The Incident at Pine Hills Mounds
Black-eyed kids and other shenanigans.
Roman Barton
Sheriff Roman Stanley Barton tipped Cassidy Watts and waved at her father, Collin. “See you next time, sheriff,” Marie Watts called out. “Hope you enjoyed it!”
“It was very good, as usual. Thank you all,” replied the sheriff. He carefully made his way down the stairs of the Clarkston Trough restaurant and walked slowly toward his police cruiser. He had a knee that had suddenly got sore on him, and he was attempting to be easy on it. He shook his head as he thought about how many times he had scoffed when his long gone father told him that a man’s body really starts going downhill after 50. The old man had been wrong about many things, but his observation about the human body was not one of them.
Roman drove around Clarkston’s square and turned left onto North Main Street. He took a right on Peace Street and then a left on Mackenson Boulevard, which paralleled the front side of Mackenson Institute. Once he got to the other side of the campus, the sheriff’s department headquarters was only one block away.
As Roman pulled into his reserved parking space, he was glad that he didn’t have to walk very far. He retrieved his soda and radio from the console, got out, and closed the door. With the push of a button, the vehicle locked itself, and the sheriff made his way indoors. He really didn’t feel like working today, but he felt obligated. People didn’t vote for him to lay out of work, they wanted someone who would be a sheriff. Still, he thought, the sheriff is getting older. There would come a time, not too far off, when he would retire—and he really didn’t mind the thought of it anymore.
Sheriff Barton passed by the alcove of Trinity Evans, the front-desk receptionist. She acknowledged the sheriff with a nod and then unlocked the remote door. “You get something good to eat?”
“Went to the Trough, it’s always good.” Roman was still thinking about retirement. Maybe he would take up a hobby when he retired. Maybe he’d start fishing. Or building birdhouses.
“Sounds good. I haven’t been over there in a long time,” Trinity replied. “Overall, your schedule for the evening requires you to be supervising from within the office. We did get one call from Mr. Theodore Lang. He should arrive in about 15 minutes.”
“Lang?”
“Yes sir. Wouldn’t say what he wanted.”
“He usually doesn’t leave Pine Hills. I haven’t seen him for a long time. Bring him to my office when he gets here.”
“Yes sir,” the young woman replied.
“Remember, Lang is a confirmed raconteur. If he starts talking he’ll have you laughing immediately. Don’t let him get started.”
Trinity laughed. “Yes sir.”
Sheriff Barton returned to his office, hung up his cowboy hat, and began to look over the roster. He noted and approved a vacation request. Finally he heard Theodore Lang’s voice and Trinity’s laughter. The old man hadn’t lost his touch: He was a master story-teller.
“Sheriff, Mr. Lang is here to see you along with…? I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Oh sorry,” said Jon. “I’m Jonty Huffman.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Huffman. Now I’ll get out of the way,” said Trinity. She left the office.
The sheriff shook Lang’s hand and Jon’s. “You any kin to the Huffman’s out by the Memphis Community?”
“Yes sir. Sam Huffman is my grandfather.”
“I know Sam Huffman. In fact I know a lot of your family. Went to school with some of them.” The sheriff turned his attention to Mr. Lang. “Theodore Lang. Long time no see. You look like you’re getting along well. What brings you here today?”
“It’s unbelievable, Roman, but it’s true, and it’s going to take a few minutes to explain.”
The sheriff was suddenly “strictly business.” He pointed to some comfortable looking chairs and said, “Have a seat.”
Theodore told the sheriff everything that he knew, from his initial encounter with Jane Blackmon to the final encounter when she was firing at the drone. They were using a drone, he noted, because the pasture was too wet to drive through. The drone belonged to Jon’s nephew, Jesse Mendez.
Mr. Lang explained how Jane had been concerned over missing livestock, and how they had originally planned to visit the sheriff together. He went into detail about how Jon had discovered what might be a native burial ground. He talked about the artifacts found at the site, and the lance-like weapons that were located. Finally, he told the sheriff that Jesse’s drone had taken a large number of pictures, and these had been copy-pasted into the laptop that was lying beside Jon.
“This last part,” said Lang, “is what’s really going to get your attention.” He opened a series of pictures on the computer. “Take a look.”
Roman Barton looked. And looked again. He shook his head. “I had a hard time believing you about the artifacts. Actually didn’t believe you, until you showed me this. What you’re showing me here is a science fiction movie. Unbelievable.”
The three men looked at the images. There were pictures of four people. That wasn’t strange, but the people seemed to be interacting with two weird-looking humanoid figures. The latter were very slim, and ash gray in color. Human-like but definitely not human. They had long arms and legs, with long fingers. Their heads were half as large as their torsos, and those large heads had giant eyes that were black in color. Because the pictures weren’t high quality, no visible nose or mouth could be seen.
Sheriff Barton leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. “This is bad, gentleman. Not only is Ms. Blackmon out there, but earlier this morning we were made aware that Elisa Decker, Esmeralda Olson, and Grace Howard are missing. I was about to send two units out there, but now my hands are tied. The three other people in these pictures are the missing teen girls. As for those other things, surely you’ve noticed that they look like what the ‘UFO’ people call gray aliens. The county is not equipped to deal with anything like this...but I know someone who is.”
The sheriff pushed a button and Trinity answered immediately. “Yes, sheriff?”
“Trinity, call Robert Williamson and see if he can be here in the next few minutes. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“Yes sir.”
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