Saglek, Labrador

Larry York was stationed at Saglek AFS in 1966. He, and others at that location, encountered what can best be described as a "very unusual experience". Larry has taken the details of this "experience" and written a novel. He has permitted us to provide the first five chapters of his novel on our site. If you are interested in obtaining the balance of the novel - we request that you contact Larry via email at york.twins@togobox.com

Larry C. York

313 Harvest Drive

King, NC 27021

by

Larry C. York

PREFACE

In the Northern reaches of Labrador, in the middle of the Arctic winter, a strange red light is seen on top of a twin mountain peak across a frozen bay. A1/C Cal York is first to observe this unusual phenomenon, and eventually it leads him and his best friend on an impossible trek around the bay where they discover an alien culture apparently residing inside the mountain.

Trying desperately to escape, they are fired upon by these unknown beings, and Big Allen is killed in a tragic, botched escape attempt.

Cal is not certain whether he has been rescued or whether he has been captured. Whatever has happened to him, his memory is gone until he falls in love with a beautiful alien girl named Seera.

Seera helps him to regain his memory, but another botched escape attempt banishes him to her home planet of Econia far across the galaxy.

Cal gains special powers on Econia and makes a successful escape into the Econian desert wilderness where he eventually battles an evil sand monster the Econians know only as "The unseen." He succeeds in killing "The unseen" and in saving Seera's life when she returns to Econia to help him.

York is again incarcerated by an Econian council, yet again escapes with Seera's help. They find sanctuary in the small village of Logas and are married in an Econian ceremony.

The honeymoon is cut short when the Econian guard discovers their whereabouts; the only alternative is to find a way to use the electronic transportation device and return to Earth.

Cal must now discover why the Econian council fears him and what unknown tragedy awaits Earth . . . then find some way to prevent such from happening.

INTRODUCTION

Saglek Bay, Labrador

February 1966

The 924th AIRCRAFT CONTROL AND WARNING SQUADRON sits on the edge of an eighteen-hundred-foot cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and Saglek Bay.

This is one of the most remote sites in the United States Air Force and is on the leading edge of an Early Warning System against enemy air attack in the far north. The site is staffed with 85 military personnel and 35 civilian employees. The civilians are primarily from Newfoundland and speak with those heavy, brogue accents. They are generally a rough bunch and keep fairly much to themselves.

All the military personnel are assigned for a twelve-month tour of duty, and immediately upon landing at Saglek Bay's Lower Camp runway, they are overcome by depression. As far as one can see, there is nothing but snow-covered mountains or barren rock in midsummer. On the flight to this locale on an outdated C-47, that is all one sees for 200 miles. These rugged mountain ranges are a picture of almost total desolation.

CHAPTER I
RED LIGHT ENCOUNTER

The two impetuous friends felt a compulsion to investigate the mysterious light -- even if it killed them! For one young man, his life was changed forever. The other was soon to be dead!

Airman First Class Cal York had arrived for his twelve-month tour on August 23, 1965. Months later, in the dead of winter, Cal found himself in the Operations Center with Big Allen Rachauskas and Sgt. Duffey, and he was puzzled and perplexed by a strange set of events:

Just two weeks earlier Cal had been working on a swing shift in the Operations Center. Beginning in November in Labrador, there is almost total darkness, that is, for twenty-one hours. The sun does not exactly "come up": at approximately noon the sky becomes somewhat lighter and remains dusky until about 3:00 p.m. At that time there is once again total darkness until noon the next day. That is because of being located at such a northern latitude.

Cal had had to take a weather observation every hour on the hour, and at 7:00 p.m. he went to the weather observation window. Since it was always well below zero at that time of year and because of the horrendous wind velocity, normally in excess of sixty miles per hour, weather observations were not taken outside.

As the young man peered out the window through total blackness, toward the two mountains he knew were on the other side of Saglek Bay, a feeling overcame him that something about this observation was out of the ordinary. The two mountains., nicknamed "Baldy and Bessie," were close to 3,000 feet in height and approximately twenty miles away. Closer in, at three miles out, was the Communications site, known as "Comm. Site." The Comm. Site had four clusters of four red lights each which were used to determine whether or not the conditions were clear or cloudy. (From such a distance each cluster of four lights appeared as only a single light, hence four lights altogether.)

Cal continued to stare into the darkness when it suddenly occurred to him that he was spotting not four . . . but now five red lights. Then, looking more intently, he realized that the fifth light was not on the Comm. tower; instead it appeared to be on top of "Baldy" across the bay. Such did not seem possible because of the extreme remoteness and the freezing weather. This fifth red light was not moving and it possessed a brilliance twice the brightness of the four lights on the Comm. Site.

Awaking to the fact that he was on duty, Cal began to call Lt. Scoggins to report his observation. Scoggins came to the Operations Center and observed this strange light for himself. The lieutenant viewed the peculiar sight for almost two hours when at just past 9:00 p.m. the unfamiliar light suddenly vanished.

This superior officer instructed Cal to contact Sgt. Duffey who was NCO (non-commissioned officer) operations chief and who would assist in the observation. And now everyone had gone except Cal York, Sgt. Duffey, and Allen Rachauskas, Allen being the radar technician working the night shift. The three men sat wondering what the bright red light meant and where it went.

"I wonder if I could see anything from outside," said Duffey, thinking out loud.

"Duffey," Cal replied, "I don't know whether you could or not. But I just passed the weather info to Goose Air Base, and I'm not going out there. The temperature is minus eighteen with forty-five-knot winds gusting to sixty-five. That makes it a Chill Factor Six, and you know exposed skin is going to freeze in two minutes." Cal also knew the highest factor was a Chill Factor Seven in which exposed skin would freeze on contact, and the temperature was presently only a few degrees above that extreme limit.

Allen finally spoke up: "Duffey, if you insist on going outside, I'll help you get out the back door, but I'm not going out in this weather either." He then arose and accompanied Sgt. Duffey up through the break room and on to the back door.

In winter the heavy snow and high winds cause the snow to drift and blow four to five feet deep around the doors, and it makes them almost impossible to open. Duffey and Allen took the heavy steel bar off the door and pulled it open. Then with the shovels they cleared a path for the sergeant to be able to scramble out. After clearing a pathway, Duffey went to his quarters on the lower level. There he began to dress for the cold.

The site was built on top of an eighteen-hundred-foot cliff. Large wooden pillars were embedded in the rock; then the metal buildings, about twelve feet square, were mounted onto the pillars as interconnecting hallways to larger rooms. The contour of the buildings followed the slope of the cliff, so that there were four separate levels. Level One at the top contained all the work areas: There was the mess hall, operations center where radar control was maintained, commanders' offices, a two-lane bowling alley, small theater, snack bar, and various other offices. Level Two, in the enlisted men's section, contained the NCO Club and a number of one-man rooms. Section Three was all one-man rooms, and Level Four was primarily the motor pool. Level Two, in the officers' section, was much smaller and had the Officers' Club and officers' rooms and civilians' quarters. Each level was approximately twenty feet below the one above it and was connected by those metal hallways.

There was an Eskimo village called Hebron ten to twelve miles down at the foot of the mountain, but there was not a blade of grass or a tree to be found for at least a hundred miles.

Sgt. Duffey finally came back to the Operations Center after having dressed in his Arctic gear. It was necessary to wear fur-lined Arctic boots, insulated pants, the standard parka coat, and insulated gloves that snapped onto the sleeves of the parka.

Next, Duffey finally scrambled out the back door and climbed up the snow bank that had drifted making a small mountain almost covering the buildings. Duffey was straining to see through this pitch-black darkness toward "Baldy and Bessie" which were past the Communications Site. The wind was whipping the flaps on his parka against his face, making the numbing cold almost unbearable. There was absolutely nothing to see except the four red lights on the Comm. Site; he was now ready to go back inside. Yet, as a last measure, Duffey just happened to take out his flashlight and scanned the area around the site. He moved the light around until . . . until he spotted reddish stains in the snow around the top of the snow bank.

The sergeant was curious about this, so he took a closer look and found that these stains covered a large circular area. Fear gripped him as he thought, Blood! Then he took off back down the drift and fell into the back door. His hands were shaking, so much so that he could hardly get the door opened. Duffy felt as though something -- or someone -- was right behind him, but he managed to get the door opened. Then he slammed it closed behind him . . . .

Cal and Big Allen were still there in the Operations Center monitoring the radar when they both heard Sgt. Duffey coming back inside. They had heard the door slam shut; then, as he passed through the small break room, they heard him clumsily stumble down the three small steps and knock over the coffee pot.

Allen and Cal gave each other a puzzled glance as they both concluded that Duffey surely must be in a panic-stricken state. But why? Finally, as the sergeant entered operations, he appeared to them to be as white as a ghost.

Realizing that Duffey was visibly trembling, the other two men finally recovered from their paralysis of puzzlement and jumped up from their seats to rush over to the sergeant.

"What happened, Duffey?" Cal asked.

The frightened man could not presently seem to catch his breath, and Allen was coaxing him, "Duffey, what's the matter? What did you see?"

Finally he gathered his composure enough to respond: "I think I'm losing my mind," he panted. "Go outside and tell me what you see in the snow!"

