The Chameleon Soldier: NOW AS AN ALIEN BLUE HE CANNOT DIE. (4 page)

The following month, on May 23rd and 24th, the 1st Cavalry, along with other elements of the Union Army, paraded through the streets of Washington, D. C. Sergeant Killian Muldoon was one of the most highly decorated cavalry soldiers. He felt proud as he rode, with the 1st Cavalry, in his colorful dress uniform and Hardee hat to receive cheers from the politicians, the citizens and President Andrew Johnson.

Later that month the 1st Cavalry Company was ordered back to the frontier, where they engaged in fighting with the Apaches in the Chiricahua Mountains of Arizona. From 1866 to 1871 the 1st Cavalry was involved in numerous skirmishes during the American Indian Wars with Sergeant Muldoon in charge of reconnaissance.

In 1872 Killian
took leave. He went home to El Paso to visit his parents. It had been close to thirteen years since he had left home with his friend Tom Muldoon. As he rode up to the farmhouse he was surprised and dejected to see how badly run down it had become. When he entered the sandy front yard, his mother and father were standing on the front porch. Having not aged himself, Killian was taken aback at how much older his parents looked. He dismounted. They stood staring across the yard at one another. Killian could see they were as surprised to see their son looking the same as the day he had left, as he was at their tired, older looking appearance. Then his mother rushed into his arms.

Killian stayed longer than he had first planned. He did as much as he could to help them get the small ranch and farm back into shape. He mended fences, repaired and painted the old barn, and fixed some of the machinery.

Then he left to rejoin the troop. On his arrival he learned that his nemesis Lieutenant Liddle had been promoted to captain, and he was now Master Sergeant Muldoon. Their company had received orders to report to Fort McDermitt in Nevada. Killian knew that having Captain Liddle as his commanding officer spelt trouble. Over the past months, Lieutenant Liddle had been instrumental in keeping Killian from going on important reconnaissance missions. Liddle watched his every move like a hawk.

Once they arrived at Fort McDermitt, they learned their duty was to protect the stage route from Virginia City, Nevada, to Boise City, Idaho, from the hostile Bannock and Shoshone Indians. It was an uneventful duty. Killian was restless and bored. He wanted it to end. However, two years passed and in 1874, Killian was still at Fort McDermitt.

That summer he became eligible for retirement, and was giving it serious thought. He was now forty-two years old, but still looked twenty-eight. Captain Liddle and the other men were beginning to wonder how he maintained such good health, and his youthful appearance. Killian’s decision to retire was hastened when he received a letter from his mother informing him his father had died. He retired, and left for El Paso, Texas. After returning home, Killian worked the farm and ranch for two years with his mother and Chester Freeman, a twenty-two-year-old married black man, whom he had hired.

Then, in June 1876, he heard the news about the massacre of the 7th Cavalry and the death of General George Armstrong Custer. Killian thought about the military, he missed that way of life, and realized he wanted to return to the cavalry. He wanted to leave. For two days Killian weighed his decision. He knew there was more work to be done on the farm, and his mother needed him. Eventually he decided to stay on. Ten years passed. When his ageing mother caught pneumonia and died, Killian’s old desire to return to the military resurfaced.

Chester and Martha Freeman now had two sons; Peter, born in 1876, and Jacob, born in 1877. They were young, strapping boys, and helped their father work the ranch, which had become successful due to Killian and Chester’s hard work. Killian’s yearning to get back into the military kept getting stronger.

One day, he read about the government’s new fort in Montana that was named after General Custer. The part of the newspaper article, which particularly caught his attention was about the 1st Cavalry’s Company M. They were being transferred from Fort Custer to Fort Yellowstone, which was underfunded. Company M was taking over the duties of the civilian staff, as they were unable to protect the park’s natural features and wildlife. The soldiers’ duty was to protect the park from vandalism and extinction. Killian thought it would be good duty, as he no longer had the desire to fight Indians.

He put the ranch in the capable hands of Chester and rode off to Fort Custer. It was now July 1886. Having been born in the summer of 1832, Killian was fifty-four years old, but he had not aged since 1860. He still had the appearance of a strong and handsome young man, with a full head of red hair and a trimmed beard. While on his way to Fort Custer, he decided to change his last name. Too many men in the cavalry had heard of Master Sergeant Killian Muldoon. He decided to do honor to his mother by using her maiden name.

