The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County (23 page)

39

T
he explosion shook Karl Adams's bed, rattled the windows in his cabin, and brought him wide awake from a deep sleep where he had been dreaming about old people dancing around the Trail Marker Oak and singing a song that he didn't recognize. Karl sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and wondered if he had really heard an explosion or if that had been a part of his weird dream. When he heard the scream of sirens, he knew the explosion was real. He glanced at the clock sitting on the scarred table by his bed: 5:00 a.m. He pulled on his clothes and decided to find out what had exploded with such force that the entire cabin had shook.

It was about an hour before dawn—the eastern sky showed hints of the sunrise. Karl turned and glanced in the direction of the park and saw a reddish glow in the sky. He climbed into his car and headed for the park. Once there, he was stopped by the upraised arm of a Link Lake police officer, his patrol car parked across the road, blocking the way.

Karl rolled down his window. “What's going on?” he asked.

“Something blew up in the park. Made one helluva noise. Shook the whole town. Woke up a bunch of people.”

“I was one of them. Think it had something to do with the new sand mine?”

“Might be. Some folks ain't too happy about having a mine in the park. They ain't happy at all. All these outside protestors in town. That didn't help either.”

“So I've noticed,” said Karl. “I'm with the Alstage Sand Mining Company and was curious if any of our equipment was involved.”

“Tell you what, I'll give Henry a call—he's chief of our volunteer fire department. He's right there with his crew. He'd know.”

The young police officer talked into his radio. “Say Henry, guy here with me says he's with the mining company, wants to know if any of the mining equipment was involved in the explosion.”

The police officer listened to the response, then turned to Karl.

“Henry says there was some kind of a machine here—and it was blown all to hell. Those were Henry's very words. He said some of it's still burning and there's a big hole in the ground caused by the explosion. He doesn't have any idea what caused the machine to blow up. Appears nobody was hurt. Appears just the machine blew up and burned. Henry said something else that's not good. The eagle nest was destroyed. The one with the eagle cam. Henry said he found a pair of dead eagles and a dead eaglet. He said the other little eagle was alive but hurt. Terrible what happened.”

Karl turned his car around and drove toward Link Lake until he found a place to park. He took out his cell phone and called Emerson Evans.

“Big problems here in Link Lake. Somebody just blew up the drilling machine that you delivered a few days ago,” said Karl when he reached Evans.

“What'd you just say?” Evans asked, not believing what he was hearing. The ringing of his cell phone had awakened him.

“Somebody blew up the drilling machine. To quote the fire chief, ‘it was all blown to hell.'”

“I thought you had everything under control, everything cool?” Evans shouted into the phone.

“So did I,” said Karl. “But when people saw that big drilling machine move in, everything went south. A bunch of protestors showed up, marching back and forth in front of the park. Mostly older people carrying signs. I wasn't too worried about them. Then something else happened.”

“And that was?” asked Evans, not at all pleased with what he was hearing from the man who was supposed to be smoothing the way for the mine opening.

“Somebody spray painted the map I put up at the village hall.”

“Didn't you realize that things have turned? I thought that's why we hired you, to keep an eye on things.”

“Well, I . . . I,” Karl stammered. “I didn't see it coming. Things seemed to have calmed down.”

“Didn't see it coming? A defaced sign and bunch of protestors seem to suggest a turning point!”

“I've seen protestors before, lots of them. Defaced posters and maps too,” said Karl.

“But how many times have you seen a million-dollar machine blown up? Tell me that!” Evans was yelling and Karl held the phone away from his ear.

“I'd think you'd better come over here,” said Karl quietly.

“You damn betcha I'm coming over there—I'll be there this afternoon. Don't say anything to the press; don't say anything to anybody. Sounds like we'll have to play hardball from here on out.”

“One more thing,” said Karl.

“Yes,” said Evans.

“The blast that blew up the drilling machine also blew down a bald eagle nest and killed three eagles and hurt a fourth one.”

“Good God, Karl. You know what that means, don't you? Those dead eagles will bring the federal Fish and Wildlife Service people into Link Lake faster than I can get there. That's the last thing we need, a bunch of feds prowling around our mine site. Anything else you haven't told me?”

“No,” said Karl.

“Well, I should hope to hell not. We got ourselves a real mess in Link Lake. I'll meet you at the mine site this afternoon. I'll give you a call when I'm a few minutes out of town.”

