left. I sat on the ground and just stared at the item for most of an hour as I relived each of our battles with the aliens over and over in my head. I thought about how heroic I had been and about how we had defeated the alien invaders with our wits, and a lot of luck.
I guessed that at our first encounter with the red devil eyes, when Bull had fired his .45, one of the bullets had found its mark. It had knocked the item sixty-odd feet away. I had browsed by the rocks before, but never with the extreme scrutiny that I had given to the previous bare spots.
The find was huge. I decided that I would grab my pack and make haste for Sacramento. I needed to call the others. They would now have to join me, as I now had the evidence that the world needed to see.
The following afternoon I reached my apartment and immediately picked up the phone. I first called Bull and Allie, but got no answer. I then called my sister and Kyle and was thrilled when someone spoke. I asked who it was and discovered it to be a ten-year-old nephew that I didn't know I had. He passed the phone to Susi, who remained mostly silent as I told her of my find. Kyle was at work, and she told me I should call back that evening to talk with him.
Susi also told me that Bull and Allie were gone on a vacation to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. She gave me a hotel number, and I called as soon as I had finished talking with her. She didn't show the excitement about the find I had hoped for, or that I had expected.
It took me two hours of calling the hotel in Yellowstone before the clerk finally told me they had just checked out. They had given a forwarding address of a hotel near the Grand Tetons, where they would be for the next two days.
As soon as I was off the phone, I packed a small bag with a change of clothes and headed outside to my truck. I stopped at the first gas station and tanked up. I purchased a road map that would take me across the Sierra Nevadas and to Salt Lake City.
From Salt Lake I would make my way over to the Grand Tetons and to Bull and Allie's hotel. I would have half a day to spare before they were scheduled to depart. I drove all evening and through the night, arriving in Jackson, Wyoming, late the following evening.
I pulled into a local store, got directions to their hotel, and then made my way straight there. It was after midnight when I arrived, so I decided to just stay in the lobby of the hotel until morning. As I waited, I made use of the hotel bathroom to freshen myself up. I was a mess; I smelled bad and I looked bad. The clerk at the counter had a suspicious eye that followed me through the lobby and into the bathroom.
I took off my shirt and splashed the cold water on my face and under my arms. I then used about half of the hand towels they had available to dry myself. Finally, I put on the spare change of clothes that I had brought in my bag.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I still smelled bad and I still looked bad. The clerk maintained his watch over me as I sat in the lounge and awaited my friends. It only took a few minutes before I was asked to please leave the hotel if I did not have a room. So, I slept the rest of the night in my truck.
At first light I once again entered the lobby and began my wait. It was about 8AM when Bull and Allie came walking down the stairs into the lobby. They were smiling and holding hands and looking at each other as they walked. They proceeded to walk past me without taking notice.
I called out Bull's name, and he stopped and turned. I then realized why he had not recognized me. I was fifteen years older, and it might as well have been fifty years given the shape I was in.
I was scrawny. I walked with a slight limp, and my posture was hunched over a bit from all those years of looking down at the ground. I was sure the disheveled hair and the wild gray beard did not help.
Bull came over slowly and asked me how I was and what I was doing there. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my prize. As I held it up, my hand was shaking. I told him it had taken me fifteen years, but I had found the evidence that we could show the world. I told him we could finally tell our story, and of how everyone would know we were the heroes we knew we were. I told him about how this was going to change our lives and make us famous.
His response was silence. I continued to ramble on about what this was going to mean for all of us, and he finally stopped me and pointed to Allie and the two young boys and a girl that were now standing with her. He told me he already had more than he could ever want. He did not want his life to change, because as far as he was concerned, it was already perfect.
The same feeling of anger that had come over me fifteen years earlier before began to well up inside again. I was mad and in disbelief they wanted nothing to do with my find. I had the proof in my hand that aliens existed and had been to our world!
After five minutes of my arguing and getting a bit irrational, Bull turned and signaled to Allie to take the kids away. He then turned back to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He told me he had no interest in the device, or in the alien story, and did not want to subject his family, his children, to any part of it. He did not want the publicity or the turmoil that would come with telling about the aliens. I was angry, but at the same time, I could see he was genuine in his concern for both his family and their life together.