"Tell me what you saw, Duffey," Cal said.

"No," Duffey insisted, "just go out there and tell me what you see. I think I'm going crazy!"

Cal was being resistant: "Look, Duffey. If you don't tell us what you saw out there, we're not going."

"That's right," Allen added, trying to back Cal up. "We won't go if you don't tell us."

So the sergeant finally blurted out the words, "Okay, I saw . . . blood! Blood is all over the snow above the Operations building. It's splashed all over the place. Both of you, go out there and tell me what you see."

Cal and Allen both answered him simultaneously: "No way am I going out there! Then one of them added, "If there's blood all over the snow, get somebody else to go out there."

Nevertheless, Duffey pleaded with the other two men for another five or six minutes simply to go and investigate and see what it looked like to them. "Look," Duffey admitted, "maybe it wasn't blood, but it is something, and I'd like you two to see what you think it is. Besides, I didn't see anything else."

Cal and Allen momentarily left Sgt. Duffey still gasping for breath from fear and excitement. They talked alone for a few moments, then rejoined the sergeant when he had apparently calmed down.

"Okay, Sgt. Duffey," said Cal, slightly more formal than usual, "Allen and I are going out to take a look."

"That's right, Duffey," agreed Allen, then adding somewhat facetiously, "but both of us are convinced that you have lost your mind."

After having donned the same type of Arctic gear that Sgt. Duffey had worn, Cal and Allen cautiously opened the back door of the Operations Center. The cold wind immediately bit into the areas of their skin not completely covered by the fur-lined parkas.

"Allen," Cal remarked, "I hope going out there isn't a big mistake."

"Yeah, I hope it isn't, either," replied Allen, "but Duffey is so sure that he saw blood everywhere."

"I do know one thing," Cal said. "If there is blood outside, it didn't come from anybody on the site. If it had, we would have known about it."

"Well, Cal," Allen suggested, "if it came from one of the Eskimos at Hebron, why wouldn't they have come in for help?"

Then Cal thought about the fifth red light he had seen earlier; yet, realizing that that had been many miles from where they were, he dared to say, "Allen, if it had something to do with that red light we saw, where could it have come from?"

By now they had climbed above the buildings, and the wind made it too difficult for them to hear each other. So they trudged on up the steep snow bank in silence. But, when they finished the climb to the top, the two men pointed their flashlights down on the snow and spotted reddish, almost purplish, stains covering the area just as Duffey had stated.

Allen motioned Cal over to the edge of the stains. Pointing to what appeared to be footprints, they followed the prints with their flashlights out to a place ten feet away where they disappeared into an indentation in the snow. Cal and Allen simply stood and stared at the depression about six feet wide and twenty feet long. This large spot was eighteen to twenty-four inches deep, and, whatever the stains really were, they followed the footprints to the edge of that depression and there stopped.

By that time, the biting wind and cold were having an even more numbing effect on them, and they returned to the much-needed warmth of the Operations Center. Sgt. Duffey had been waiting, and after their relating the findings, the sergeant went to report directly to the Site Commander, Col. Solomon.

There was no formal security on this desolate and remote radar site, and by the time the colonel sent a small team out to investigate the report, high winds and drifting snow had obliterated all the evidence. Now there were no reddish-purple stains to be seen, stains which Sgt. Duffey had believed to be blood, no peculiar depression in the snow, and no strange red light on top of "Baldy." Duffey, Cal, and Allen were left frustratingly to speculate and wonder what it was all about; and if someone were out there, would they be back?

Saglek Bay

March 1, 1966

Weeks went by since the observation of the strange red light, but work went on as usual, and the incident had almost been forgotten. As Cal was sitting in the Operations Center at the radar scope, he monitored air traffic in northern Labrador. He was alone in OPS because traffic was always very light at this time of night, being past 1:00 a.m.

A call came in from the Comm. Site: It is the very excited and nervous voice of Sgt. Thompson. "Hey! What do you have flying over in the southeast?"

Cal checked the scope. "The only blip I have on the screen is two hundred miles out at about thirty-five thousand feet," he answered.

"No," Thompson insisted, "this is as low as the mountain tops, and it's flashing colors like red, blue, and green -- and it's moving very slow!"

0h my God, Cal thought, the strange light must be back.

As quickly as he could get away from the radar scope, Cal headed to the weather observation window. Peering out into the darkness at "Baldy and Bessie," he saw what he had seen before. "Good Lord," he thought out loud to himself, "that's the same light we saw before, except this time it appears to be on top of 'Mount Bessie' instead of 'Baldy."'

Returning to his radar scope, Cal picked up the phone and dialed. "Sgt. Duffey, this is York in Operations. You need to come up here."

"York, why are you calling me at this time of night?"

"I just need you to come up here and look at something, Duffey," Cal answered.

Duffey reacted in an irritated tone: "Don't you know that I've worked a shift and just got to sleep about an hour ago?"

"But look, Duffey," insisted Cal, "I'm sorry about that, but you are NCO Operations Chief, and you need to be here."

Duffey sighed: "Well, tell me what the problem is."

"All I can tell you is that it has something to do with the red light we saw about two weeks ago."

"I'll be there as soon as I can get dressed," Duffey replied. "Call Lt. Scoggins and tell him I'll meet him there ASAP!"

After having called around the small site to several locations, Cal found Lt. Scoggins at the Officers' Club. "Sir, Cal addressed him, "this is York in operations."

"Yes, York," answered Scoggins, "have you been trying to find me?"

"Yes, sir, we have an unusual situation up here, and Sgt. Duffey wants you to meet him here immediately."

"What is it?" asked the lieutenant. "Something to do with a radar problem?"

"No, Sir," replied Cal, "it has something to do with the red light that you observed a few weeks ago."

"If Sgt. Duffey gets there before I do, tell him I'll be there soon."

"Yes, sir," said Cal, "I'll do that." Then he hung up.

Sgt. Duffey showed up at Operations just a few minutes later. He was out of breath and very excited. From his room in the Level Two Quarters section, there were at least fifty steps up and five long hallways. Duffey must have run most of the way because he arrived at operations quickly. By the time the sergeant caught his breath, Scoggins had arrived.

Cal spoke to both of them: "Sgt. Thompson called me around 01:30 hours and reported sighting a very low-f lying aircraft. I can't be positive about the exact time, but it was close to thirty or forty minutes ago. There was nothing on the scope but an inbound commercial aircraft almost two hundred miles out and 35,000 feet altitude. He claims it was flashing red, blue, and green lights. I've kept checking the scope, but nothing's ever showed."

"York," Lt. Scoggins asked, "have you checked the weather observation window?" As he asked, they were on the way to the window to look for themselves. Cal did not bother to reply because they all had arrived at the window at that moment. Scoggins was finishing the question as they stopped.

Duffey spoke before Cal could say anything, anyhow: "Lieutenant, it looks like the red light we saw before, and it's in the same place."

Scoggins had brought his binoculars and proceeded to put them up to his eyes. He intently studied the bright red light across the twenty miles of frozen and desolate bay. He said nothing for what seemed several minutes. He was wondering how a light could appear in this remote spot.

From the site where they were, it was six miles down the mountain to the Lower Camp Runway. During the summer for two to four weeks, a very rugged road wound down the mountain, a road which could be traveled in trucks. That is the way it was when Cal had arrived in August of the previous year. Snow still covered the peaks of all the mountains including "Baldy and Bessie," but the road was clear. Back then, Cal had just turned twenty-two and, at five-foot-ten and 150 pounds, was in very good physical condition. When he had stepped off that C-47, Cal had wondered how anyone could stay mentally and physically healthy for twelve months in a place like this.

This time of year, the mountain road was buried under thirty feet of snow and ice. To get from Upper Camp to Lower Camp, one had to use a Trackmaster, a bright "Air Force Blue" vehicle approximately twelve feet in length and eight feet in width with tracks like a tank. The treads were slightly over three feet high, and one had to pull himself up into the door. The vehicle would hold six to eight persons comfortably and would take close to an hour to traverse the distance down to Lower Camp.

As Scoggins continued observing the light, he thought about the problems of getting down the mountain, across the frozen bay, and then to "Mount Baldy" or "Bessie."

Finally he answered Sgt. Duffey's question: "I think this has to be the same red light we saw before . . . but it isn't in the same place. Two weeks ago it appeared to be on top of 'Baldy' on the left, but now it seems to be on 'Bessie' on the right. I'm trying to figure out how we could get a team over there to check it out, but it just seems to be impossible."

"I think anybody who tries get over there has to be crazy, Lieutenant," remarked Duffey. "There's no way I would go."

Scoggins looked at Duffey thoughtfully: "Sergeant, what about the so-called craft Sgt. Thompson saw flying just before the red light appeared?"

Duffey showed a doubtful smile: "Thompson is basically a . . . nut, Lieutenant. I wouldn't put much stock in anything he saw."

"That may be true, Sgt. Duffey," responded Scoggins, "but I think it's a little odd that this red light has reappeared just a few minutes after his sighting."

