Aquifer: A Novel (40 page)

As he surveyed his surroundings, he subconsciously began to play with the tiny infant ring dangling from the gold chain around his neck. He twirled it through his fingers as he quickly lost himself in thought trying to solve the alien problem. But, as had happened on so many previous occasions when he was searching for answers to critical problems, his thoughts began to focus upon the tiny ring.

Why did my mother give me this ring?
he wondered as he grasped the ring, turning it over in his fingers.

Clayton removed the chain by pulling it over his head. He grasped the ring between his thumb and right index finger and held it up to eye level. For what seemed like the one millionth time, he again read the inscription on its interior, “Hope Never Fails.” Following the inscription was a curious symbol “=/\=”. What did it mean? Surely it must be a riddle he was to solve, but there were no other clues. His mother had sent it along with him when she gave him up for adoption, with no explanation for its meaning. Why? What was she trying to tell him?

Many times throughout his life Clayton had pondered the meaning of this symbol and had come up with numerous possibilities, though after much consideration none of them had proved plausible. Obviously it must have meant something to his mother, something special and important or she wouldn’t have placed the symbol here. But what? What was the puzzle it was supposed to solve?

Then, as always, the other question popped into his mind – the question that was most prominent and most frequent; the one question that had haunted him relentlessly, but for which there had never been any answer,
“Why did she give me up for adoption? Why didn’t she keep me, raise me, and love me?”

Instinctively, or at least logically, Clayton realized long ago that his mother must have loved him or she wouldn’t have given him this ring in the first place.

Obviously she could have aborted him, but she hadn’t. Valoura had loved him enough to carry him to full term, granting him life. But if she loved him that much then why did she do what she did?

For over fifty years Clayton had pondered these questions, but was no closer now to resolving them than he was when he began. He brought his right knee up to join the left one and clasped both arms about his bent legs. He closed his eyes and softly sighed very deeply while lowering his head. He gently bounced it several times upon his knees. Softly he spoke to himself,
“
Valoura! Valoura! Where are you? Who are you? Why did you do it? Why? Why? Why?
”

Clayton raised his head and took a deep cleansing breath. While exhaling slowly through his pursed lips, he opened his eyes then released his grasp from around his legs and stretched them out straight again. He then raised the ring and again read the inscription, “Hope Never Fails.”
Why did she word it that way instead of the way it is written in the Bible
, “Charity never faileth?” Again he read the inscription and repeated it silently over and over in his mind several times.

Then suddenly the word leapt out at him, “Hope!” And he was jolted back to the present and the events of the past few days.

Painfully he remembered discovering Ellie Jo covered with amphibian eggs; Susan being yanked out of her inner tube by something underwater; Larry and the mutant frog; the garden tree stump explosion; the frog toe clippings; and the aliens currently threatening the people living around Eminence. If ever there was a time he needed
hope
it was now.

Then slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, an idea began to formulate in his mind. Then, taking shape like a lumbering freight train gathering speed, the ideas began to come faster and faster. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that before! Clayton’s facial expression began to register the ideas that were now rushing into his mind faster than he could absorb them. He smiled and feverishly began to write notes on a small tablet of paper he took from his breast pocket.

*

At that moment a man in military uniform strode into Sheriff Aker’s office. He walked up to the Sheriff and stiffly introduced himself.

“I am Major Richard Reid from Ft. Leonard Wood,” he said with great solemnity. “I understand that you reported having problems with some . . . alien life forms?” he said rather sarcastically. He then forcefully clarified his intended message while smirking rather condescendingly. “I believe that you mean . . .
alligators
.”

=/\=

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
WO

Jack’s Fork River

Numerous private cabins and several motels lined the north shoreline of the Jack’s Fork River at the edge of the Eminence city limits. Crossing the bridge into the newer section gave the striking impression of traveling through time from the depression to the current era. Most all of the city’s new growth had occurred during the previous ten years. In fact, prior to that, if a person didn’t live in Eminence, or have family there, they would probably never have heard of the town. It was an unimportant and obscure little town in the middle of the most poverty-stricken county in the state - and though it was the County Seat, Eminence was the most poverty-stricken city in the county, with a median annual per capita income of barely $17,000.

When asked what people in Eminence did for a living, the head of the Chamber of Commerce replied; “Well, there’s really only three ways to make a living in this town. You can be on welfare year-round; you can work in the tourist trade, in which case you’re on welfare for eight months of the year; or you can work for the government, in which case you’re really on permanent welfare because your money comes from the taxpayers and you don’t produce anything to earn it.”

Even with the recent tourist explosion, Eminence remained an unknown entity, about as obscure as it had ever been and certain to remain so ever after. The Chamber of Commerce had labored diligently to bring new business to the town, even developing a website,
www.eminencemo.com
. They hoped that the website would spur interest in their town and designed it to promote the tourist trade. They highlighted many of the local attractions such as the annual trail ride, boasted to be the largest in the nation; the wonderful country-cooked food sumptuously served at a variety of Ozark-themed restaurants; the great fiddlin’ and bluegrass music played at the annual festival; boating, fishing, swimming, camping, golfing, antique and craft shops and the town’s new slogan,
Take A Step Back In Time To Where The Hills And The Rivers Meet
. The council wanted to promote Eminence’s image as a quaint, old-fashioned small town dubbed “Missouri’s Top Outdoor Outpost.” Though this promotion had resulted in dramatically increased tourism, the total net effect upon the local economy was still quite negligible. Eminence, it seemed, would never be classified as a booming tourist resort like Branson, an hour-and-a-half to the west.

