And what sort of UFO was sighted out here?”
Amos looked at his son and disgustedly shook his head.
“Since you’re the one who went and opened up his big mouth, why don’t you answer the man. Son?”
Junior knelt on the ground opposite his father, and Satan ran to his side. It was while picking the burrs and ticks from the dog’s black fur that he began speaking, hesitantly at first.
“This hollow has always been home to strange lights and other weird activity. Rumor has it that Freeman once housed a top-secret,
subterranean government installation where a captured UFO was stored in the early sixties. It was way back then that Pa and Gramps actually saw this craft, hovering over the forest, shining a light that turned night into day.”
Amos nervously chuckled.
“Now, we know this weren’t an alien spaceship at all, but the first of the UN helicopters arriving to stake out their claim.”
“Then how do you explain the strange green lights that me and Satan saw over by Tater Hill last Halloween?” asked Miriam.
“I still think it’s an Indian burial ground that’s responsible, and that this hollow is haunted with their spirits.”
“Was the spot where you saw this UFO near Tater Hill?”
Vince asked Amos.
The elder Stoddard shook his head that it was, prompting Vince to surmise, “Then I bet that’s the spot where Marvin’s Huey was based. How far is it from here?”
“It’s a fifteen-minute hike at best,” Amos answered.
“Junior, why don’t you and Tiny escort the Special Agent down to Tater?
I’ll wait up here with the Vice President, along with your sister and
C.J.”
“Can’t I go too. Pa?” requested Miriam.
“I can show them the exact spot where I saw the spook lights.”
“I suppose it won’t hurt any,” Amos replied.
“Just don’t get yourselves captured by whatever the hell is out there.”
Satan accompanied them down into the hollow. It was a difficult hike. There was no trail of any sort to follow, and the footing was treacherous. Overhanging limbs slowed their progress, and at one point Vince stepped into a spiderweb and needed Miriam’s help to pick the sticky web off his back and shoulders.
Even though there was a good hour of summer sun left in the day, dusk came early to Freeman Hollow. A steep ridge to the west had already swallowed the sun, yet the heat and humidity persisted. Vince’s clothes were thoroughly soaked, and his shoulder still ached from the SATCOM unit, which he had left behind with the Vice President.
To a chorus of crickets and cicadas, they reached the hollow’s floor. Thorn bushes and thick scrub replaced the oaks and cedars.
The very air here was thick and heavy, and even Satan appeared to miss the fresh breezes that had accompanied them on the ridgeline. At a crossroads of sorts, the dog was having difficulty choosing between two faint trails, so Junior revealed which of these paths he’d like them to follow.
“We’ll take the one on the left. It’ll bring us to the overlook where Pa got his first glimpse of the UFO.”
“The other trail is the one leading to the swamp lights,” said Miriam.
“If there’s a secret base out here, that’s where we’ll find it.”
Her brother stubbornly shook his head.
“I disagree, Sis. The overlook offers the best view of Tater. It should also provide us with easy access to the base of the hill, where the installation is most likely positioned.”
“Then why are the swamp lights on the other side?” protested Miriam.
“I say we check them out before heading to the overlook.”
Vince sensed a serious deadlock, and he offered a compromise.
“Miriam, why don’t I go with you to the place where you saw the lights? Then we can meet up with your brother at the overlook and compare notes.”
The siblings accepted these terms, and Vince followed Miriam and Satan up the trail to the right. They cautiously picked their way through a briar patch, then began a short downhill climb into a stunted pine forest. The setting sun was all but blotted out from the sky, with mist beginning to form at the base of the twisted pine trunks. It was eerily quiet, a single owl hooting mournfully in the distance.
Satan stuck close to Miriam’s side, and Vince couldn’t shake the sensation that they were being watched. It was easy to see how an overactive imagination could play tricks with one’s head in such a place. He could readily conjure up the spirits of the Osage Indians who had once lived in these parts. What he wasn’t prepared for, though, was the green-faced men who suddenly materialized out of the mist, capturing them so quickly that even Satan wasn’t able to let out a single yelp.
Chapter 32
“I know this place,” said Ranger Glickman as the trail they had been following led into a small clearing.
“A family of poachers named Stoddard have been living here without Forest Service authorization. Our law enforcement officer thought they had moved on.”
“Well, obviously someone’s been living here,” said Ted Callahan, in reference to the wash that still hung from a clothesline, and the checkerboard that lay on the porch of the crude, one room cabin.
“Do the Stoddards have any militia ties?” Thomas questioned.
“Or could they be part of a local movement against a Federal presence in these parts?”
“I can’t answer the first question. Special Agent Kellogg,” said Glickman.
“Though I believe that the family patriarch, Amos Stoddard, could very well harbor a legitimate resentment against the Federal government. If I remember correctly, his father owned quite a bit of riverfront property near Greer Springs. That land was absorbed by the Forest Service against the family’s wishes. Like many others who lost their property at that time, they griped that the price paid was substantially below the fair market value.”
Behind them, the Sappers and the MPs were busy sweeping the campsite for any clues. Captain Christian’s men reported the discovery of several fresh deer carcasses in a nearby cave. An assortment of beaver, opossum, and mink pelts were also found there, along with several barrels of what appeared to be moonshine.
Sergeant Reed’s Sappers were responsible for uncovering the most promising evidence — a set of fresh footprints, headed to the southeast. Ranger Glickman pulled out a detailed topographic map of the area, highlighted their current location, and drew an imaginary line to the southeast.
“It appears that they’re most likely headed into the Irish Wilderness,” she said.
“Could they have another campsite in there?” Ted Callahan queried.
“The entire wilderness is set aside as a minimal-use area,” she answered.
“There are no roads or habitations of any sort. In fact, the only real facility remaining down there is a long-abandoned underground shelter, originally designed by the Strategic Air Command to offer survivable command and control in the event of a nuclear war.”
This unexpected revelation caught Thomas by complete surprise, and he pointed toward the map and asked, “And where is this shelter located?”
Glickman turned the map so Thomas could see her point to the Irish Wilderness; then, when her finger reached the feature labeled Freeman Hollow, she said, “Buried beneath one of the most inaccessible spots of the entire wilderness.”
Chapter 33
“Skipper, the trespassers have been locked up in detention.
Should I begin the interrogation?”
Thusly called from his deep, meditative trance, Dick Mariano responded to this request from the shadows of his darkened study, his powerful voice but a hoarse whisper.