As they were speaking, the strange light went out, as if turned off, even while Lt. Scoggins viewed it through his binoculars. At that moment, Scoggins gave Duffey an order:

"Sergeant, make a report of our sighting and of Sgt. Thompson's, and turn them in to Col. Solomon first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Sir,'' Duffey answered respectfully, "I'll do it right away."

As an afterthought, Lt. Scoggins added, "Keep a close watch out from here at Upper Camp and from the Comm. Site. Inform them at Lower Camp to keep someone on watch until further notice."

Later, after Col. Solomon had reviewed Sgt. Duffey's report on the previous night's sightings, he ordered the site to be on alert. Solomon also drew up a defense of the site and issued .30 Caliber Carbine rifles to every man on the site.

Cal and Allen continued to watch the skies as often as possible along with everyone else at the site. Yet several weeks went by with nothing being seen.

CHAPTER II
ROUTINE BUSINESS

The often-boring routine returned to Saglek Bay Radar Station over the next weeks, and nothing extraordinary occurred.

Cal thought back to the time before he had arrived at the bay. He recalled how he had first arrived on a large commercial airliner at Goose Air Force Base, three hundred miles south. He had flown from McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey.

Originally stationed at Fort Lee Air Force Station in Virginia, he and his two roommates had kept complaining about not being transferred for over two years, that is, until one day when they all finally received orders.

On that day, Cal and his two acquaintances, Strickland and Adams, had come to check their mail boxes, and each pulled out a thick packet of orders along with their other mail.

"Oh, my!" Strickland remarked. "We're being transferred. Where are you going to, Adams?"

After a brief study of the orders, Adams replied, "It looks like Okinawa or somewhere near there. How 'bout you, Strick?"

"I think my orders say the same thing. How 'bout your orders, York?"

"I'll swear, I can't tell," Cal answered with dread. "It says to report to the 924th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron, APO New York 10070. What in the world does that mean, and where is it?"

A visit to personnel did not help much. All anyone there could tell him was that he was either going to Newfoundland or some point in Labrador.

Upon arriving at Operations at Fort Lee on a swing shift, Cal had complained to Tech. Sgt. Key: "Sarge, I received orders today, but nobody can tell me what they mean or where I'm going."

"Let me see your orders," Sgt. Key requested. "Maybe I can help."

Cal handed the thick envelope to the sergeant, and, after only about ten seconds, Key began laughing.

"What's so funny, Sarge?" inquired Cal.

Sgt. Key was now almost hysterical and dropped Cal's orders in the floor. He was holding his sides trying to compose himself. "I can tell you exactly where you're going, York," he chuckled, "because I've been there myself --Saglek Bay, Labrador, the end of the world."

Cal did not know what to think of this as Sgt. Key gave him a suggestion:

"Uh, York, you'd better get plenty of sunshine in the next few weeks because you won't be seeing the sun much up there."

Three weeks later, Cal found himself arriving at Goose Air Force Base, and, as he disembarked from the plane, he noticed WELCOME signs all around the airport entrance.

Gee, Cal thought, this doesn't seem so bad. At least, there are a lot of friendly people here.

When he entered the airport, he was immediately pushed aside by a surging throng of people welcoming home their teachers for the school year.

Pushed off to the side, Cal finally found a small window where all new personnel were to report. After turning over his orders to the Airman manning Personnel Transfer, he waited to be processed. The airman in personnel said to Cal, "Say, York, do you see that guy over there standing next to the coffee shop?"

"Yes, I see him" answered Cal. "Who is he?"

"His name is Jack Chart, and he's being transferred to Saglek Bay, too."

"Thanks," Cal said, "I'll go over and introduce myself. I could use a friend around here."

Making his way through the crowd still mingling with their new teachers, he finally managed to reach the coffee shop. "Excuse me," Cal said politely, "you're Jack Chart, aren't you?"

"Yeah," the other man snapped, "who wants to know?"

"My name is Cal York, and I'm on my way to Saglek Bay, the same place you're going."

Chart simply stared and said, "So?" With that, he picked up his bag and just walked away. Cal thought to himself: of all the people I've met, this is one I'll never like.

A few hours later, when Cal had arrived at his temporary quarters, he met his new roommate . . . Jack Chart! When Cal entered the room, Jack looked up and said, "Look, I want to apologize for acting like a jerk. You're York, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's right, Jack, answered Cal. "What was the problem over at the terminal?"

"Oh," Jack answered, embarrassed, "I just got married recently, then I received orders to come here, and I'm just mad at everybody. Again I apologize, and I could do with a new friend, too."

Over the next three days, they became very good friends. Jack learned that Cal was very good at shooting pool and became quite proud of him. (In fact, that was really the only thing that Cal had been very good at doing. He was never a very good student in high school; he led a rather unremarkable life. He was also shy and unassuming, never outstanding at anything. . . except shooting pool. Cal had always wanted to be "someone special" or to do something remarkable and be known by everyone.)

On their third day at Goose Air Force Base, Cal and Jack reported to the Airport for their flight to Saglek Bay. A sad-looking C-47 sat alone on the runway with a ladder hanging out the door. Cal picked up his bag and climbed the ladder. He was amazed to see all the seats removed from the right side of the airplane, from back to front. Cargo was stacked to the ceiling where the seats should have been, and ropes were lashed from the cargo to the seats and then back again. Everyone had to climb through the ropes to reach a seat. This was the only way to transport fresh supplies to their destination.

During the three-hour trip on the twin-engine C-47, all Cal saw below was mile after endless mile of barren waste land and snow-capped mountain peaks. Turbulent winds occasionally buffeted the plane until they approached the cliff at Saglek Bay. If one looked very hard, he could see the buildings on top of the cliff face and the white golf-ball-looking radar building.

After landing on the short runway at Lower Camp, the plane taxied to a stop in front of the metal building used for equipment and storage. Several personnel were waiting for them to disembark.

Sgt. Skelton was the first to reach Cal as they came off the C-47. "Airman York," he said, "we have heard all about you and are very happy to meet you."

This was the jolliest, smiling sergeant Cal had ever seen. He had a physique more like Santa Claus than anyone else Cal had ever seen. He also talked faster than Cal could keep up with.

"Sgt. Skelton, I'm glad to meet you, too," Cal replied.

Skelton burst out laughing and said, "York, you must be the slowest-talking guy I've ever met."

Then he began to introduce Cal to the others and each time in the same way. He would say, "I want you to meet Airman York. He's the slowest- talking, slowest-walking airman ever to come to Saglek Bay." Then he would burst out laughing again.

Skelton continued talking of Cal's way of speaking slowly during the slow drive up the mountain to Upper Camp, and he kept laughing about it the whole way. Apparently almost all the personnel at Saglek Bay were from the New England area, and Cal's West Virginia drawl was a great contrast and seemed to be a source of amusement for everyone.

After Cal and Jack had stored their gear in the tiny one-man rooms they were to occupy for the next twelve months, they began to explore the site and found their way to the recreation room. There were several enlisted men there playing pool on the only pool table on the site. There were also a couple of men playing table tennis. Jack, who was rather loud and boisterous, challenged Airman Willis, a black airman recognized as the best pool player on the site, to a match against Cal who had said nothing at the time. A few minutes later, Cal had "run the table," and Willis had been defeated. This resulted in all the black men on the site giving Cal a new name -- "Youngblood." Jack was also christened with a new name as well -- "Motor Mount!"

Now, finally, Cal had a reputation, and it seemed to have come suddenly. He was now known as Youngblood, the slowest talking, slowest-walking airman to ever come to Saglek Bay. Sgt. Skelton, at a morning briefing of all site personnel, once said, "Men! We have a contest going on here at the site this week: The man who correctly guesses how long it will take Airman York to recite the Gettysburg Address will win $25.00 Of course, everyone cracked up, that is, except Cal who was quite embarrassed.

One of the things that Cal came to be appointed to do was the printing of the new weather data placed on the large Plexiglas board in Operations. Of all the personnel in the OPS room, his ability seemed to the neatest. The new-arrival took much pride in his new-found fame as Youngblood the pool shark and his reputation for neat, concise handwriting. Now, instead of being an obscure airman to whom no one paid any attention, he was now "somebody."

However, all fame is fleeting and such was Cal's. It ended very abruptly after a brief twenty-day leave home, for, when Cal returned to Saglek Bay, Sgt. Skelton again met him at the Lower Camp runway.

"Airman York," the sergeant attempted to drawl as slowly as he could, "I have someone new here whom you just have to meet."

"Who is it, Sarge?" Cal asked with sincere curiosity.

"His name is Carl Dobbins, and he comes from Oklahoma. He is now the new 'slowest-talkin', slowest-walkin' person I have ever seen. Why, it'll probably take you two a whole week just to say hello." Then he chuckled.

As soon as they arrived at Upper Camp, Sgt. Skelton took Cal to meet Dobbins. Cal immediately took to liking Carl the moment they shook hands. Skelton was right: Carl spoke more slowly even than Cal . . . and Carl had also been given the assignment of writing the weather report on the Control Center board since he had arrived over two weeks earlier. In fact, Carl's writing looked more like calligraphy. It was the most beautiful and most precise handwriting anyone had ever seen at Saglek Bay . . . and Cal was out of a job.

