We worked day and night on Cooperative Cigam. We could now dive down into that mystical place inside of us in an instant. We could immediately imagine ways to stop lair-beast attacks. Freck and I linked minds with ease allowing Gee to get strong clear images. We created. He made it happen.

The very best thing of all was our danger-sense was sharpenin'. See, the thing is, ever'one gets input from ever'where all the time. We are so used to it as humans, that we's unaware of it. Unless we hear a loud scream, or we see a burst of fire, or get a bleeding cut, we don't give it no never mind.

When we first opened the door ta danger-sense, we was overwhelmed with sumpin' unexpected, universal consciousness. We was inundated with input from ever'wheres. Five senses, hah! It was feedin' inta a hundred or more ways of gettin' information. It was like a flood surgin'. When I couldn't take it anymore I mind-yelled, Help Gee, I cain't get deal with this!"

"You both have to relax. Breathe slowly and go deep into your cigam place where you can observe the stream of consciousness without fear." Gee told us.

Freck asked, "Is this is the way it's goin' ta be all the time? If it is, you can just take it back."

Gee chuckled at that. "I am sorry kids. Once you open the door it cannot be shut again. What we must work on is filtering. Now that you are both in your cigam havens and observing the stream tell me what you see."

"What'cha mean?" I asked. "Ta me it's just a great big swirlin' mess."

"Wishes did you notice that the flow has different colors, textures, and shapes?"

Freck said, "I can see it. There's a soft yellow glow with green highlights, and over there is a spiky red ball."

"Your minds are seeing what the Knowledge Pool in the Palace experiences. It filters the input and allows only the new ideas to get through. The rest is flotsam—it lets drift by. You, however, will need to manage more than just new ideas. You are more complicated than the K.P. It has one task. You have many.

"The colors, shapes, and textures will help you hone in on what you need to know. As you mentally build filters, some you will keep open, some you will direct into long-term storage, and others you will dismiss."

"What do the colors and shapes mean Gee?" I probed.

"I cannot tell you. What you see, and what they mean to you, is uniquely yours. Freck's soft glow with green highlights is something probably very peaceful, but the spiky red ball could be her danger sense. Only Freck will know after she meditates about it. First, you see the information as it manifests. Second, you determine their meanings. And third, you construct your filters. Once you are able to do this you will know where to focus your attention, and how to get vital information."

For the next two days we watched our streams of consciousness. We observed the objects and began sorting them accordin' ta relevance. Freck and I didn't compare. It wouldn't do no darn good. What she saw and felt, was different from me. Some of 'em made sounds. For me, danger was in the form of a black blob with thunderin' lightnin' bursts. The closer it was ta me, the louder the thunder got. It was like the game taught ta kids. Count the seconds between booms. If'n the time between 'em was gettin' shorter, it meant the storm was closer. If it cracked right over yer head it was right on ya.

We didn't hafta do it all at once. Gee told us that observation and filterin' took a long time. There was an awful amount of sortin' ta do. He had us focus on what we needed right now. I was gettin' confident in my new abilities to generally recognize when sumpin' bad was comin'. But needed ta learn what it was, the degree of danger, which direction it was comin' from, and how quick ta scramble. I thought 'bout Momma zippin' 'round the forest in her flutterby. She had ta negotiate around trees and rocks while dodgin' predators. Without her perfected danger-sense she would'a crashed for sure. Freck and me was improvin', but still had a long ways ta go.

◽️◽️◽️

Then, we ran out of time.

◽️◽️◽️

The Kingdom's screamin' sirens split the air. It was their lairbeast warnin' system. Every Keeper was on alert.

Grandma Chrys broadcast a telepathic message ta ever'one. The sirens was for trouble Topside, not in the Kingdom. It was a general alert to all workin' on the Topside lairbeast problem, and those who might be needed. She warned us that the three was comin' close to escapin'. Keepers was asked (asked 'cuz no Keeper is ever ordered) ta leave immediately. The lairbeasts was a Keeper responsibility, not a human one.

