As Roote drained the power from the batteries, the lone helicopter flew in closer. Dust thrown up by the rotors pelted roughly against the faces of the Camp Earth residents.
Blades slicing madly at the sky, the chopper swept over their heads, banking south before swooping back toward the dark eastern sky.
It didn't get far.
One hand remained over the batteries while the other rose toward the departing craft. A single violent burst of electricity exploded from Roote's fingertips, skipping the distance between him and the helicopter in a heartbeat.
The blast caught the chopper in the tail. Engine spluttering, the helicopter plummeted amid a hail of sparks behind the rising plateau. A moment later an explosion rocked the night. A single plume of fire rose up from beyond the rocky ledge. It was followed by a prolonged rumbling as the aircraft pounded in an awesomely slow crawl down the steep embankment. Next came an eerie, stunned silence.
Slowly Elizu Roote turned to the shocked Camp Earthers.
"Well, if they didn't know I was here before, I reckon they do now," he said.
The demonic smile he flashed drained all warmth from the evening air.
FORTUNATELY THE HELICOPTER had spied the Camp Earth cooking fires minutes before Elizu Roote blasted it from the sky. The chopper had quickly radioed the location to Fort Joy, where the message was relayed to Harold W. Smith. Smith in turn contacted Remo.
Ten minutes later Remo was racing along the highway in his stolen Camaro.
The Master of Sinanju sat in the passenger's seat, his hazel eyes fixed on the dark contours of the mountain range that skirted the desolate road.
"I see nothing," Chiun announced. "Were not Smith's legionnaires supposed to rendezvous with us?"
"That was the original plan," Remo said tightly. "But Smitty says they lost radio contact with the chopper at Fort Joy after it checked in."
"Given the incompetence of the gaspot who commanded that garrison, they are probably halfway to Mexico by now."
"I think they've hauled it together now that Chesterfield's pulled a disappearing act," Remo said. He was scanning the sky for any sign of the helicopter that would take them to Camp Earth. "All these mountains look alike to me. In case we don't meet up with them, are you sure you can follow Smith's directions?"
The Master of Sinanju fixed him a baleful glare. "If Mad Harold was sane when issuing his instructions, I will find the site. With or without the assistance of his unreliable soldiery."
An explosion of stars had taken firm hold of the night sky by the time they arrived in the general area Smith had described. Remo had been driving at speeds in excess of 120 miles per hour until now. As they ripped through this new area of desert, he slowed to eighty.
They had just flown around the base of a hill that looked like a giant's foot dropped in the middle of the road when the Master of Sinanju's head suddenly snapped to the right.
"Halt!" the old Korean commanded.
Remo left twin strips of smoking black rubber fifty yards long in his haste to follow the order.
"What is it?" Remo asked once they had come to a stop.
Chiun raised a silencing hand. "Backward," the Master of Sinanju insisted.
Dutifully Remo put the car in reverse. He backed all the way down the long black skid marks until he was at the point where Chiun had first called out. When they stopped once again, the Master of Sinanju aimed a perilously long finger to the soft shoulder of the road.
Leaning over to see out the passenger's window, Remo spotted the fresh tire tracks in the sand. "So what?" Remo asked.
"They belong to the vehicle that eluded us," Chiun announced with certainty. He immediately thought better of his choice of words. "Eluded you," he amended.
Remo didn't seem convinced.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "We're wasting valuable time if you're just going to take us around in circles on some wild-goose chase."
"Need I remind you that you chased a goose into the desert yesterday, only to find a jackass." Remo's face clouded.
"I didn't hear you objecting too strenuously at the time."
"That is because I wished for you to get this crazed-gander pursuit out of your system once and for all. Now we go after our true quarry."
Smiling faintly, Remo shook his head. "Bullshit artist," he muttered under his breath. He thought he had spoken softly enough that Chiun hadn't heard.
"Coming from you, O Bullheaded One, I will take that as a compliment," Chiun announced loudly. Settling back in his seat he waved a bony hand dramatically toward the mountain path. "Drive, bovine!"
Steering off the main road, Remo tore up the shadowy mountain trail.
Chapter 25
Pry bars were carried hurriedly from a dilapidated storage area near Beta RAM's hut. The heavy iron rods were dropped unceremoniously to the sand, followed by many of the residents of Camp Earth.
Crawling, squatting, sliding across the dirt, they worked feverishly to brush aside the sand and clay from the large wooden lid. The pry bars were hastily shoved into the space between lid and lip, and the nails securing the cover to the thick wooden walls popped free one by one. With a final, furious wrench, the lid was ripped free and tossed aside.
Most of the residents of Camp Earth had seen a movie years before where survivalists like themselves had hidden weapons in a hole in the ground. When the Camp Earthers had first moved into the wilds of New Mexico, they'd decided to copy their cinematic counterparts. No one realized that in the film the weapons cache had been carved in dirt.
It took months of dynamite and pickaxes for the Camp Earthers to clear the hole they stood in now. It hadn't occurred to any of them to dig where the sand was deep-two hundred yards away on the plateau whereon squatted the hut in which Arthur Ford had revived his precious alien. Dust-covered tarps were pulled away. Automatic weapons were passed up out of the burrow. They were quickly distributed among the eager, grabbing crowd.
"Remember," Beta RAM called to his followers as he watched the men working in the hole. "This is not yet a confirmed alien invasion. We could be dealing with creatures in humanoid shape or humans in league with aliens. There is also a very remote outside chance that they are all humans."
One man snorted contemptuously. "Figure the odds."
A few more in the crowd laughed out loud at this third, outlandish possibility.
Beta RAM raised a silencing hand. "Just be prepared for all the typical alien deception." He began ticking off the possibilities on his fingers. "We're talking mind control, alien possession, false holographic images, transmutation, shape alteration. The works."
The residents of Camp Earth waited impatiently as he listed all of the most obvious alien ruses. When Beta RAM was through issuing his warnings, he began dispatching men and women whom he deemed part of the first watch to the periphery of the camp. About half of the Camp Earth residents remained behind near the huts.
As the men were dispersing, Beta leaned down into the pit. He pulled a pair of M-16s out by their khaki straps.
Carrying a gun in each hand, Beta wandered back through the bustling activity in the camp up to the lonely plateau shack.
Ford sat on one of the drained batteries before the hut's open door. He had decided that his chances for surviving the next few hours hinged on his proximity to Roote. The closer the better.
Ford looked up nervously as Beta approached. He didn't relax when he saw the automatic weapons in the Camp Earth leader's hands.
Beta stopped before him, looking down disdainfully at Arthur Ford.
"He's inside if you want to talk to him," Ford grumbled.
"He can handle himself," Beta replied, voice flat. "Here." Beta held out an M-16. "You're going to need it."
Ford accepted the rifle. He started to lean it against the side of the hut but suddenly thought better of the idea. He placed it across his lap.