The first thing Carl wanted to do was to go "shoot a little pool." Cal was thinking, Yeah, we'll shoot some pool, and I'll clean his clock. At least, I'll get back a little of my dignity.

That thought lasted until Carl broke the rack of pool balls and promptly "ran the table," winning the first game. Cal did not even have a chance to shoot -- he was still holding his pool cue. Carl was just getting warmed up. This was the finest pool player Cal had ever known, and, as good as Cal had been, he could not come close to winning a game with Carl Dobbins. The really strange part is that, even though Cal lost his thunder and fame in an instant to this "Okie from Muskogee," Carl was just about the "nicest guy" Cal had ever met.

The two men became instant friends, although Cal now once again felt that he was the same "nobody" he had been before coming to Saglek Bay. Perhaps that was the reason Cal went along with Big Allen a few weeks later, went with him when he should have known better. . . .

CHAPTER III
TRIP TO HEBRON

It began as another one of those boring days, as Cal had often thought of Air Force life, when Allen came to Cal's room and asked, "What are we going to do while off duty? If we don't find something interesting to pass the time, I think I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well," responded Cal after some thought, "why don't we take a trip over to 'Mt. Baldy."' Then he chuckled, trying to make a joke of it: "We could try to see what caused that red light we saw a while back."

For a split second, Allen showed a blank look until it suddenly occurred to him what Cal was saying. "Hey, that's a good idea! Start getting your gear together, and I'll go borrow a Trackmaster from the motor pool."

"Come on, Allen," Cal chided. "That was just a joke. There's no way we can make it over to 'Mount Baldy' and survive. It's too far . . . and it's too cold."

"Listen, York," said Allen, after a moment's reflection, "I've given it some thought, and I say we can do it. Just get your Arctic gear together, and I'll see Simmons in the motor pool. I'll fill you in on the way down the hill."

After Allen had left, Cal opened his foot locker and removed all the gear he would need for such a venture. First there was the parka and the nylon gloves. Next came nylon, insulated iron pants and fur-lined boots. Then, as he began to put on the insulated underwear he once again found himself having second thoughts. This is the most insane thing I've ever done, he thought silently. At minus ten or minus twelve, with all that snow and the wind always blowing, we'll be lucky if we can make it over there, let alone get back here. But Allen is so convincing . . . and so big. Then Cal mused out loud, "Maybe he does have a good plan, and he knows what he is talking about."

Allen had taken the several long hallways and steps down to the motor pool and found Airman Simmons working on one of the trucks that would be used when the thaw finally arrived.

"Simmons," Allen called to him, "I need one of your Trackmasters for a little trip." He realized he had understated the matter.

"Get outta here," Simmons answered. "You're nuts. No one takes a Trackmaster out of here but me, and even I have to have a good reason to use it." So Simmons had told him in no uncertain terms; then he asked, "What do you want it for, anyway, a joy ride or something?"

Allen considered trying more tact: "No, it's not for a joy ride, but I can't tell you why. You just have to trust me, okay?"

The softening response did not work, for Simmons replied, "I don't have to trust you or anybody else, and unless you tell me why, you can just forget it."

"Okay, okay," Allen said resignedly, "I understand. . . but I still can't tell you. " Then he started to turn and walk away. "Look, " he said, rotating back toward Simmons, "would you at least give York and me a ride down to Lower Camp in about an hour. I'll tell you what we're doing on the way down."

Simmons stood with his hand on his chin to decide. "Well, okay, yeah, I guess I can do that. Besides, I have to go pick up a part for this truck I've been working on anyway. So be ready at thirteen-hundred hours here in the motor pool."

Promptly at one p.m. Cal and Allen showed up at the motor pool, lugging all their Arctic gear and some supplies that Allen obtained at the PX. Simmons looked at all the gear and commented, "You guys must be out of your minds. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were going on a picnic or something."

"That's it, Allen replied, as if some light had come on in his head, though facetiously adding, "just a picnic at the park. " Then he let out a laugh that seemed only to irritate Simmons even further.

"Look here, " Simmons said, "you need to tell me what's going on here so I don't get into any trouble for taking you."

"This is Allen's little expedition, " Cal explained, and he hasn't even filled me in on the details. I don't see how whatever we do can get you into any trouble."

"Well," Simmons told them, "I'll take you to Lower Camp and then you're on your own. If you get into anything, I don't want to know about it."

The two other men loaded their gear and took the long Trackmaster ride to Lower Camp in silence. They were on their way to "Mount Baldy," and Cal still had no earthly idea how they were going . . . or how and when they would ever return!

Finally arriving at the Lower Camp site, Airman Simmons parked the Trackmaster next to a small metal building. Saglek Bay personnel simply referred to this as the "40 by 40," for the building just happened to be forty feet square. Located at the upper end of a runway lying between two mountains on the bay, the building served as the Lower Camp airport. The "40 by 40" also was the warehouse for parts such as what Simmons had come to pick up for the truck at Upper Camp.

As Simmons went to find the part, Cal and Allen unloaded their Arctic gear. As Cal thought about the bay, now frozen for miles out to sea and covered with snow, he said, "Allen, you still haven't told me what this brilliant plan of yours is all about." He was more than just slightly irritated.

"Okay," answered Allen, "but it's no big secret. All we need to do is get us a ride over to Hebron; then we're over half-way there."

Surprised, Cal asked,

"You mean, you want us to go to the Eskimo village?"

"Sure, why not?" Allen returned matter-of-factly.

Cal still did not understand: "But how does that help us to get over to 'Mount Baldy'?"

"Don't worry about it, man. I'll take care of all the details. Just hang in there, and I'll be back soon." After Allen had been gone for a while, Cal made the decision to try not to be concerned about the consequences of this venture. When Allen returned approximately an hour later, he found Cal in the small lounge reading a book.

Hurrying in, he said, "Come on, Cal. Let's get outta here. Grab all your gear."

By now, Cal was weary of asking questions, so without a word he gathered up all his Arctic gear and followed Allen out the door. Then he saw that Allen had somehow acquired an old Trackmaster . . . and they were making a quick getaway. He threw all his belongings inside and jumped into the front seat as Allen took the controls. With a grinding, coughing, and whirring, the engine barked into life. As the black smoke came out of the tailpipe, there came additional coughing and spitting. Allen jerked it into gear, and they were off.

Cal seemed to be dumbfounded and did not ask any questions, for he knew not what to say. He found himself waiting for the engine to blow up so they could walk back to Lower Camp and find a ride back to Upper Camp. Then they could forget this whole ridiculous episode.

Somewhere in all this wondering, the coughing, spitting engine smoothed out, and they were more securely on their way to Hebron. This was going to take a couple of hours because the trail to the mid-point was very rugged, and the old Trackmaster could only travel at about five miles per hour.

As time passed, Cal found himself enjoying the trip because he had never been to Hebron, so he simply settled back and watched the magnificent scenery.

Then after several minutes of silence, he asked, "Allen, how did you manage to get this old Trackmaster?"

"Well," Allen began, "I found it in one of those small buildings out back of the '40 by 40.' The key was in the ignition . . . so I just sort of, uh . . . you know, uh, borrowed it. "

"Borrowed it!" Cal exclaimed. "You didn't borrow it; you stole it! You're going to get us both court martialed.."

"Relax," Allen replied, just as calm as if he were talking about borrowing a pencil. "This old Trackmaster has been in that building since I've been here. Nobody'll even know it's gone. The guys at Lower Camp were down at the end of the runway doing repairs and didn't see us leave." so they simply chugged along, not talking much and heading for Hebron and for heaven knows-what.

Cal was wondering what kind of a fool he was for trusting Allen, and now he was riding to an Eskimo village in a stolen Trackmaster. Sure enough, after slightly over two hours of bumping along on an almost invisible snow-covered trail, they finally sighted the small wooden buildings of Hebron. There were thirty-five to forty sturdy buildings scattered around a small area in what could have been described as a little valley.

Strangely there was no one around, and the dogs Cal had heard about and which he had been warned to be aware of were no where to be seen. All the personnel at Saglek Bay had been warned to be wary of the Eskimo dogs because they were never fed very well, and they could be vicious. They had been told that if one fell to the ground, packs of Eskimo dogs might attack. Yet here they were, and there were no dogs to be seen . . . and no Eskimos.

Turning off the engine of the Trackmaster, the two men sat in silence until they could stand it no more. Allen spoke first: "I wonder what to make of this. I've heard that this place is supposed to be crawling with dogs and kids."

"Yeah," answered Cal, "what's going on here? one of the guys told me that, when he once came here, everybody came out and greeted him like he was family."

Allen and Cal both put on their parkas and exited the Trackmaster to look around. From Hebron, "Mount Baldy" looked spectacular. Rising to just over three thousand feet and blanketed with snow, it had the frozen bay in front and "Mount Bessie" off to the right. Each mountain seemed to touch at their bases, and they were almost exactly the same height. The twin peaks stood out among hundreds of other mountains going off to the south as far as one could see.

Cal stood staring at them in their majesty in awe of their desolate beauty. The deserted Eskimo village and the total stillness began to give him an eerie feeling. As he started to speak, they both spotted a tiny trace of smoke trailing from one of the buildings at the far side of Hebron. It was a gut-wrenching feeling.