It was late in the afternoon, when he rode through the front gate of Fort Custer. As he entered, he noticed a commotion in the center of the parade grounds. Soldiers were struggling with what appeared to be a few old, very drunk Indians. A number of soldiers and civilians were laughing as they watched the soldiers struggle to put the unruly Indians into an outdoor barbed wire fence stockade. Killian dismounted and asked a cavalry sergeant what it was all about.

“We have a liquor problem around here. White settlements nearby have a few unprincipled men who traffic liquor to the Crows. There’s nothing that tends to degrade, demoralize, and stir up an Indian as much as the use of intoxicating drink. The old Crow Indians are affected the worse. They’re drunk when they enter the fort and raise a ruckus. It’s almost a daily occurrence,” chuckled the grinning sergeant.

Killian nods. “Sergeant, I’m here to enlist in Company M. Can you direct me where to sign up?”

“Sure. We can use young, strong-looking men like you.” He pointed the way. “Go into that building over there. The duty officer will get you signed up.”

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

Killian tied his horse by the fort entrance, walked over, and entered the building to enlist in Company M, of the 1st Cavalry. He told them his name was Killian Danaher and he was twenty-eight years old. Along with three other young recruits, he was sent over to the infirmary, for a physical. Upon entering the small eight-bed infirmary, each man was told to take off their shirt and sit on one of the beds. Killian removed his shirt and sat on the fourth bed. A doctor, in his mid-fifties, came over, and one by one he examined the men. When he came to Killian he hesitated for a moment.

“Trooper, what’s your name?”

Killian stared at the doctor. He was trying to remember if he had seen the man before. “Killian Danaher, sir,” he answered.

The doctor studied Killian’s face and proceeded with the examination.

He stepped back and looked at the four men. “You all seem to be in good shape. Put your shirts on and relax.”

The doctor crossed the room, and spoke in a low tone to the young medical officer, who had been assisting him. The officer left the infirmary. The doctor went over to a cabinet and removed two bottles. He counted out eight pills and handed two pills to each to the four men. “There’s water on the table next to you. Take the pills as they’re good for your health,” he explained.

The four men did as they were told.

The infirmary door opened and the young medical officer entered, followed by a burly sergeant, a powerfully built private, and Major Hiram Liddle.

The doctor tapped the other three cavalry recruits on the shoulder. “You may leave.”

He looked at Killian. “Trooper Danaher, please remain.”

As the three young recruits walked out of the infirmary, Major Liddle stepped over to Killian, who was sitting on the bed. He intensely stared into his face. Killian gave no indication that he recognized his old enemy.

“My God, Dr. Mead,” he hissed. “It’s him.

“How can that be Major? Killian Muldoon is our age.”

“But still, doctor, it’s him. I’ve never forgotten that face or those steely blue eyes.”

“It’s impossible, but I do agree with you Major.”

The two men talked as if Killian was a statue, like he wasn’t even there.

The major took a step closer to Killian. “It is you, isn’t it, Sergeant Muldoon?” It was as much a statement as a question.

“My name is Killian Danaher, sir. I don’t know what you two officers are talking about.”

The major stared hard at him.

“Do you know a Sergeant Muldoon? Maybe your father?” asked Dr. Mead.

“No, sir, I don’t,” Killian answered.

The major broke in. “Twenty-six years ago, I was a Lieutenant leading a patrol. Dr. Mead here was the medical officer on that patrol. He ministered to a young trooper we found lying unconscious by a creek. I don’t know how it’s possible, but you are that trooper.” The major fairly spat out the words.

Killian remained silent.

The doctor studied his face. “I feel I’m looking at the same man I saw at that creek,” he muttered. “You’re identical to him. When I examined you a few minutes ago, I noticed a spider-like birthmark on the back of your neck. It is the same birthmark I saw on the trooper whom we found unconscious at the creek.” The doctor laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Tell us if it’s you. I’d like to know how you’ve stayed so young and virile all these years,” he implored.

