* * * * *
I don't how long we drove. But, I do know where we went: westward, along Victory Boulevard, as far as the Los Angeles River bed. Because, when my head got fully reoriented, I saw that the Silverado had pulled into a storm drain outlet. You know; one of those big ones immortalized in the climactic battle scene from the 1954 sci-fi classic, THEM!
Anyway, my rescuers had pulled far enough inside it that they had to activate the Silverado's roof-mounted spotlights. Whereupon, I saw them clearly for the first time. Two Caucasians and a Latino; each one wearing a black beret, with matching leather jacket, slacks, and combat boots. Each one in their late fifties or early sixties. And, with the Latino wearing an eye patch over his right eye.
[Holy Nick Fury, Batman!]
The apparent leader of the group knelt down in front of me and held up his right hand. Folding his thumb and pinky over each other behind the palm.
"How many fingers do you see?"
"Well, unless you're flipping me the bird while I'm seeing triple...,"
He lowered his hand and grinned.
"You'll live. But, where are my manners? The name is Barker, Mr. Northfield. Maynard Barker. Colonel, U.S. Army Special Forces (retired). You probably don't remember me..."
"As in 'Mad Dog' Barker?" I exclaimed: "Leader of Barker's Dozen?"
His grin reappeared as he nodded.
"Barker's Dozen" had been the nickname coined by my journalistic mentor, "Buck" Fogarty, for the Green Beret A-team led by this guy all through the Vietnam War. Indeed, it was rumored that Stephen J. Cannell had loosely based his TV show, THE A-TEAM, on the real-life exploits of that detachment!
"Allow me to introduce my former top-kick," Barker now added: "Ramon Rodriguez."
"Mucho gusto," said the one-eyed Latino (with a hint of Cuban accent).
"And, the burly guy with the bazooka," continued Barker: "...is Rupert 'Monk' Gibbons. The finest heavy weapons expert I ever worked with."
Gibbons countered by introducing the bazooka.
"This is Bertha. British army-surplus from Hong Kong."
"Pleased to meet you all," I replied (with complete sincerity): "At the risk of sounding ungrateful, however? WHAT THE FRIG HAPPENED, BACK THERE???!"
Barker sighed.
"It's kind of a long story. And, I won't blame you if you don't initially believe it. All I ask, though, is that you hear me out before voicing your reaction. Fair enough?"
I gestured for him to go ahead.
"Last Memorial Day, at a reunion of the Dozen at Arlington National Cemetery, I was approached by someone I had only met, once before. Titus 'Tight Ass' Armitage. The troop transport pilot who had ferried us home from Nam, in '74, aboard his Lockheed Hercules."
"He confided to me that he had spent the rest of the Cold War flying spy planes for the Company. But, that--following the end of it--he was recruited by NASA for a top-secret project. Code-name: Silenus."
"Evidently, this project had called for him and four other astronaut-candidates to be injected with a special drug made from genetically engineered mushrooms. A drug that was supposed to help each of them tap the other ninety percent of the human mind! Yet, for one reason or another, it was one of the other four who was deemed best suited for Phase II of the project. With Tight Ass and the other three being let go."
"When I asked him why he was telling me this (in clear violation of the non-disclosure agreements I was positive he would've been compelled to sign), he replied that he had been having strange dreams, recently. Dreams involving one of my former teammates! More specifically; my former executive officer, Reggie Saito."
That caused me to arch an eyebrow.
"As in, Captain Saito; head of the Junior ROTC unit at Cahuenga High?"
Barker grimly nodded before resuming.
"Tight Ass went on to describe the exact nature of the dream. An image of Saito, stripped down to his boxer shorts, giving what I can only describe as erotic foot massages to a bunch of giantesses. Giantesses clad just like those majorettes you were talking to as we drove up!"
He held up his right hand, again, to stop a second instinctive interruption.
"I know what you're going to say. And, believe me, I was just as skeptical, when he first told me that, as you are, right now. So, he offered me proof."
" 'Call Saito, himself, and ask him if he recently saw any UFO's. Then, tell him about me. If nothing happens to you, or the rest of your old teammates, within a week of that phone call, you'll know that I was just being a crackpot.' "
"Don't ask me why. But, I felt compelled to follow his advice. And, sure enough; Saito laughed it off. Yet, somehow, his laughter sounded forced to me!"
"A week later, I was contacted by Ramrod, here."
At the mention of his nickname, the Cuban mournfully looked at the ground.
"It seems that, while driving home from a church bingo game in the Little Havana section of Miami, his wife and son experienced engine failure. And, while conversing with him over the cellphone, they suddenly started yelling about a giantess approaching the car! A giantess wearing a mini-skirted version of a military uniform."
"Then, the line went dead."
tbc
Giantess World