Not everyone in town was pleased with the growth in the tourist business, though. The noise and congestion the tourists brought to their community was more than some of the old-timers could stand, though they obviously did not really know the meaning of
congestion
. To the tourists who flocked there, Eminence seemed like a sleepy little town. They were glad to be there – away from the congestion of the big cities from which they had fled. Fortunately for the town’s citizens, the tourists remained mostly along the river and along the first few blocks of Main Street.

Unfortunately, the price of real estate had skyrocketed since tourists discovered the town. Homes that used to sell for $18,000 to $20,000 now went for as much as $50,000. Most of the townspeople couldn’t imagine paying that much for a home. They thought it was a downright waste of good money to spend that much for a place to sleep and eat. To them the tourists had more money than brains and were quick to flaunt the abundance of the former and the lack of the latter.

The long hot August days stretched through the peak of the short tourist season and the town, it seemed, was currently overrun by tourists. Truth be known, less than one or two hundred tourists were ever in town at the same time. Though that seemed like a tremendous number to the town’s citizens, Eminence really was one of the best kept secrets in the family oriented tourist industry.

*

The Henshaws, an out-of-state family, checked into the River’s Edge Inn, one of the new motels built on the north shore of the Jack’s Fork River, just across the bridge from the main part of town. The family was settling into their third floor room about an hour before sundown. The husband, George, his wife, Thelma, and their three children, Billy age eight, Sally age nine and Jason age fourteen, were holding a family meeting to discuss their options and to express their frustration at the “no swimming” sign the Sheriff had just posted.

“I didn't drive fifteen hundred miles to be locked up in a motel room in Podunkville!” exclaimed George.

“But the Sheriff posted the river ‘Off Limits,’” explained Thelma trying to calm him down.

“How can he place an entire river ‘Off Limits’ in a resort town?” protested George.

“He didn't say why, he just did it.”

“So what's he going to do, shoot me?” George said sarcastically.

“Yeah, Mom, lighten up! We're here to have fun,” added Jason.

“And we brought the Alders with us,” George said, trying to reinforce his argument by referring to Thelma’s brother and his family whom they had brought with them. “This is their first trip here, so what are Wayne and his family thinking? I say the last one in the water does the dishes for a week,” he announced as he charged out of the room.

“Alright!” cried the children as they all raced out the door leaving Thelma gaping after them.

She stood there, concerned, and dumbfoundedly called after them. “George! . . . George!”

George and his children disregarded Thelma’s urging and continued racing down the open air hallway of the third floor of the motel, headed for the stairs.

As they raced past their cousins’ room, Jason yelled to his father, “I'll get the Alders.” He banged on their door, opened it and yelled inside. “We're going swimming; come on, my Dad said it’s ok.”

The Alder family came bounding out of the motel room and joined George and his children running down the stairs. As they approached the shoreline there was a sign posted:

– S
HORELINE
C
LOSED
–

BY
ORDER
OF
THE
S
HERIFF

N
O
ONE
ALLOWED
WITHIN

100
FEET
OF
THE
WATER
.

George was the first to reach the sign. As he ran past it he threw his towel over it, blocking its message from the others. They all ran into the water, started splashing each other, laughing and having a good time.

After a few minutes of splashing each other, Jason shouted to his nine-year-old sister, “Sally, Look out! There’s a cotton mouth water moccasin behind you!”

Immediately Sally ran from the river screaming, quickly followed by the other children who were screaming also.

*

A half-mile downstream several adult aliens were herding a school of shad in a deep pool at the base of a cliff. Working together as a team they forced the shad into a tight-knit group and then took turns gorging on the tiny fish by swimming through the surrounded school with their jaws open wide. The splashing and screaming of the children upstream suddenly caught their attention and the aliens abandoned the school of shad for larger prey.

*

Jason stood in waist deep water reeling with laughter as the last of the screaming children ran from the river. Mocking his younger sister, Jason pointed to a stick lazily floating downstream, and laughingly apologized, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t a snake, just a long black stick.”

Jason’s siblings and cousins protested his prank, but their fathers paid them no heed. The men were standing on the shore deep into bragging about their new fishing lures and debating the relative prowess of poppers versus flatfish while wagering on who would land the biggest Largemouth Bass first thing in the morning.

After several minutes the children timidly returned to the water to continue their fun and soon forgot the harmless prank. They jubilantly took turns sharing inner-tubes, air mattresses, snorkels and goggles.

A few minutes later Jason again yelled, “Sally! There’s a water moccasin!”

For the second time Sally and her cousins screamed and ran from the water. Jason, still in the water, laughed at his siblings and cousins. But his prank caught his father’s attention.

“Jason! That’s enough,” rebuked George sternly. “Don’t tease the younger children.”

“I’m just having a little fun,” Jason said defensively.

“You heard me, Jason!”

“Yes, Sir,” the boy responded in somewhat feigned obedient submission.

Sally and the other children felt vindicated and proudly marched back into the river. As Sally passed Jason she defiantly stuck out her tongue at him.