David Golemon - Event

"The Roswell Incident--whether legend, fact, or some combination of both--has inspired countless novels and movies over the years, but David Lynn Golemon's Event peels back the layers of Roswell with refreshing originality. The action is spectacularly cinematic, the characters compelling, and the story is a flat-out adrenaline rush that pits real-world, cutting-edge military technology against a literally out-of-this-world threat. Even better, the Event Group itself is one of the best fictional agencies to arise in the literature of government conspiracies."

--New York Times bestselling authors

Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens

"Fans of UFO fiction will find this a great read, and fans of military fiction won't be disappointed either."

--SFSIGNAL.COM

"Golemon puts his military experience to good use in this promising debut sure to satisfy fans of The X-Files.... the plotting and hair's-breadth escapes evoke some of the early work of Preston and Child, and the author's premise offers a rich lode of material for the inevitable sequels."

--Publishers Weekly

"Imagine mixing in a blender a Tom Clancy novel with the movie Predator and the television series The X-Files... readers who enjoy nonstop action and lots of flying bullets will enjoy Golemon's first book in a projected series."

--Library Journal

For Eunice and Valisa, Mom and Sis, who are always in my thoughts.

My children, Shaune, Brandon, and Katie, for just believing in me.

For Annemarie, to put it frankly, the woman who saved my life.

And finally for my father, The only real hero I've ever known.

This one's for you, Pop!

As any author will tell you, the process of listing all the kind and generous people who helped or assisted in some way to the actual foundation of any written story can be a daunting task. So it's always best to start at the top.

Heartfelt thanks go first and foremost to Thomas Dunne Books for taking a chance on a strange story from the desert. To Pete Wolverton (the best editor in the business), for guiding a novice novelist through the minefield of the written word. Pete's suggestions added heart to my soul and the end result was magical. To Katie, an assistant editor who patiently dealt with an out-of-control geek and answered every stupid question thrown her way (the publishing world will hear from Katie), and to every one of the editors at Thomas Dunne, who I'm sure thought about a career change right in the middle of editing Event. Now, for my agent, Bob Mecoy, the first believer in this little monster tale, here's to a long "E" Ticket ride, Bob!

I would like to thank a special man out in San Diego, Dr. Kenneth Vecchio of San Diego State University, for doing something for our boys overseas that not a lot of people think about; the special Abalone shell body armor mentioned in this book is real and on the wish list of this author to get it to the troops soonest! Along those same lines, kudos to Helicos BioSciences in Cambridge, Massachusetts, who are doing amazing things with their magical DNA sequencing machine, cutting precious time off a long and difficult process of sequencing.

With the exception of the M-2786 radio and the Cray Corporation's Europa XP series computer, all military hardware mentioned in this novel is real and either on the drawing board or in action. Also thanks go to the U.S. Department of Energy, who was very helpful in answering some very unnerving questions.

To the Mathies family of Babylon, New York, for treating a writer like a human being. It will never be forgotten.

For all those people in Roswell, New Mexico, who are tired of the notoriety. Someday it will all pay off, I promise.

And finally to all those people and friends I have failed (forgotten, let's be honest) to mention, thank you. Any mistakes or outright omissions are the author's responsibility.

During the current times, it's easy for people to take for granted the men and women who are defending this country; right or wrong, opinion versus opinion, they are doing their jobs and doing things well in the most inhospitable conditions that can only be imagined by people who have been in war.

It is not the intention of this author or the publishers of this work to merely make the American military a mere prop in a fictional story. With the highest respect, we attempt to portray them in the highest regard possible. We would never disrespect their ability, their patriotism or their honor for the sake of realism.

But all those soldiers must admit, you would rather be fighting an enemy with a little more class than your current foe--after all, all monsters aren't bad.

The blowing sand stung like small buckshot striking his face and exposed hands. The portly man held his hat tight to his head as he ran from truck to truck shouting at the drivers the best he could, repeating his commands when the wind snatched his words away. He was becoming hoarse with his repeated yelling over the sandstorm that had arisen in the last fifteen minutes. The last truck driver in the line of fifteen two-and-half-ton vehicles nodded, understanding that the convoy would wait on the side of rural Highway 4 until this sudden show of desert fury subsided.

Dr. Kenneth Early, a metallurgist by profession, had been placed in charge of arguably the most valuable pieces of cargo in the history of the world, at least that's what he kept telling himself. Garrison Lee had selected him personally to make sure the crates they were transporting arrived safely in Nevada. They would have flown to Las Vegas Army Airfield but the dangers of an aerial mishap dictated they travel by secure truck convoy, and Lee had provided ten of his best security people to guard this unusual cargo.

The doctor fought his way back to the lead truck and waved at the driver inside, then proceeded to the green government Chevrolet at the head of the column. He opened the rear door and was grateful for the shelter the car provided. He removed his hat and shook it out, creating a small dust cloud and making his security driver cough.

"Sorry, it's really blowing out there" Early said as he threw his hat on the seat beside him, then took his thick glasses out of his coat. He placed them on his nose, then leaned forward, placing his elbows on the front seat. "Any luck with the radio yet?"

"Not a word, Doc, it's probably the storm; these army-surplus radios just aren't that good when it comes to weather."

"Damn, Lee will have my butt if we don't let him know we had to pull off, it screws up his time schedule," Early said trying to peer through the side window. "I don't much like sitting here out in the middle of nowhere."

"Me neither, Doc. To tell you the truth, knowing what's in those crates, hell, I can't seem to look at the world the same as I did yesterday." The driver swallowed and turned his head to look at Early. "There's some really bad scuttlebutt goin' round, Doc, really creepy stuff."

Early looked at the young army lieutenant, only attached to the group three months. "I know exactly what you mean, I'll feel better when we have it all safely at the new complex."