We ran for the nearest 'vator. There was a dozen or so grim lookin' Keepers already inside. We zipped to the solvers dock to catch the next floater. The Solvers with Uncle Ren was real anxious waitin' for us. We was escorted lickety-split ta the front. Each floater could hold twenty-five, I guessed. How were they goin' ta shuttle thousands ta Topside? I looked over my shoulder and saw the answer. Other floaters was bein' hooked up ta things that looked like barges with seats. Gee said they were called Keeper carriers. Our floater didn't wait for a carrier. As soon as we bordered it took off. There was no doubt 'bout the urgency.

The floater overflew Burns. It landed right at the site, but behind some bushes and trees so it would't be seen. As soon as we was out, it sped back ta the Kingdom.

Wow, it looked like a Keeper army invaded the forest. Except for the earth shakin' poundin' noises, ever'one was quiet. They were all mind-speakin' instead. To any human happenin' on this place, they would think they was all deaf mutes.

From where we was standin' I could see what looked like I-beams taller than the surroundin' trees. They laid them down and used the indented sides as rails. Enormous transparent panels was hoisted up, and positioned between those rails. Gigantic green machines lifted and set those panels movin' 'em inta position. Once set, another even larger machine whacked at the panels ta push 'em way inta the ground. I would've been fascinated it warn't for the fear.

The problem they was tryin' ta fix was ta stop the creatures. With every new panel pounded in, them blood thirsty lair-beasts was diggin' ta get under and out. It was a wild race. It began to look as if the monsters was gainin'.

I got's ta say, them Keepers was not givin' up. They was countin' on endurance. How long could the lairbeasts keep it up? Or how soon would the panels reach bedrock? Either way if them panel plantin' stayed ahead, the beasts wouldn't get out.

That was the hope, but right now it didn't seem ta be happenin'. The fallback defense was armin' all Keepers with long barrel stunners. They were like cattle prods, I was told, but ya didn't hafta get close. They fired electrically charged slugs. No one believed that one shock would stop 'em, but what 'bout a thousand shocks? Keepers don't kill, but in an emergency it's okay to knock 'em out. This plan was untried, and very dangerous. If it didn't work, many hundreds of Keepers would die sickenin' deaths.

The third line of defense against the rampage was us. I was totally quakin' in my boots. If they got past us, God help our little town of Burns. We didn't know it, but there was a fourth line. The Burns folks was determined ta blast anythin' that got through.

It seems that Freck's daddy, and my daddy was not very successful in convincin' the mayor ta call off citizen's attack. They explained that an organized militia would be better than a bunch'a crazy eyed farmers runnin' around every which-a-way with shotguns. He promised ta consider it. Which in political talk means, get outta my way, I have more important matters ta attend ta. Not a very good sign.

While this was goin' on, the town bully, Butch Tiegs, and his trouble makin' friends, Red Stubbins, and Craig Roundy, were prowlin' the woods. They heard poundin' and felt the earth shakin'. It roused their curiosity. They sneaked up a small hill, like this one, and peeked at the goin's on. Floaters pullin' transports was deliverin' supplies for the barriers. The Tiegs gang believed the floaters was UFO's. They was convinced that silent spacemen was buildin' a base ta launch attacks on planet earth.

Of course no one believed them, especially when they started rantin' about aliens and spaceships. They was just kids with over-powerful imaginations. My daddy told us he overheard the rumors they was spreadin. He tracked 'em down and said he knew they was tellin' the truth. Daddy said that he and as many adults as they could round up would go with them ta the place where they saw the UFO's.

Butch spoke, "You'd do that? Why do you think we ain't lying?"

Daddy said, "I cain't tell you how I know, but you can trust me on this, I've seen things too."

"Oh, I know," said Red Stubbins, "A year back ya got abducted along with Freck, Wishes, and Mizzus Anderton. Right?"

"Our memories was wiped clean, but I can still recall bein' lifted up by a bright light."

Butch asked, "Do ya think if'n we showed you the place, you could stand up for us?"

"That's my intention. I'm goin' ta try and get Bud Horton. Bud takes photographs for the Gazette. With photos to prove it, there'd be no questionin' it. Let's meet up early tomorrow before the sun rises. That way we can sneak a peek without fear of bein' seen. Who knows what would happen ta us if the spacemen catch us. Is that all right with you boys?"