Bull had been my best friend as long as I could remember having a friend. I knew I could no longer involve him and Allie or their children in my strange tale. I would just as soon cut off my own leg as cause them grief or harm.
After my moment of rage waned, a calmness returned. I told him I would not involve him, Allie, or the kids in the revealing of my find. Aside from the friendship we had shared for so many years, I owed him my life at least a half-dozen times over.
As Allie began to herd the kids back up the stairs of the hotel toward their room, I raised my hand in a friendly wave. Allie stopped for a moment, then smiled and continued up the steps. I walked out of the hotel lobby unsure of what to do next. There was a pay phone sitting to my left, and I decided it was time to give Kyle and Susi another call. I needed to see if they were of the same mind as Bull and Allie.
After ten minutes on the phone, I told my sister goodbye. I told her not to worry, as I would not involve them any longer. I was dejected. Most of my adult life had been spent searching for this bit of alien hardware, and the people I needed with me most wanted nothing to do with it.
I turned and walked into the hotel parking lot and to my truck. I retrieved my bat and then stood silently for several minutes just looking at the ground. I crossed the street and walked into the nearest woods. I felt at home in the woods. The trees and rocks had become my friends and family. I mumbled to myself as I walked deeper into them.
I rambled aimlessly through the woods for several hours. When I emerged, I was standing behind a diner. I set my bat down and walked into the parking lot of the establishment. The diner had a giant teepee on one end of a long covered porch with a wooden Indian by the door. I walked onto the porch and sat down on a bench. In my new depression I was unsure of what to do with what I had and what I knew.
I did not want to go it alone with some crazy alien story in the fast-paced world of 1973. Fame and fortune no longer seemed important. Without the support of my family and friends, I had no desire to tell the world of my heroics.
I then came to the decision that my obsession had done nothing but ruin my life. In that moment I wanted to be rid of the demon artifact. I wanted to rid myself of the burden it had placed upon me. I was in need of a quick solution to my long lived problem.
As I sat there on the porch a family approached the dine
r. As they came up to the front door, a young boy stopped and was making faces at the wooden Indian. At that moment I decided that he should now hold the responsibility of the alien artifact, if for no other reason than because he was there.
I got up from the bench and moved down the porch behind him. As I walked, I concocted a wild story about how others were after me and how he would need to protect it from them. I then grabbed his right forearm and jammed the device into his small hand before he had a chance to say no. He stood silently and listened to my fifteen-second rant. I then turned and walked away.
I had no idea what the boy might do with the device, and I no longer cared. If he threw it down, I hoped it would get swept up and thrown in the trash forever. I was finished with the aliens, and for the first time in fifteen years a real sense of calm and peace came over me. I walked around the side of the building, collected my bat, and proceeded to walk back into the woods, never looking back.
I never found out what the boy did with the item, and for that I was thankful. A wide grin was on my face as I walked the several hours back to my truck. I had come to the conclusion that I had proven to myself all that needed to be proven. I was free from the knowledge that had become my obsession.
I then came to the realization of what an obstinate fool I had been for my entire life. It was no wonder that my wife had left me. My sense of what was important was warped, and always had been. I had an epiphany about who I was and just what mattered.
I no longer felt the need to prove myself to anyone for any reason. And I no longer felt I was entitled to anyone's attention. I had lived a life centered around only what I wanted, only what I perceived to be good for me. It had only served to drive away my family and friends. I was alone in the world, but for the first time I didn't feel lonely.
I then drove north for several hours, stopping in Big Springs Montana before deciding to call it home. I would shave and clean myself up. I would transfer what little money I had in Sacramento to the local bank, and I would live out my final days as just another normal citizen. A friendly old man who was always helpful to and caring of others before himself.
I was certain the aliens would one day return, but it was no longer an item of my concern. Our handful of ordinary citizens had beaten them once. I believed there to be no reason why we could not do it again. But it was a fight in which I no longer felt the need to be involved. My war with the aliens, and my battles with obsession, were over.
As the days went by, I would always keep one reminder of my fight for survival: my old hickory Hillerich & Bradsby S44 baseball bat. It sat, standing on end, leaning against the wall in the corner of my bedroom. A small notch was missing out of the handle where I had fought for my life. If the aliens were ever to return... and if I should feel the need to join in the fight... my trusty friend would be waiting, always ready to be swung in our defense.