Karl drove back to his cabin feeling totally defeated. Just when he thought everything was working out better than he had hoped for, it all fell apart. He also couldn't remember when he'd gotten such a tongue-lashing.

Karl shaved, showered, and headed to the Eat Well Café for breakfast. At 6:30 a.m. the place was nearly filled with people, all talking loud, and all talking about the explosion that rocked the town. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon frying woke up Karl's taste buds, but his ears were tuned in to the variety of conversations he was hearing.

“Heard it was a terrorist bombing—you know them terrorists are just about everywhere, looking for things to blow up. Surprise that nobody got killed. That damn explosion shook my house so bad it about busted the windows. Never heard nothin' like that, 'cept when I was in the army. Heard them kind of noises then.” It was an older gentleman at the counter who was talking, waving his coffee cup in the air as he spoke.

At a table in the corner, just beyond where Karl was enjoying his platter of eggs, bacon, and coffee, Karl overheard Oscar Anderson and Fred Russo deep in conversation.

“Oscar, did you hear that bomb go off this morning, the one everybody is talkin' about?”

“Geez, Fred, who said it was a bomb? I heard it was an explosion of some kind—heard one of the volunteer firefighters say he thought the Alstage Mining drill had just blown up—that it may have had a gas leak of some kind. I did hear it go off, way out at my farm. Woke me up. Time to get up anyway.”

“Sure as hell sounded like some kind of bomb. I heard it go off too,” said Fred.

“Fred, just because it sounded like a bomb doesn't mean it was a bomb.”

“Sounded like a bomb to me,” Fred said as he took a long sip of coffee.

“Let's say it was a bomb. Who'd wanna blow up a drilling machine?”

Fred paused a minute before answering. “Maybe one of them Arab terrorists? They like blowin' up stuff.”

“Good God, Fred. Do you think some Arab terrorist is gonna come all the way to Link Lake to blow up some damn mining machine?”

“You just never know, Oscar. This old world is changin' so fast I can't keep up with it. Wouldn't surprise me if some terrorist did it.”

K
arl Adams finished his coffee, walked up to the counter, and paid his bill. Henrietta recognized him and smiled.

“Pretty exciting around here this morning,” said Karl.

“That explosion was really something. Shook my house. Rattled the windows,” said Henrietta.

“Who do you suppose did it?” asked Karl.

“One of them protestors. It's got to be one of them protestors. Police should round them all up and arrest them,” said Henrietta as she handed Karl his change.

40

T
he explosion roused Marilyn Jones from a deep sleep. Not only had the sound startled her awake, but her entire house shook from the shock of the blast. Within a few minutes she heard sirens. She reached for her phone and called the Link Lake Police Department—she knew that Louise Konkel was working the overnight shift as dispatcher. Louise had once worked for Marilyn as a waitress at the Link Lake Supper Club.

“Link Lake Police Department,” a perky, wide-awake voice said.

“Louise, this is Marilyn Jones. What's going on?”

“I don't really know. Lots of folks heard an explosion a few minutes ago and immediately the 911 calls began coming in.”

“I heard it,” said Marilyn. “The blast shook my house. Where'd it happen?”

“At the park. Jimmy, our night patrol officer, is over there right now. Fire department is also on the scene.”

“Did Jimmy say what blew up?”

“He guessed it was the big drilling machine that the mining company brought in a while ago.”

“Oh,” said Marilyn. “Thank you.”

Marilyn, now wide awake, walked to her kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She glanced across the waters of Link Lake and saw a bright sun slowly creeping above the horizon. Everything was peaceful and quiet. Except on the other side of town there was pandemonium. A fire was raging and people were awake and wondering what the explosion was all about. What had blown up and what caused it?

Marilyn was thinking,
I'd guess some radical kook blew up Alstage's drilling machine. One of those protestors who march in front of the park every day. I suspect the bomber was encouraged by that damn Stony Field. He just can't quit sticking his nose into our town's business. You'd think he'd have enough to write about in other parts of the world.

What is happening to this country? Here we're trying to improve Link Lake and people get all worked up when they see some changes coming their way. There's a bunch of folks around here that want things to stay just the same. Members of the historical society, that bunch with old Emily Higgins goading them on, are so stuck in the past that they wouldn't recognize progress if they stepped in it. Don't touch anything. Don't cut down an old tree. That damned Trail Marker Oak has evoked so much sympathy. You'd think it was a famous person. It's just a damned old oak tree that'll probably die by itself in a few years. And Stony Field—why does he think he should stick his nose into Link Lake's business?