The carriage pulled up to the house, but the men inside made no
move to exit. The rain on the roof sounded like the rapid
gunfire of a pitched battle.
"The assassination went as planned. I don't understand what
you're so uptight about, Clint."
"The transport device should have returned by now," Clint
replied. He sat staring into the rainy night for a moment and
then continued, "Glen, do you think there's something we've left
undone?"
"Could be," Glen responded. "But it beats me what it is.
Lincoln's dead, everyone's blaming that Booth fellow, and no one
could possibly suspect us. That's the worst thing about this
job. Once we're in the time and on location, everything else is
left up to our own devices."
"The orders said remove Lincoln from power and guarantee the
destabilization of the United States government," said Clint.
"Perhaps something further is required to destabilize the
government."
"I don't think so. With that buffoon Johnson in office,
everything should start downhill pretty fast," said Glen.
"Yes, but what if Johnson isn't in office long enough to mess up
everything. If someone takes a shot and kills him too, or they
impeach him, then what does that mean to us? The transport
vehicle might never come. We've got to be proactive!" Clint
said. After a moment, he continued, "Also, there's a lot of
talk about General Grant running for president."
"He could have a reassuring and calming influence on the
citizens, but surely you don't think . . ." Glen paused.
"That has to be it!" Clint exclaimed. "Johnson will serve out
Lincoln's term, and begin the destabilization. We must make
sure that there is no hero waiting to step in and bring
everything back together."
"That's quite a leap of logic. How do we even know that Ulysses
S. Grant would be elected, and if he were elected, that he would
become a unifying figure? The southerners have an
understandable and definite dislike for him."
"True, but with Reconstruction going strong, the south will be
kept well in hand for a while, I think. Besides, his mere
presence should bring the people together for a while."
Glen pondered for a few minutes. "I say we do it. Obviously,
we're intended to do something further, and it can't hurt
anything, can it?"
"I agree," said Clint. "We should start making plans
immediately."
The rain had slacked a bit and so they both got out of the
carriage and trotted to the door of the house.
The house was the property of Clint's cousin Samuel. Clint and
Glen were staying there while Samuel was away on business in New
York. At least that was the story that Clint and Glen had told
locally. The truth was that Samuel lay in a shallow grave about
two hundred yards behind the house. With no relatives living
close by, Samuel had been the perfect victim.
"Do you think the Leaders ever get tired of playing around in
the affairs of other creatures?" Clint asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it seems kind of pointless to try and topple an alien
government just to see if you can."
"Yea, but that's why they are the Leaders and we're just the
Hands. I think it just gives them a sense of power. It's sort
of like playing God. They tinker around with one inferior race
for a while, they get bored with that, and they move on to
another. That's my opinion, anyway."
"I guess you're right. It keeps us employed."
Two weeks later, they had determined the location of Ulysses
Grant. For several days, they observed his movements and his
habits.
"He's just going for a ride through the countryside, Clint.
This is a perfect opportunity. If he's like most people, he'll
return by the same route that he left. We'll wait and ambush
him."
They found a good hiding spot, with an excellent view of the
path they expected to see Grant follow, and waited.
Over an hour later, they heard singing.
"What's that?" asked Glen.
"It sounds like he's singing," replied Clint. "The General's
drunk! This'll be easier than we thought."
"His singing is getting louder. He must be very close now.
Let's get ready."
The two aliens drew their weapons and awaited the appearance of
General Grant. Shortly, they heard a grunt and the singing
stopped.
"What happened?" Cliff asked.
"I think he must've fallen off his horse," responded Glen.
"Let's move in and get him now!"
The two aliens stood up and started down the path where they
expected to find Grant. After taking only a couple of steps,
they heard a voice behind them.
"What're you boys doing hiding here in the brush?" General
Ulysses S. Grant asked.
The aliens turned and saw the General with his weapon drawn.
"You boys have been slinking around for days now. Did you think
you were going to pull a quick one on me?"
The aliens did not say anything. Instead, they dove to the
ground in opposite directions.
Grant had obviously expected something like that and he kept his
focus on the one called Glen. Glen had raised his weapon as he
dove, but the General shot him before he could fire.
Immediately, General Grant ducked behind a small boulder and
turned his weapon on the alien called Clint.
Clint's dive had not been as graceful. He was just now lifting
his weapon and trying to locate General Grant. He never had the
chance.
Clint and Glen had appeared very human and natural in life, but
death revealed their true nature. They looked grotesque and
bird-like to Grant.
He knew that he was very drunk. He must be so drunk that he was
hallucinating. Ulysses S. Grant got back on his horse, rode
home and never told anyone about killing two giant birds that
had tried to shoot him from ambush.
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