Allen motioned for Cal to follow him. They walked very slowly toward the building from which they had spotted smoke. They walked up to the door. They knocked, and after what seemed to be a very long time, Allen knocked again. A very old man finally opened the door a few inches but, peering out, said nothing.

"Excuse me," Allen said with his hand gently against the door, "but we're from the site at Saglek Bay. Where did everyone go?"

"Nobody here," said the old man, and he tried to close the door.

With increased but gentle pressure, Allen pushed the door back to where it had been. "But where have they gone anyway?" he inquired.

"Nobody here," the old man repeated. "They gone to Hopedale."

"Hopedale?" Allen repeated. "At this time of year? That's close to two hundred miles away! Why did they all go?"

"Nobody here!" the exasperated old man behind the door repeated. Then he closed the door and locked it.

Cal and Allen stood and stared at the door that had been closed in front of them. Then they stared at each other. "Something very strange is going on here, Allen," Cal said. "Maybe we should get back and forget this whole idiotic idea."

"No way I'm going to forget anything," Allen stated. "Let's find a place to sleep tonight; then we'll get started as soon as it gets light."

"Let's see," Cal replied. "That'll be about ten o'clock in the morning. We'll have close to seven hours of daylight because it'll be dark again by five p.m.

"That'll work," Allen responded. "Let's check out some of these cabins that are abandoned."

As it turned out, none of the cabins were locked, for Cal and Allen easily opened the doors of several of them and looked inside. They were all quite alike. Pillars of heavy wood were embedded into the rocky earth with a twenty- to twenty-five-foot wooden cabin resting on top of them. They were square with a couple of windows, the frames being made of heavy metal containing thick glass to keep the high winds from blowing them out. In addition, there was a solid front door at the top of eight steps. A flat roof kept most of the heat from rising too high, and such an arrangement helped them to be fairly comfortable. The one Cal and Allen chose had two little bedrooms and one central room in which stood a kerosene heater used both for cooking and heating. They chose this particular cabin because it seemed somewhat cleaner than the others, and they found it well-stocked with kerosene and even some canned goods.

Cal soon had the cabin warmed up while Allen brought the Trackmaster around back and carried in their gear. After heating up some of the food and having a decent meal, the two decided to turn in for the night. It had been a long day, even though Cal reflected that they had not actually performed much physical labor.

Around midnight, Cal awakened for some unknown reason. It was then that he thought he heard something -- or felt something, which, he could not tell. He had fallen back to sleep, yet not very deeply, when he felt . . . or heard it again. It was a trembling or a rumbling coming from somewhere underground . . . .

Quietly arising, he peered into the other bedroom and saw Allen sitting up in bed. His friend was listening intently with a questioning look on his face.

"What do you think it is, Allen?" Cal asked in a low volume.

"I don't have a clue," Allen replied in a monotone voice. "The wind isn't strong, and it isn't like you can feel it as much as you can almost hear it. " Then he added in a forced chuckle, "Now I think I know why the Eskimos left here. They'd never heard anything like this before, and they were scared."

Cal felt a chill down his spine. "Well, I'm scared, too," he uttered, "and I still think we should go back to Lower Camp."

"Ah, come on!" Allen said as he showed irritation at Cal's constant complaining about going back. "We've come this far. We might as well go on over to 'Mount Baldy' and check this whole thing out. Besides, if we go back now, we'll never find out what this is all about. It'll drive me nuts for the rest of my life."

"Okay, okay, " Cal sighed. "Let's try to get back to sleep and then get over there to find out what's going on . . . if we can." As he turned around to walk back into his own room, he stopped and remarked, "You know what, Allen? I'm going to say something I've never dreamed I'd say: I'm going to be so happy to get back to Saglek Bay and my own little, tiny room."

"Go on. Get some sleep," Allen said with an unsentimental wave of the hand, "and don't ever say anything like that again!"

CHAPTER IV
ON TO THE MOUNTAIN

After a long night with little sleep brought on by the strange trembling sound that seemed to emanate from somewhere underground, Cal and Allen at last arose. It was nine a.m. --just before daybreak. Without conversing much, the two men went about getting ready for the trip over to "Mount Baldy." Cal started the coffee and, after searching, found some powdered eggs to fix for breakfast. Allen went out to the Trackmaster and began stowing away their gear.

Cal heard him start up the old vehicle and assumed that he just wanted to warm it up, but then he heard him drive away. Sometime later, after Cal had finished his coffee and breakfast, he heard Allen returning.

Entering the cabin, Allen said, "I've been over to see that old Eskimo we met last night. I got him to talk a little more, and he told me how to get on around the bay to the mountain, so we won't have to walk as far as I thought we would."

"That's great," Cal replied slowly but sarcastically. "Maybe we won't die as soon as I thought we would, either."

Allen sighed irritatingly: "Come on, let's finish up here and get going."

When Allen had finished his own eggs and coffee, the two of them cleaned up, straightened up the cabin, and left five dollars on the kitchen table.

Scrambling up into the Trackmaster, they were both astonished to see the old Eskimo with all his meager belongings and several dogs. They were heading south toward Hopedale.

Deciding not to worry anymore about the trembling noise they had heard during the night, or about the Eskimos who had abandoned their village, Allen placed the Trackmaster in gear. They were on their way around the bay toward "Baldy."

In actuality, this old Trackmaster had a top speed capacity of twenty-five miles per hour, but it was because of the terrain around Saglek Bay that it would move at only a velocity of five to ten miles per hour. There were huge boulders covered with ice and snow, and there really was no trail to follow. So the going was very treacherous and very slow. Many times they had to stop and reverse course to negotiate around difficult rock slides. All that time, "Baldy" kept getting closer and growing larger.

Slowly the old vehicle wound its way around Saglek Bay and loosely followed an old Eskimo trail that had been used to reach a better fishing area. All that time, the mountain was looming inexorably larger. The bay, on the right, was covered with ice, yet Allen realized that it could be too thin in places to support the weight of the Trackmaster. So they stayed just off the edge, and sometimes just on the edge, when passing a very difficult area on the extremely rough trail.

Saglek Bay was four miles wide with Mounts "Baldy" and "Bessie Of on one side and an 1800-foot cliff on the other. The radar station sat there on top of the cliff with the short runway below that, now so seemingly far away. Rumbling along the edge of the bay, they could see across it and on out into the North Atlantic. Nothing but ice, snow, huge boulders, and mountain ranges could be viewed as far as the eye could see.

Slowly, onward they continued, in silent awe of the majesty of "Mount Baldy" until now they were about one mile away from its base. Suddenly the old Trackmaster came to an abrupt halt as if it had run headlong into a wall. Cal and Allen were thrown forward out of their seats.

Shocked and startled, Cal asked, "What did we run into, Allen?"

"I don't know," Allen answered with his eyes opened wide, "and I don't see anything. But let's back up and go around it."

Backing the Trackmaster about ten or twelve feet, Allen maneuvered to the left of the trail and began inching slowly forward once again. Coming to a lurching stop, the Trackmaster again acted as if it had run into something.

The two men were better-prepared this time, for they had held on to their seats. They stared in front of them and saw what appeared to be . . . nothing.

"This time there is absolutely nothing for us to hit," Cal said, "so what's stopping us?"

"I'll swear I don't know," Allen replied. "All I know to do is get out and take a look."

With that, they put their parkas back on, pulled their hoods tight around their heads, and slowly climbed out. Walking on the tractor treads toward the front, they looked first to see whether they could discover what had blocked their path. Seeing nothing, they stared . . . then they stared at each other. With a nod, they both jumped to the snow-packed ground and walked very cautiously toward each other along the front of the Trackmaster.

Just as they cleared the front of the vehicle to turn toward each other, Cal and Allen simultaneously ran into something invisible. Allen first reached out his hand to touch "it." Then Cal repeated the gesture only to find that here was something which, though totally invisible, felt like a solid wall of glass!

"What do you make of this, Allen?" Cal asked, astonishment and fear rising like a choking lump in his throat.

"This is absolutely amazing," said Allen, as if he never heard Cal's inquiry. "This is absolutely . . . impossible!"

Cal was stricken with panic and did not know whether to repeat his question.

Allen continued: "Cal, I tell you what: You move off : to the right, and I'll move off to the left. Let's see how far this wall goes."

Still startled, Cal watched Allen move off to the left of the Trackmaster, his hand chest-high as he continued to feel the invisible wall. Awaking to what Allen had said, Cal began moving very slowly in the opposite direction deliberately feeling the wall with his hand gingerly, with fear and trepidation.

Encountering no break in the wall some ten minutes later, Allen and Cal began walking back toward each other once again. As they met back at the Trackmaster, (neither of them were speaking because they were both in AWE of the wall) Allen stooped to pick up a handful of snow and packed a snowball. He was astonished as he threw the snowball at the wall and it passed straight threw as if there were no wall there at all.

"My God, Allen!" Cal exclaimed. "What is going on here?" He now began packing snow into snowballs, as was Allen, and they both threw many of them at the wall and all the snowballs sailed to the other side unabated.

