Chapter 2: The Cavalry Arrives

Caleb Connor felt his anger continue to build as he stalked towards the helicopter that was landing closest to him. Men in odd looking hazmat suits started piling out of the helicopter, some with instruments, and some with guns.

"What the hell are you guys doing," he yelled at the nearest man that happened to have a rifle. "Look what you did to my truck!" Caleb continued gesturing wildly towards the slag heap that he used to be so proud of. "Who's going to pay for that?" he demanded.

"On the ground, now, with your hands behind your head," a muffled voice demanded.

Another hazmat-clothed figure moved near Caleb. It was smaller figure, with an instrument in its hands, and it started waving a wand at him.

"Not now, Janis," another muffled voice commanded, and the person with the wand moved away, still waving the wand at everything that wasn't native to the desert.

Something hit Caleb in the fold of his knees causing his knees to buckle, and he dropped to his knees on the sharp desert rocks. The pain of his lacerated knees sharpened Caleb's anger.

"What are you doing," Caleb yelled, growing even angrier as he tried to get to his feet.

Then he froze as he felt a gun muzzle against his head, and another against the back of his neck. The anger was still there, but it was on a very short leash that Caleb remembered from his years in combat. Very slowly, he settled his knees back into the sharp rocks, ignoring the pain. Now, he used the pain to force the crystal clear situational awareness necessary to survive life or death encounters.

After a wince, he asked, a lot more calmly, "Just stay calm boys. My knees are on some sharp rocks. I've already been hammered enough today, so I would like to move off the rocks. Any chance of that?"

There was silence for a moment. Silence, except for the still burning debris snapping, and the crackling of burning brush, and the helicopter motors, and orders being yelled around other parts of the flats.

But there was silence around Caleb until that muffled commanding voice said, "Move him over to that clear sandy area. I will talk to him later."

Two big men grabbed Caleb's arms and 'moved' him to the designated sandy area. Caleb wasn't a small man, but he wasn't allowed to walk. They had been ordered to move him, and that is what they did. He was deposited on his knees in the sandy area, and one rifle barrel was again pressed against his head and the other against the back of his neck. Well, they hadn't been ordered not to point guns at him.

"Cross your ankles," one of his captors ordered.

Caleb decided to comply. The position wasn't comfortable to his sore ankle, but he didn't think irritating guys that were pointing rifles at him was a good idea.

The man that Caleb thought had been giving orders was standing about thirty feet away, with a little group of figures clustered around him. He seemed to be giving more orders because every few moments one of the figures would rush off on some errand, and another would join his group, returning with information.

Caleb's legs were starting to cramp, when the figure giving orders looked in his direction again. Command guy seemed to be considering what to do about Caleb, and sent one of the hazmat cloaked figures rushing to Caleb's side. Not a word was said as the figure grabbed one of his arms and pulled it straight. An alcohol swab cleaned an area of his arm. Doctor guy looked at all the dirt that had come off, and how much was still smeared on his arm, and then pulled out two more swabs. The figure was satisfied there was a clean area after the third swab, and poked Caleb with a needle to draw some blood. A couple of vials were drawn, but a drop of blood was put on a strip and pushed into a little meter, somewhat like a diabetic field testing device.

Command guy had approached during the blood drawing, and Caleb hadn't even noticed. It startled Caleb, because his situational awareness should have warned him of Command guy's approach.

"Well?" Command guy barked, looking down at the small figure that drew the blood.

"He is human, sir," a female voice said.

Caleb was shocked at the sound of a female voice. He had just placed the small figure in a slot in his mind called Doctor guy. He mentally fumbled with the adjustment. He wondered why his mind felt so unwieldy, and it took a moment for the sense of the small figure's words to hit him.

"What, "Caleb demanded angrily, "are you talking about? Of course I am human. Who the hell is responsible for this mess, and who is going to replace my truck?"

"Calm down, sir," the female voice said quietly.

"What is your name, and what are you doing here?" Command guy demanded in crisp, clipped tones.

Caleb was answering before he even thought about it. 'It must be ingrained habit from my years in the Army, ' Caleb thought as he answered.

"Caleb A. Connor, Sir," he snapped, starting calmly enough. "Geology is my hobby. I've been coming out to the Kofa Game Reserve to explore and study the geology of the area for over ten years. This is the first time those fools at the Yuma Proving Grounds have dropped anything on me. Who the hell is going to replace that truck? Not just pay for it: replace it! It took me two years to restore that damn truck!" he finished with a yell.

The rifle pressing against the back of his neck jabbed him at the outburst.

"Would you please tell these heroes to pull their rifles back? If they can't hit me from a foot away they need to go back to the range. I heard that today's Army can't hit shit with a rifle, but they don't have to try to push their bullets through me," he concluded sarcastically.

He thought he heard a strangled giggle from Doctor girl, but he could have been wrong.

Caleb was proud that he had started that answer so calmly, but was a little irritated that he wasn't able to finish calmly. One thing Caleb had learned in the Army Rangers was how to stay calm. 'Anger will kill you faster than a bullet' was a favorite saying of one of his trainers. Working as an investigator for DES had only reinforced that lesson.

The rifles pulled back, apparently with a gesture from Command guy. Caleb shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He still felt disoriented.

He took a deep breath and calmly said, "Look. I was up the canyon there," he said gesturing with one arm, and the muzzle of the rifle pressed against the back of his neck again. "Damn it, would you stop that?" he exploded. "I really don't like having weapons pointed at me," he growled, glaring over his shoulder at the faceless figure behind him.

An impatient gesture from the Command person moved the soldier back a few steps.

"Thanks," Caleb said, turning back to Command guy and relaxing a little. "I come out here when I can get a long weekend," he started. "This is ... was ... one of my favorite camping spots," he continued gesturing around his former camp. "My pick up, my tent with sleeping bag inside," he said pointing to the slag heap and a melted pile of nylon.

There really wasn't much left of his camp, and he just shook his head in disgust, while trying to clear some of the wooziness from his mind.

"Anyway, there is an interesting rock wall about a mile up that canyon that lets you look back over 150,000 years. I try to work on it whenever I can. I have been up there since about 6:30 this morning. Earth's geological history is interesting to me. I was on my way back to camp when I was knocked down, singed pretty good, and all my gear was destroyed."

"Do you have any proof of this story, Mr. Connor?" Command guy asked in his precise, clipped tone.