A deep gash covered the flats in a straight line along with bits of dusky rubble. The sand, where the object had collided with the ground, had become a glass scoria, where bits of phlogiston from sage brush still smoldered in tiny flickering flames that naturally put themselves out.
But what was most interesting is what was in the lake itself. As the riders drew closer they could see an atramentous stone, obelisk in shape, and with hideous designs hewn along its four sides protruding from silt.
One of the riders, Jack leans over from his horse, looking into the water, “It goes all the way down.”
They all peer into the lake where he’s pointing. All they could make out was a silhouette.
“Let’s jump in,” offers Billy, “Where we can get a better look at it.”
“Wait,” exclaims Charlie, “No one is going in that water. Look at the fish, they’re bellied-up.”
Suddenly Billy sees a frog-like creature in the sand a few feet away, crawling around near the waterline, “Look at this, it’s alive.”
By now, and having dismounted, Billy picks it up, “It feels slippery.”
As Billy turns it over Charlie notices that not only is the misshapen creature a green-color, it also has a silver-tint. Then Billy yells out, the thing has bitten him between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Blood,” Billy blurts out, showing his wounded hand to the other two.
Minutes later Billy starts convulsing. And in less time, the seizing stops and Billy lets out a long, agonizing groan before he dies.
Charlie lets out a heavy sigh, “Don’t touch his body.”
“Ain’t we gonna take him back with us?” asks Jack.
“No,” Charlie replied, “Were going to leave him here and come…”