Crusade of the Director

1996, July 18th.

3:30am.

The soldiers stood at the ready, barrels aimed towards the deep black mass that undulated midair. Men in white coats stood nervously behind them as they jotted down on clipboards and notebooks, they all seemed like they haven been able to sleep in days and it seems hygiene became a footnote as they stood at the near peak of the mountains in a small clearing with tall spruce and oak surrounding it. In the center was gadgets and monitors, tall lights that tried to pierce the undulating mass to no avail, cold half emptied coffee mugs, half eaten snacks mixed with notes and theories in sloppy organization on tables and chairs. The black mass of God knows what did not make a sound, it did not have a smell, it was almost as if it was not there at all, and this made the men more nervous.

It came around 12:00am in an unknown way, and it hasn done anything since. They wouldn have even discovered it if not for a hiker that came across it on his way back to camp, and for national interest he was taken care of after… Another hour went by and still nothing, this caused the soldiers to slowly drop their guard and not give full attention to their cause of being there. The men