Now their fear was replaced with intrigue! Allen opened the back door of the Trackmaster and dug out a small shovel. Digging into the snow, he finally reached ground after a few minutes, and pulled out a fist-sized rock.

Allen gave Cal a questioning look - - - as if to say, Should I ? A yes nod from Cal. Allen heaved the rock into the wall in front of the Trackmaster. BANG!! It resounded off the wall and seemed to vibrate for at least one hundred yards!

"This is fantastic!" Allen remarked. " I wonder how high it is ?" Using his shovel to dig out more rocks, he and Cal came up with several handfuls of small pebbles. Allen, at six-foot four and 275 pounds could throw really hard. Cocking his arm as a baseball pitcher would, he wound up and gave a mighty heave.

The pebbles flared out as they hurtled toward the distant Mount Baldy. They began landing on the wall nearly one hundred feet away and tumbling back down, making it evident that this invisible wall was curving away from the ground toward the top of the mountain. While Allen's pebbles were still clattering down toward them, Cal threw his handful in like manner, with the same results.

Allen dug out a small boulder, weighing at least fifty to sixty pounds, and hurled it against the wall. BANG!! It struck the wall with a resounding CRASH and bounced off! As the boulder thudded into the snow, another vibration was set off that seemed to run down the wall for a half-mile or more.

The two friends simply stood there in silence, listening to the wind as it began to chill them to the bone. What were they to do now? Standing here in this snow-covered wilderness, with an invisible glass wall in front of them: Mount Baldy within sight, but unreachable: Mount Bessie off to the right and the ice covered bay stretching out to seaward, Allen and Cal were dumbfounded and confused. They had no idea of what action to take next. The complete and utter aloneness began to seep into their very souls and put them into a deep and dark depression.

That's when a different sound penetrated the confusion and depression. These two stared in unbelief as a large opening began emerging in the side of Mount Baldy. This was the sound of high pitched hydraulics opening a large door approximately 500 feet up in the side of the huge mountain. It took no more than two minutes for the doorway to open, and as they continued to stare at the opening, a small vehicle of some kind slid silently and very slowly through the opening into view.

Allen and Cal watched a small silver vehicle drift out of the large doorway and turn in their direction. The silver colored vehicle had no apparent means of propulsion, but simply slid out the doorway and stayed about 500 feet high and slowly headed toward them. The strange craft seemed to be six to eight feet wide with a flat bottom. It was also some twenty feet long and seven or eight feet tall.

This noiseless craft displayed no visible markings of any kind and there was no evidence of windows. All along the sides were small slots and possibly where the front should be. The back of this craft was not visible, but those slots extended completely around from front to back.

Cal and Allen continued to stare at the slow moving vehicle as it sluggishly approached the invisible wall that had been absorbing punishment from them.

By now it finally dawned on these two perpetrators that this invisible wall was really a very sophisticated FORCE FIELD installed as a fence around the mountain to protect whatever was going on inside. These beings, wherever they came from were coming out to investigate -- and it's for certain they were not from Cincinnati!!

The small silver vehicle continued to cruise very very slowly as it descended in altitude. The vehicle approached the invisible wall that had been plummeted with rocks by unknown assailants.

Suddenly, both Allen and Cal felt like small schoolboys caught messing with a neighbor's fence, and about to be punished!

Then a cold fear enveloped them with the realization that there was no place to hide. These beings could be little green slimy men, or heartless robots sent out to destroy them!

"Allen!" Cal exclaimed. "Let's get outta here - - FAST!" "Oh, God, Cal!" Allen yelled in an excited voice. "They're going to kill us for sure. Let's MOVE "

Jumping up on the treads of the Trackmaster, they were scrambling to get inside to relative safety. Getting inside as quickly as possible, these two found themselves in mortal danger. They snapped on their seatbelts, for they both knew this was going to be a very rough ride.

Allen fired up the engine of the Trackmaster which belched out black smoke and roared to life. He swung the small blue vehicle in a 360 degree arc while giving it all the power it could muster.

As soon as the engine roared to life, they attracted the attention of their inquisitor. Cal, still watching it intently, noticed a sudden acceleration as it continued toward them and the invisible glass wall.

The rectangular silver vehicle stopped when it arrived at the glass wall as Cal and Allen raced away in the stolen Trackmaster.

"It can't go through the glass wall either, Allen!" Cal exclaimed with a sign of hope rising in his throat. "Now it's turning around and going back! "We're going to get away. Maybe it didn't even see us!"

Cal was right about one thing. They could not go through the wall and they were reversing course. But he was wrong about not being seen - - - - - and wrong about getting away!

As Cal and Allen raced away in the small blue Trackmaster in a near panic, the sluggish silver vehicle moved slowly and very deliberately toward Mount Baldy rising in altitude as they came near the mountain. At the base of Mount Baldy, their foe began a steep assent to over three thousand feet and cleared the top of the FORCE FIELD, before again continuing the pursuit of these unwanted guests.

The rugged little Trackmaster can take a lot of punishment; however, now roaring along the bay trail at top speed, it was going to come apart at any minute. Every time it hit one of those small boulders that are strewn across its path, it went airborne

Allen and Cal were trying desperately to hang on as the gear stowed in the back danced crazily about inside. They were being jerked from side to side and if it hadn't been for the seatbelts, the two fugitives would have been bouncing around like everything else.

It was almost impossible to talk over the melee, but Cal finally screamed out over the roar, "Here they come again !" we didn't lose them!"

The alien vehicle was slowly but steadily overtaking the wildly careening Trackmaster while maintaining an altitude of approximately 500 feet. There were no options open to Allen and Cal except to drive on toward Hebron in the slim hope of escape.

"Maybe, Cal thought, they only want to chase us away from the invisible glass wall and Mount Baldy."

"What in the world is going on over there?" he wondered to himself. Possibly a better question would have been, What not of this world is going on at mount Baldy?

By this time the silver vehicle had passed over the stolen Trackmaster and now could be seen proceeding directly ahead of the crazily driven escape vehicle.

Then it suddenly stopped. IN MID AIR!! The alien craft began descending - - - right in the path of the bay trail. It came to another stop no more than five feet off the ground and in the middle of the trail, blocking their escape route!

Allen slowed the Trackmaster appreciably and nearly stopped; so close that they both felt they could reach out and touch this strange craft. Actually, they were some ten feet apart when Allen jerked the controls into a hard right. Even at close range the silver vehicle revealed nothing. No markings were visible and no one could be seen inside. Other than slots all along the outside, the silent craft appeared to be solid without windows or doors.

After completing a ninety degree turn the Trackmaster rammed into a large boulder, tipped up at a sharp angle, then slammed into another! - - - Allen jerked the controls left hitting two smaller boulders nearly turning over again. Miraculously, the apparently doomed Trackmaster righted itself and continued on-ward as Allen again jerked the wheel right, pulling the escape vehicle back onto the bay trail.

The alien's silver vehicle was still sitting there like it was anchored in mud.

"Allen, Cal shouted, I think we've found its Achilles Heel. It moves too slow!"

And Cal was right this time. In the atmosphere where this vehicle was designed to operate, it was quick and responsive. But here, in the heavily laden, thick atmosphere of Earth, it was very slow and cumbersome. Now the hope these two were searching for came from the Earth itself.

"Allen," Cal yelled with wide-eyed excitement, "all we have to do is to keep maneuvering out of its way till we get back to Hebron. Then if we're real lucky, we can make it back to Lower Camp!" Allen was too busy driving and dodging boulders to discuss the situation, but he now had some hope as well.

A few minutes later the silver vehicle was passing overhead again and although their hearts raced as they watched, their fear was not as great as before, and as the vehicle stopped and descended as it had previously, their plan was to simply outmaneuver this slow-footed oaf in a similar manner.

Only this time, whoever or whatever was flying this craft had other ideas!

A sudden bright flash erupted from just underneath the alien craft and was quickly approaching on a direct path toward the blue Trackmaster.

"Oh, my God, Allen, Cal screamed, he's firing on us!" Their fear returned to both men as they realized they were in very serious trouble.

This flash looked similar to a five foot-long bolt of lightning! As the bolt continued on its flight of destruction, it became readily apparent that the bolt was fairly slow moving as was the craft. Just prior to being struck, Allen jerked the wheel to the left and the bolt crashed into the bay trail three feet wide of the intended target. crack! boom! It hit and then sizzled!

Cal turned to see a large burn mark on the trail where the explosion occurred. Meanwhile Allen managed to bring the careening Trackmaster under control and back onto the bay trail.

"If that's his best shot, Allen screamed, shaking a huge fist in the direction of his hostile foe, he'll never get us!"

Five minutes went by quickly while their evidently hostile adversary got back into position to fire again. This time, with Cal and Allen intently watching, the enemy fired two bolts in rapid succession. The first one missed right as Allen jerked the wheel left, maneuvering out of its path. CRACK! BOOM! The second one came up short when Allen hit the brakes and slowed down just enough. CRACK! BOOM! Then he accelerated away. Two loud retorts followed. SIZZLE! SIZZLE!

