calls from people out there every night."
"Flying lights?" Hunter asked. "Like in 'UFOs?' "
"I guess," Fitzgerald said, refilling his glass. "The people who see 'em, claim they are different colors. Floating. Way up in the sky. Hundreds of them. Coming in from the northeast and heading southwest. They make no noise."
"Have you check them out?" Dozer asked.
"Sure have," Fitzgerald said. "Scrambled jets eight nights in a row, we did.
They fourid nothing. And believe me, it's an expensive proposition, to fly four jets out to the Lakes and back for no good reason."
"How about radar?" Hunter asked.
"We haven't seen them," Fitzgerald replied. "We sent a portable unit out there finally. Those guys sat on the edge of Lake Erie for three days and nights, freezing their asses off. No lights. No nothing. We 35
finally called them back in and the very next night, we get two hundred reports that the sky is filled with them."
"Whew, boy!" Dozer said. "This gets creepier by the minute."
"Well boys," St. Louie drawled. "You ain't heard nothing yet. I got a story that will beat any of yours."
The ruddy faced Texan pushed his empty plate aside and took a stiff belt from his whiskey glass. Then he began his story:
"A few weeks back, one of our long range patrols went out on an extended mission. These patrols are our eyes and ears on the western edge of our territory, which, as you know, borders the southern Badlands.
"These guys are the toughest, meanest bunch of troopers you'd ever want to meet. Well, forty-two guys went out. Only one came back. And he'll be in the loony bin for the rest of his life."
"Jesus Christ," Hunter said. "What the hell happened?"
St. Louie paused, then said: "We don't know exactly. We talked to the one survivor, but believe me, he's gone around the deep end and he ain't coming back.
"But this is what he said —or mumbled — about what happened:
"They were on the fourth night of a twenty-one-day mission. Now according to their orders, they could skirt the 'Bads, but if they actually went in, they had to maintain radio silence, as part of their training.
"Anyway, they did go into the Badlands. That 36
much we know. Apparently on that fourth night, someone —or something —crawled into their camp and stole all their food and water."
"Weren't there any sentries?" Dozer asked.
"Oh yeah," St. Louie answered. "They found them, six of them, cut up terrible.
Butchered. Now remember, these recon guys are the highest trained force we have. But still someone greased six of them very quietly, then came in and stole the food.
"So now my guys are hopping mad. They start to track whatever it was. Soon they're more than a hundred miles inside the 'Bads, which has got to be the furthest anyone civilized had gone in before.
"Well, they get in there —and the survivor said it was like being on another planet, no trees, nothing growing, poison everywhere. Fog covering everything.
Very, very strange.
"And in the middle of all this, what the hell do they find? A nuke station!
And the Goddamn thing is working!"
"What?!" Hunter couldn't believe it. "That's got to be impossible . . ."
"That's what / said," St. Louie replied. "But, I'm telling you, this guy swears it's true. They spot this place with three cooling towers. Steam coming out of them and lights blazing all over the plant.
"Anyway, at this point, it gets fuzzy. But, for whatever reason, they decide to head back home. They were three days into the return trip when they were walking in a ravine. It was around midnight, as by this time they were sleeping during the day and moving at night.
"So they were in this ravine, when all of a sudden, 37
the guy said they heard this tremendous noise. Like thunder. They turned around and . . . and it gets really strange here, boys . . . they see thousands of guys coming at them. On horseback! Screaming, terrible. At full charge.
"They came up on my guys so fast, they couldn't get to defensive positions.
They