Killian realized the doctor was right. He had not reckoned with the birthmark. He could not believe Dr. Mead was the young medical officer from Fort Defiance, all those years ago. He gazed up at him, but still did not acknowledge anything.

The major snorted. “Damn you, Killian Muldoon! I don’t know what witchery you’re up to, but I’ve known all these years there was something strange, about you.”

“My name is Killian Danaher, sir. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’m from the fine state of Kansas. I’ve never seen you two officers before.”

Major Liddle’s face turned red with anger as he stepped back, and turned to the two troopers who had come into the infirmary with him.

“Sergeant, you take Killian Muldoon to the stockade, and throw him in with those drunken Indians. We’ll get the truth out of him later!” he bellowed.

The burly sergeant took Killian by the arm. He and the private escorted him to the stockade.

Major Liddle and the doctor watched them go.

“It’s uncanny,” said Dr. Mead, “but I’m positive it’s him. However, as a doctor, I don’t know how it’s possible. It’s as if time has stood still for him.”

“For years I tried to find out what his secret was. The things he did on scouting and reconnaissance missions were totally impossible. He’s some sort of a demon.”

“I don’t believe in that sort of thing, Major, but with him, it’s certain something is highly unusual. He isn’t normal. I’d like to examine him thoroughly.”

“You’ll get your opportunity, Dr. Mead, but it will be later tomorrow. In the morning I’ll be questioning Killian Muldoon, along with my interrogators.”

Outside a guard opened the barbed wire gate and the sergeant shoved Killian inside the stockade. He looked around at his prison. It was a thirty-foot square compound, surrounded by a ten-foot high barbed fence. There was an armed guard on each of the four sides.

The sergeant yelled, “Yeah, soldier boy, look around. You ain’t going anywhere, so you may as well make yourself comfortable with your drunken cellmates.”

Killian regarded the drunken Crow Indians. They were huddled together, lying on the ground, loudly snoring.

That night, as Killian lay near the Indians, he pondered ways of getting out of the stockade. He realized that Major Liddle would go to any lengths to learn his secret. Killian cursed the day he had had the life-changing fight with the weird Indian whose bluish blood had spilled into his mouth and eyes.

The transformations had now become a major part of his life. They weren’t something that happened to him when he became angry or frightened. Now Killian was able to control the transformations. This knowledge had come to him a few months previously, while working on his farm. One afternoon, while plowing a field, he’d been daydreaming about his encounters with the Apaches in Arizona. Slowly he began to transform into an Apache. He stopped concentrating on the Apaches, and instead focused his mind on the Negro man, Chester Freeman. He watched with bemusement as his arms turned a dark brown. He wondered how much control he had. That evening, in his room, he stood naked in front of a mirror and concentrated on different races of people. Each time the color of his skin, eyes and hair changed, as did his speech. He had been both thrilled and sickened by what he heard and saw. He had to force back the urge to cry.
Why had he been chosen to be able to perform this supernatural morphing? Was there a reason—or it was just a freakish accident?
As he had stared at himself in the mirror he had thought seriously of suicide.

It was late. The only sound was the snoring of the old Crow Indians. Then Killian heard voices. He sat up and saw there was a changing of the guards. Sensing an opportunity for escape, Killian moved close to the sleeping Crow Indians, lay down and transformed.

As he lay there, he thought about the events that had led him to this situation. He wanted answers as to why he was the way he was, and what it all meant. What were his strengths and weaknesses? What could he do, and what was he incapable of doing? He recalled the Indian called Lupan, who had threatened to kill him with fire. Killian contemplated the sleeping Crow Indians, and wondered if their medicine man might possibly be able to give him answers.

At daybreak the guards opened the stockade gate. They were gruff as they told the Indians to get out of the fort, and go back to their reservation. As Killian left the stockade, now in the guise of an old Crow Indian, he saw that his horse was still tied up by the fort entrance. He quietly slipped up into the saddle and rode away, trailing the Crow Indians to their reservation.

When Killian entered the Indian camp many eyes stared at him. He rode slowly onward until he saw the medicine man. The old man was standing in front of a tent, gazing at him. Killian dismounted, and approached his quarry.