The Trackmaster, having narrowly escaped, bounced crazily across the large burn mark in the bay trail and again left the sluggish silver vehicle sitting there above them. This was like the tortoise chasing the hare - - - - only this time the tortoise had teeth. (or in this case five foot-long bolts of lightning)

Their adversary piloting the silver vehicle would not give these two perpetrators time to catch their breath. He was now up ahead of them for the third time and setting up for yet another shot. As Allen and Cal stared up at their unrelenting foe, they saw the craft 25 or 30 feet high instead of being close to the ground as before.

"This is great," Allen shouted. At least I'll have more time to react to those bolts and get out of the way!"

Just as he finished speaking, the craft fired two more bolts in rapid succession. It was similar to the last attack and Allen took the same evasive maneuvers. Turn left - - CRACK! SIZZLE! Missed us on the right - - Brake and slow down - - CRACK! SIZZLE! Missed us short. Then a third bolt fired as Allen braked and CRACK! It hit the Trackmaster on the left front side! SIZZLE!

The track broke off the left side and the Trackmaster began to careen wildly around in a half circle toward the bay. Allen could no longer control the direction and they both knew their brief flight to safety was over.

Cal screamed at Allen, "Let's get outta here!" And Allen, gripping the wheel with all his might, screamed back, "Jump! Get out FAST!"

Cal unsnapped the seatbelt, grabbed the door handle, and as he was about to leap out, took one last look at Allen trying desperately to control the disabled Trackmaster. That's when he felt rather than heard another loud CRACK! SIZZLE! and fell in agony onto the bay trail.

As he tumbled in extreme pain onto the hard packed snow, Cal watched the doomed Trackmaster with the track blown off one side, veering in a crazy arc toward the ice covered bay.

Allen was struggling to get the left side door open, but a large burn mark scarred it from the last blast from the silver vehicle and had welded it tightly shut. Cal's best friend didn't have a prayer of getting it open.

As the bright blue Air Force Trackmaster careened out onto the thin ice, a flash erupted from the enemy piloting the silver craft above. CRACK! BOOM! SIZZLE! It hit directly in front of the Trackmaster with Allen trapped inside opening a large hole in the ice!

Less than a heartbeat later, Allen and his doomed Trackmaster plunged into that burned out hole and disappeared in a flowering gush of water and was gone!

Cal sat in stunned silence on the bay trail in disbelief of what he had just seen. When he attempted to get up and run after Allen, he fell back in excruciating pain.

Looking down at his left leg, Cal saw that he was very badly burned from the knee down, and it was readily evident his left ankle was broken. In fact, it was turned almost completely backward and his arctic boot was gone. Everything then went white as he slipped into unconsciousness!

CHAPTER V
CAPTURED OR RESCUED?

Cal began to achieve consciousness as if a gray fog were slowly clearing from his mind. It was similar to waking up from a very long sleep. He had no remembrance of any of the events over the past few days. He was simply waking up.

All was quiet except for a faint humming of machinery- -possibly an air circulation system. When he opened his eyes, an unfamiliar and uneasy feeling came from deep inside him, and he felt a twinge of fear. He seemed to be in a hospital room, but not like any he could remember.

Cal found himself in a small hospital bed that he knew could not be his own. This room was approximately sixteen feet by about twenty-four feet long and twelve feet high. The walls, the floor and ceiling were all smooth and shiny like stainless steel. There were two four-foot circular windows that he could not see through and a regular size door about three feet wide and seven feet high with no handle or knob.

Nothing was in this room but a stainless steel type bed on which Cal found himself immobilized by restraints attached to each leg. No table, chair or anything else was in the room and this left the young man very bewildered. He pulled back a satin silver-like sheet to discover his left leg in a plastic type of cast from his foot to above the knee. The confused airman felt no pain, but he could not move because of the restraints attached to the stainless type bars on either side of the bed.

Wrinkling his brow in deep thought, Cal suddenly realized that not only did he not know where he was but also that he did not know who he was either! A reality check sent a sudden cold chill that ran up between his shoulder blades and up the back of his neck making the short hair on the back of his head stand up!

Now wide-eyed and looking around the room, he began to think a lot of crazy ideas. His first thought was, "Am I in a psychiatric ward because I've lost my mind?" But then he thought, "But if I'm here because I've gone crazy, why is my left leg in this cast?" "Who brought me here?" "Did someone else get hurt?" "If I'm only injured, why are these restraints on me?" "I don't have any bumps or bruises on my head, so why can't I remember what I'm doing here?"

These and other thoughts continued to dance inside his bewildered brain; and if he wasn't crazy when someone brought him in here, he soon would be!

The handleless door slid quickly open and a young man glided gingerly into the room as the door slid quickly and silently closed behind him. Without looking in the patient's direction, he took up a position just to the right of the now closed doorway and said nothing.

Cal knew immediately that this young man was not like anyone he had ever seen before. He was tall and slim, about five feet and ten inches Cal guessed, had very pale blond hair with fairly regular features, except that his forehead was slightly wider than usual and his skin was very light - - - almost cream colored. He was dressed in a silky uniform that was partly bluish and partly green, rather tight fitting and devoid of any insignia.

This young man, as Cal would later discover, was named Bireen, did not speak and continued to simply STAND GUARD. The unending minutes ticked by as Cal stared at this young guard until finally, Cal spoke to him. "Where an I?" Bireen said nothing and did not look in his direction. Cal tried to keep his composure, "Where am I, and what am I doing here?" Bireen looked his way but still gave no response.

A little louder this time, Cal demanded, "Who are you, and for that matter, Who Am I?" It was apparent that Cal had by now lost whatever composure he had and was highly irritated by being ignored by this guard. This time Bireen looked directly at Cal, but only held up his hand as if he were a traffic cop.

As Cal stared at Bireen, his hand still in a stop position, he wasn't frightened because this was not done in a threatening gesture. But Cal was mesmerized by the fact that this young man's long and slender hand held six fingers - - - not five!

Bireen took his hand down and resumed his guard-like stance while Cal, now thoroughly confused, lay back down. He was resigned to ask no more questions. He wasn't sure that he would like the answers!

An undetermined amount of time passed as Cal's mind wandered from one crazy thought to another. It could have been fifteen or twenty minutes - - - maybe more before the door quickly and very silently slid open again.

Two lovely young women came into the room and the mysterious door quickly slid to the closed position again. With a quick glance at Bireen, they went about their duties without conversation.

Both of these young women were about five foot six or seven, slim and pretty with shoulder length blondish gold hair and regular features. They both had a small nose and the wide foreheads like Bireen, and then he noticed that all three had very small ears. These two looked exactly alike - - - twins, Cal thought.

They had beautiful cream-colored skin and all of them looked at him with pale blue eyes that seemed to be dancing busily about his room. Cal would soon be told the names of these two as well. They were Aprell and Dawna, and they were here to care for him.

One of the pretty young girls gazed at the wall beside Cal's bed and a cabinet emerged outward of its own accord about eighteen inches and stopped. With wide-eyed ignorance, he stared first at the cabinet that appeared out of nowhere and then at the girl that evidently caused it to happen.

Dawna opened the cabinet door and a tray of medical supplies and instruments slid into easy access. Aprell took out an instrument and held it to Cal's forehead, evidently taking readings of some sort. Dawna held a strange looking devise that she ran from his knee to the ankle along the top of the cast. The instrument was ten to twelve inches long and was about three inches in diameter. Flashing lights circled it from its base to the top of it and then back down again. This devise seemed to give her a reading, but no one in the room was discussing any of their findings with him or with each other.

In a subdued tone, Cal quietly asked them, "Who are you people?" They ignored his question and contained with their examination as if he were a wounded animal and they were just being compassionate to him. That's when he noticed that these two pretty attendants also had six fingers on each hand.

Cal tried being a little more firm, "Where am I, and who are you people?" They ignored his questions and continued to do their work in silence. It was strange how they all seemed to know what each member was doing because no one spoke, but simply looked at one another occasionally while they worked.

Finally, after running several tests and using a variety of instrumentation, Aprell and Dawna replaced them into the cabinet, looked at it, and it just silently slid into the wall and disappeared as if it had never been there.

Dawna, Aprell and Bireen all looked intently at each other, as if contemplating something important before coming to a unanimous agreement.

Aprell gazed at a spot on the opposite wall, and a small room slid out some five feet by six feet into the room. It had a door but no windows and just seemed to appear from nowhere. The other girl, Dawna, gazed at the restraints holding him, and all of them came loose at once and he was free of bonds.

Bireen came over to assist Cal from the bed to this small room, gazing at the door and watching it open on its own as they crossed the short distance. Dumbfounded, he looked inside to find a very modern bathroom facility. Cal was relieved when Bireen let him enter alone and the door closed behind him. He found a change of clothes into the same silky blue/green body suit worn by his three attendants

A long hot shower was an aphrodisiac after the ordeal of a medical examination from these strange people who would not speak to him.

This surrealistically strange room, the peculiar people, the equipment and rooms appearing and disappearing into and out of walls were almost more than his finite mind could stand! Trying to put all of this out of his consciousness, Cal simply used the restroom facilities, took a long hot shower, found some unusual shaving equipment and was very grateful for this moment.

