TERROR IN THE DESERT
A Short Story
especially written for Jersey Shore
Ultralights
By Willie
Makitt
Since I've never been to the East Coast, I'm not too familiar
with what your local terrain is like. Out here in SoCal, the landscape is flat and open,
especially around Perris where I'm situated. Anyway, let me tell you "Jersey
Boys" about an incident that happened out here a few years ago. A lot of guys
that I know flew Quicksilvers, partly because the factory was nearby and mostly because
they were so plentiful. Darn good flying machine I might add. One evening just before dusk,
three of us were flying together out over the desert. I had my Sprint. Brad, a surfer
type and my wife's ex-boyfriend had his GT-400, and Stuart, who was a co-worker of mine at
the hot tub factory had his MXL. The air was smooth and the scenery spectacular as usual.
Off in the distance we could see the mountains. Brad called over on the radio.
"Dude, lets drop down to the deck on the way in."
"Wow, sounds like totally awesome man," said Stuart who was off my left
wing. The three of us dropped down to the point where we were skimming the flat desert
floor. Every once in a while we surprised a coyote and sent it running off. About 30 min.
worth of light remained, but Perris was only about 5 miles away so we thought we were ok.
"Dude, check this out!"
Stu did a couple of touch and goes on the flatness which stretched out miles ahead of
us. A poof of dust erupted as his wheels touched.
"Watch out man, you hit some brush and you might go in," I cautioned.
"Eee Haaaa!" came over my headphones as his Quick hit rather hard, bouncing
back into the air. Suddenly without warning, Stu's engine just sputtered and quit. Stu was
so low, he just landed, making one more bounce before sliding to a stop.
"Dude, you ok?"
"Yeah, I think my fuel line popped off on that last bounce. Just like last time"
"Like totally bad scene man", said Brad.
"I'm like bummed out man".
As Brad and I circled above, I noticed something strange on the ground about 100 yards
from where Stu was diligently working to get his fuel line back on. A dark line was
forming, parting the scrub brush as it went. Even more strange was the fact that it
appeared to be pointing directly at the downed ultralight and worse yet, it was moving!
Very slow and relentlessly, but nonetheless moving directly towards Stu.
"Dude, what the hell is that down there?" came over my headphones from
Brad.
"Dunno, but I'm going down to get a better look."
"Stu, you got a copy man?"
No answer "He's out of the plane, man. Can't hear you."
"Larry, look now!" came an alarmed voice in my ear! As I dropped in
just above stall I could see that something very large appeared to be tunneling it's way
just beIow the surface, moving along at a steady pace. Pushing the throttle to the max, I
buzzed Stu to try to get his attention. Pulling up in a wide sweeping climbing turn I
looked back and saw him making an obscene gesture at me.
"He thinks you're messin' with him dude," said Brad.
"Damn! See if you can get his attention, man."
"Check!" Brad dropped down and did the same thing. I saw Stu lean back into
his plane. Coming on the radio, he said "Hey man, what the *&$#@'s the matter
with you guys, huh? You tryin' to be funny, man?"
"Stu, man, get your sorry ass airborne fast, man! Something's coming after ya, man,
on the desert floor, man!!"
"Huh? What the hell you sayin', man?"
"I said RUN! AS FAST AS YOU CAN! AWAY FROM YOUR PLANE, MAN!!!
"Can't copy ya, man. You're cutting out!" Brad and I watched helplessly as
the dark shape moved within a few yards of Stu who was back at work with his fueI line.
"I don't Iike this, dude!"
"Oh man, look!"
"STU! RUN IF YOU CAN HEAR ME!!" I
yelled down as I cut the engine and coasted in silence. I knew it was hopeless. My friend
was about to die and I couldn't do a thing more to save him.
The ground appeared to open up right behind Stu. As we both circled above, a huge dark
thing came up out of the ground, and with one motion, consumed the plane and
piIot before disappearing back into the tunnel from which it came. Stu hopefully never
knew what hit him.
"AGHHHH! Oh my God..Oh my God..What the hell was that, man?"
"I'm like sick, man."
"We got to get help!"
"Too late. Stu is like gone, man."
We both flew back to Perris in stunned silence. The CHP was notified, but after a long
search in the area where alI this happened, nothing was ever found, except a ripped piece
of orange sailcloth, the color of Stu's plane. I was like totally
devastated, and for awhile, I even stopped flying. Only recently have I gotten back into
ultralighting. I think that once it's in your blood, you never can totally walk away from
it. During the period that I was groundbound, I spoke with a number of people about what
happened out there in the desert that day including a professor from UCLA. His theory was
that large uranium deposits may have caused a growth mutation in life forms common to the
area whatever the hell that means. I don't know what to think about that, but recently on a trip back from Las Vegas, I ran into a
grizzled old timer named "One-eyed Pete" who had lived his entire life out in
the desert and had seen it all.
"Tubesnake," he said without batting his eye. "And a big 'un at
that, sonny."
"A tubesnake? What the hell is that?" said I.
Pete never had the chance to finish because he suddenly clutched his chest
and had a heart attack right there
in front of me, his eye bulging. Whatever he must have been thinking of at that moment was probably way
more than his old ticker could handle.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it believe it or not.
Has anybody out there in New Jersey ever heard of a Tubesnake? If so let Fred know.
© Copyright 2004 Outlaw Publications