Chapter 1
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It all started in 1973—I was nine years old. My parents had saved for several years for a family vacation out west to Yellowstone National Park. They had planned a two-week trip by car, leaving from Detroit the day after school let out for the summer. The baby-blue family Rambler had been packed the night before. I remember being all excited before we left the house.
I never expected to have the fate of the world placed in my hands. One could only be amazed at how such a tiny device would change the course of history. Man was not aware that other beings, hostile beings, inhabited our little part of the universe. We had only recently set foot on the moon.
We were not prepared to protect mankind from hostiles that we had no idea even existed. Man had easily risen to the top of the food chain here on Earth. He was clever, resilient, and bold. There had never been a test of man's ability to survive like the one that was coming.
Our trip that day was to Indian country. All I could think about was fighting Indians and hunting grizzlies. Most every young boy back in the early seventies had dreams of being either a cowboy or a soldier, or both.
After the first day's drive we pulled into a motor lodge outside of Sioux Falls on the eastern end of South Dakota. Even with the excitement of the trip, it was a tiring ride. We unloaded the car of what we needed for the night, checked into our room, and went promptly to bed. After sixteen hours on the road... the thrill was gone.
The following day was an early riser, and we were back on Interstate 90 to Badlands National Park at the western end of South Dakota. My dad had filled my brother and me with stories about how the Badlands was a big meteor crater. The meteor had come from Mars and fallen from the skies thousands of years before. As gullible kids, we spent the afternoon looking for Martians behind every rock. It was a spectacular place and could easily be mistaken for an alien world by any nine-year-old.
My dad's antics were all that was needed to convince me that the Martian story was true. But try as we might, my brother and I were unable to track down a single alien. After a full afternoon of hunting and sightseeing, it was back to another motor lodge along I-90 for the night.
Again we rose early the next day for a long trek in the car. Our next adventure was to Little Big Horn and Custer's Last Stand. After my disappointment over not finding any Martians, I had high hopes of fighting Indians. Every hundred miles along the interstate, it seemed we would pass an exit that had a trading post with a teepee out front. It was definitely Indian territory, and my brother and I were keeping a sharp lookout for any signs of trouble.
This was by the urging of our father, who had again filled us up with wild stories the night before. It was his attempt at adding excitement to our journey and keeping us occupied during the long rides. I was a little frustrated by seeing all the trading posts that advertised Indians, but not seeing a single Indian. I had guessed maybe the cavalry kept the interstate protected, or otherwise they would not be allowing us to travel on it.
After a night, a full day, and another night at Little Big Horn, we were ready to move on to Yellowstone. I remember being very disappointed that the only Indian we had seen was a wrinkled old man with a feather in his cap. He was smoking a pipe and sitting outside the visitor’s center at Little Big Horn. The old Indian certainly was not hostile, and he certainly was not interested in my scalp.
After three adventurous days in Yellowstone seeing the geysers, mud pots, and buffalo, it was on to the Grand Tetons. We arrived at the Grand Teton visitor’s center at about eleven thirty in the morning. Hunger was on all of our faces.
The ladies in the visitor’s center directed us just down the road to a diner that served buffalo burgers. The diner, the Double S, was constructed to look like an old western building covered with weathered plank siding and a metal roof. It had a covered front porch with rocking chairs and a big wooden Indian by the entrance. The left end of the building had a giant teepee attached for drawing in tourists like ourselves. The smell of grilling buffalo was in the air, and the hungry travelers were eager to get at it.
My parents and little brother walked in front of me up onto the diner's porch and in through the front door. I lingered for just a moment to check out the big wooden Indian. This one looked like it had more fight in it than the wrinkled old pipe smoker at Little Big Horn.
I stood making faces at the wooden savage as if I had nothing to fear from it, when suddenly an old man grabbed me by the arm. He had a full, gray frazzled beard, was dressed in rags, and had a smell about him that nearly brought tears to my eyes. He had big, bushy eyebrows and one eye that squinted while the other looked fully open. He perfectly fit the stereotype of every crazy guy I had ever seen in the movies or on TV, but for whatever reason, I was not scared.
He shoved something in my hand and told me to watch out for “them.” He said “they” were everywhere, and to never give “them” the device he had forced upon me. He said to never tell anyone where I had gotten it from or “they” would kill him. He only said it once and then released my arm. I turned for just a moment to look for my parents, who had already gone inside. When I turned back, the old man was already disappearing around the corner of the building.
I stood there looking at my hand, then back at the corner of the building, and then again at my hand. It was a strange-looking cylindrical item that looked a bit like a tiny shock absorber. It had been broken off from something else at both ends. The device was a mystery, and the circumstance by which it was placed in my hand immediately awakened my imagination.
Once again I was jolted by a grab... this time to my other arm. It was my little brother, Rex, ranting about buffalo burgers and lunch. I secretly slid the device into my pocket and followed Rex inside. As we waited to be seated, I looked out the windows and caught a glimpse of the old man making his way into the woods behind the diner. He walked quickly, but with a bad limp. I took a final glance back toward the roadway to see if he was being watched or followed, but there was no one else around.
I don't know why I never told my dad about the incident or showed the device to him. Maybe it was the thought of getting in trouble somehow for talking to a stranger; maybe it was the fact that I did not want to let my pesky little brother in on my new adventure. Either way, it made for an exciting day.
Little did I know how significant a role the tiny little item would play in my life. Somehow fate had seen to it that the strange little device had found its way into my hands. That one brief encounter would later play a major role in the survival of man. Only luck would prepare me for the things that were to come.
From the Tetons we made our way down to Dinosaur National Moniment. We then had a several-day drive back to Detroit. I had kept the old man's item hidden away from my little brother in my pocket. I took pleasure from the idea that I could reach in and fumble with it at will. I spent many hours wondering about who “they” were, what was so special about this device, and why I was selected to receive it.
When we arrived home, I raced into my room and into my closet. I had a small metal box with a combination lock on it. My mom had given it to me several years before. It was the one secure place I had where I could keep things that I did not want my brother to get his grubby little hands on.
For what seemed like every night for a month, I would go into my closet just before bed. I would get out the device to stare at it and daydream about what it might be. But I was nine, and with it being summertime, the intrigue of the device was soon deteriorated to just the occasional look.
By the end of the summer the mystery device had lost its appeal, and it did not see daylight again until my college days. Junior high and high school went by like a blur, and I soon found myself wearing a cap and gown and receiving a diploma.