They readily agreed. The last thing they wanted to do was get caught spyin' on aliens and they wanted more than heck ta be believed.

At 4:30 am Daddy pulled his rugged old red pickup truck ta the front of the newspaper office. Bud, the photographer, was there along with three very sleepy lookin' boys. Beau Motley, Freck's daddy, was ridin' shotgun. He got out and gave his seat to Butch. Joe and the others climbed inta the back.

It warn't far. They arrived at the edge of the woods fifteen minutes later. From there they would hafta walk. Ya gotta be careful hikin' through the woods when it's still dark. Not only could ya make a misstep and twist an ankle or break somethin', but ya might get lost. Lucky for them the poundin' sound was a beacon ta keep 'em on track. Shhh . . . pound . . . shhh . .
. pound. As long as it kept gettin' louder they was goin' the right way.

SHHH...POUND. Hunchin' over ta stay low ta the ground, they crawled up the little hill. By the time they reached the top ever'one of 'em was flat on their bellies. No one saw 'em, but they saw plenty. Bud couldn't use the flash attachment on his camera for fear of revealing 'em. Instead he adjusted the shutter speed to get some low light shots.

◽️◽️◽️

Daddy drove 'em back ta town. He dropped Bud at the newspaper office along with the three boys. The boys grabbed their bikes and sped away. Probably hopin' ta get a little more shuteye b'fore school. Mister Horton said, "I'm gonna develop this film and make some prints. It shouldn't take long—an hour—maybe. If ya wanna come back, we can go over them together."

"Sure thing Bud." Mister Motley said. He turned in the seat and spoke ta Daddy, "Let's head over to Whizzy's Diner for a cup'a joe. I ain't been there since he re-opened. Bud, do ya want us ta get ya anythin'?"

"Coffee, black, and Danish. I could really use an eye opener."

An hour later they were back with his coffee and danish. Bud took a big whiff. "Boy that sure smells good. Follow me to the back where the prints are dryin'."

Bud was a professional, for sure. The prints were black and white, but very clear. Keepers, the wall, floaters, and the giant machine poundin' the panels in, was in the shots. He was limited ta the number of angles he could get, but this was exactly the photo proof they was hopin' for.

"Let's head over ta the mayor's office right away." My daddy said.

Bud wouldn't. "We cain't do that yet."

"Why the heck not?"

"'Cuz Mr. Ashe has to see 'em first. The newspaper owns the film, camera, and darkroom. Mr. Ashe owns the newspaper. If I don't let him have first crack at 'em I'd lose my job."

Getting fired was a pretty good reason. Thankfully they didn't have ta wait too long. Mr. Ashe was an early riser. He prided himself on arrivin' at the office b'fore anyone else. It set a good example. Not only that, but It gave him time ta plan his day, and check for overnight news. He used ta read the Tampa Herald, but with roads still broken up, it was goin' ta be quite awhile b'fore he'd see another issue. Radio was now his only source. It musta given him quite a shock to walk in and see three men waitin' for him. The daddies let Bud do the talkin' since he worked there and all. Bud cleared his throat, and began, "Mr. Ashe, sir, we have somethin' phenomenal to show you. Maybe we can use your meetin' table to spread out the pictures I took."

The publisher led them inta his grand office. It was still coming together. The Great Crash messed up ever'thin'. Bud took the twelve, 8X10 glossy photos and laid them one-by-one on the conference table. At first Mr. Ashe was mildly curious. He picked up the first one and asked, "When did you shoot these?"

"Early this mornin'."

"And where?" He said as he began to examine the next photo.

"We were south of town about five miles. Butch Tiegs and his buddy's told us that there were some odd goin's on in the woods. It sounded far fetched, but they were so convincin' that the three of us decided ta take a look."

By the third picture you could see his jaw drop, and his hands shake with excitement. "Good God man, do you know what you've got here?"

"Yes sir, I think we do."

"It's proof man! Proof of extraterrestrial life!" He was now grabbin' the photos and barely glancin' at them until he had been through all twelve. He was pacin' 'round the room, and breathin' real hard. Then . . . then a shadow crossednhis face. He slumped down inta the nearest chair with one of those deer in the headlights looks. "Now what are we goin' to do? This could be the worst thing to ever happen to our town."