Cal summoned all the courage he could muster before opening the bathroom door and returning to this strange environment. The three attendants were patiently waiting for him, and Bireen came over immediately to assist him. Cal noticed that the two young women (Dawna and Aprell) were wearing the same silky uniform as Bireen and identical to the one he had found waiting for him in the restroom after his shower.

There was also something new added to the room as he now paid particular attention to an eating area similar to a booth. This roomy booth had evidently been summoned to emerge some four feet out from the wall several feet from the bed.

Bireen helped him traverse the distance from the restroom to the booth while Dawna and Aprell observed. Seated in the roomy booth, Cal found a steaming hot bowl of soup, a cold drink and a generous supply of very thin crackers. Suddenly, he realized that he was starving, and as the three watched, ate hungrily - - - and again, very gratefully!

Dawna and Aprell removed the empty soup bowl and glass, then assisted Cal back to the bed and as the door of his room slid open, went out with Bireen.

Now he was left alone once more to wonder whether this was some sort of a crazy dream or if possibly he had lost his mind, as well as his memory. Whatever this was all about, somehow he was not afraid - - - only puzzled!

After eating, Cal had drifted off to sleep, still very tired from a traumatic experience. He was awakened by the faint sound of the door opening. As she entered, he gave her his full attention.

This was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. As she walked toward him, he was stunned by her graceful elegance. This lovely creature was about five foot nine, almost as tall as he, and she had a beautiful cream-olive skin tone. She was wearing a silky blue/green uniform with no insignia that fit her body like a glove, showing lovely and graceful curves from slim ankles to a long creamy neck.

She was slim with very pretty facial features, a small pug-like nose and brilliant dark brown eyes. Her hair set her apart from anyone else he had ever seen. It fell to just below her shoulders in golden fine strands. The slightly wider forehead and very small ears gave her a sensuous look that made his breath come in short spurts.

Now that she was standing beside his bed, he could see that this lovely golden-haired beauty had six slender fingers on each hand just like his three attendants Her baby fine hair looked like gold dust, and when he stared up into those stunningly dark brown eyes he knew for the first time in his life, he was hopelessly in love!

Staring at her in wide-eyed admiration, Cal was totally surprised when she said, "My name is Seera. Can you understand me?" "Yes, I can," Cal replied, thinking that her voice was like hearing a beautiful song.

She repeated, "My name is Seera, but I cannot understand your words. You must communicate to me through your mind." Cal then realized that while he actually heard her, those red sensuous lips did not move, and he heard her with his mind, and not his ears.

For a few minutes, he simply looked into those bright brown eyes and almost became dizzy. Then he said, "Seera, I don't know how to speak to you with my mind. I only know how to talk with my mouth."

Seera reached out a hand and put her slender fingers on his shoulder. She seemed disappointed as she asked, "Do you have any method to indicate whether or not you understand my communication to you?" Cal nodded a yes while still transfixed on her beguiling eyes.

"Does this - - - while nodding her head - - - indicate that you do understand me?" she asked. Again Cal nodded yes, and she gave him a big bright smile showing pearl white teeth. He returned her smile with one of his own, happy that he pleased her. He also hoped it would not be the last one he saw from Seera. That beautiful smile took his breath away!

Seera said seriously to Cal, "I apologize because I do not know what to call you. I will inform you concerning your situation here, and then you need to rest. In the morning, the three attendants that were here earlier will return to care for you. The young man you saw first is named Bireen, and he will assist you until your leg and ankle are restored. Aprell and Dawna are the two young women who will look after your medical needs. These three are very well trained and you can be assured, very trustworthy."

She continued to explain, "This module is a medical emergency treatment facility. It is climate controlled for your comfort. If you look very, very closely, you can see almost microscopic lights in the walls. This is the way we control the equipment and the accessories necessary at any given time. All of the equipment is controlled by mind and eye contact as it is needed. We will leave the room in this configuration, so you may have use of the restroom and eating area as they are now."

Cal heard most of what Seera told him, but he could not take his eyes off her golden fine hair and brilliant brown eyes. She continued to tell him about the facilities, but he was mesmerized by her beauty. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher even though she was apparently only about twenty or maybe twenty-one.

Cal decided to try to understand her explanations of the treatment facility to him, so he attempted to take his mind off her and pay attention. As near as he could conclude, all of the equipment was controlled with a command telepathically from the mind to the equipment itself. He noticed that nothing in the room contained any buttons or switches - - - only those microscopic lights that Seera told him about.

Seera gazed at a spot above Cal's bed for a few seconds and a round black object appeared overhead, descending slowly but steadily downward. It was approximately the size of a basketball and had no physical means of support. This strange round object floated down like a helium balloon losing its ability to stay aloft.

When it stopped just above Cal's head, he found himself staring again in wide-eyed amazement at something else he didn't understand. This black ball contained many microscopic lights of many colors running rapidly around the circumference. This time he was more than a little concerned. He was scared!

Seera, watching his reaction closely, told him, "Do not be frightened. This is only an entertainment devise used by our people when convalescing. I do not believe that you have the ability to operate it, but I will attempt to instruct you."

"As with the other equipment," she instructed, "it is activated by mind control. You must focus your thoughts to the frontal lobes of your mind and then project them outward. You can speak to me in this manner or operate this devise."

"I am going to leave you in a few minutes. When you are alone this evening, I want you to concentrate very intensely on focusing your thoughts into this Black Orb. Through it you can relive any previous experiences or memories. With extreme effort, you may create new experiences if you desire."

Seera could see the concern on Cal's face in an expression revealed by a deep frown when she said she was leaving. She tried to reassure him, "In the morning, Dawna, Aprell and Bireen will return to assist you. After your morning meal, I will be back to continue attempted communication with you."

At that time, she took his hand in hers and gave him a light squeeze to make sure he understood. Relief spread across his face and then she gave him another one of those electric smiles.

All too quickly, she crossed the room and exited as the door slid open from her telepathic command. The sight of this beautiful and magnificent alien creature was spellbinding on Cal. He watched her graceful fluid movement until she was gone.

Now Cal lay in bed staring up at the suspended Black Orb with its spinning lights and thinking of Seera. In his mind's eye, he could still see her walking out of his room. Her long shapely legs and the golden hair swaying as she took long legged strides through the open doorway were firmly ingrained in his consciousness. He smiled at the thought of her return.

How could he tell her how he felt about her if she couldn't understand him? He didn't want her to think he was an idiot, but transferring thoughts from his mind to hers seemed impossible. As far as this Black Orb was concerned - - - well, he just didn't want to think about that at all.

Cal didn't come to a conscious decision, but he continued to look at the Black Orb hanging in mid-air right above his head. The tiny lights kept running around the circumference and began to have a hypnotic effect on his mind. These lights were of many colors and continuously circled the basketball-sized sphere in different directions and at different speeds.

After an indeterminate time, Cal began to drift off, either to sleep or into a trance of some sort. Suddenly, an old memory flashed to life in his mind. His mother was calling to him to come inside - -- "Cal, it's time to come in!"

His eyes flew open wide, and he immediately knew who he was, -Cal York! - - - "but what am I doing here?"

This was not a mere memory, but it was more like reliving something from the past. He actually heard his mother calling and saw her open the screen door of their home in West Virginia when he was twelve years old.

"It must be the Black Orb, Cal thought. "I've never had a memory or a dream as vivid as that one." Now he remarked out in an audible voice, "If I'm to find out how I got here, I'll have to try using the "Orb."

Cal concentrated on the "Orb," and its spinning lights, trying as best as he could to focus his thoughts to the front of his mind. As he watched the tiny lights go around and around, his thoughts stayed the same - - - a question - - - "Why am I here?"

Suddenly, he was back inside the Trackmaster and looked over at the driver - - - Allen! His best friend, Allen, was in a panic. Allen was screaming at the top of his lungs, "JUMP! GET OUT FAST!" Cal unsnapped the seatbelt - - - grabbed the door, and as he was leaping out, felt, rather than heard a loud boom, "CRACK!" "SIZZLE!" And he fell in agony onto the bay trail.

He watched the Trackmaster, the track blown off the left side and veering in a crazy arc toward the bay, and Allen struggling to get his door open. A large black burn mark scarred the door and had welded it shut.

As the Trackmaster careened out onto the bay, a flash erupted from the silver vehicle - - - "CRACK!" BOOM! "SIZZLE" right in front of the disabled Trackmaster, opening a large hole in the ice. Less than a heartbeat later, Allen and the doomed vehicle plunged into the burned out hole and disappeared in a flowering gush of water and was gone.

Cal sat in stunned silence on the bay trail unbelieving of what he just witnessed. When he tried to get up to run after his unlucky partner, he fell back in excruciating pain. Looking down at his left leg, he saw that he was badly burned from the knee down, and very apparently, his left ankle was broken.

As he again found himself lying in bed with his eyes glued on the Black Orb right above his head, Cal was surprised to find himself screaming very loudly, "ALLEN."

"Oh, my God!" Cal said aloud. "Allen's dead!" Although this was just a memory, Cal relived those events just as surely as though they had just occurred!

Now depressed and saddened by the realization that his best friend was gone, Cal closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep in total exhaustion.