The Chillicothe Horror Affair: Epilogue
The Chillicothe Horror Affair
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin, April Dancer/Mark Slate (background)
Warning: This is the chapter with the graphic sex.
Chapter Index
Prologue: ...his Unspeakable Name...
Act 1:...something must have brainwashed them.
Act 2: ...There's something not right here...
Act 3: ...a little bird told me.
Act 4: Your Guide has found you!
Epilogue: ...a good beginning.
Act IV: "...a good beginning."
The four UNCLE agents stopped by the hospital first thing after breakfast the next morning, to find Sentinel Armstrong finishing her own breakfast with her new Guide at her side. They were holding off the bonding they clearly were craving until Miss Armstrong had recovered from severe dehydration and malnourishment, so the hospital was restricting their visitors. They happily welcomed Mark, April, Illya and Napoleon, however.
"I can't begin to thank you enough," the Sentinel said, once they'd all crowded in to her room. "Abigail explained to me that you'd come for your own Sentinels, but you must permit me some gratitude. I wouldn't have held out much longer, and my Guide could never have found me without your help."
"Well, without your Guide's knowledge none of us would have been found," Illya replied.
"All true," April said. "Mark explained to me what you taught him about Guides working together. You know, we've worked with Sentinels and Guides all over the world and I've never heard of anything like it."
Abigail looked up with surprise to hear this, but soon glanced back down to where she and her Sentinel's hands were clasped. "We are all where we are meant to be, my Guide teacher often said to me," she said. "I have come to realize as well that there might have been more to my choice of Deadman cave as a study site."
"It was explained to me, by that wise old Sentinel back in Germany," Napoleon said. "That our spirit guides tell us things, even when we can't see or hear them."
"Even when you don't believe they exist at all," Illya added.
"I imagine there's a story to go with that which I hope to hear some day," Miss Armstrong said. "But probably more excitement than the nurses will approve for now." Abigail nodded and the four UNCLE agents took that as their cue to depart.
They'd arranged to meet at the police station next, along with the four Guides who'd taken part in the rescue, and their Sentinels. When they got there, Napoleon was not surprised to find that it was officer Cranston, the Sentinel, who'd been put in charge of closing the case.
"So I've just gotten off the phone with the Grotto," he began. "They've agreed to declare the whole Deadman Cave area geologically unstable and list the cave as unsafe and closed. County road crews will patch over the gap in the culvert sometime next week."
"And the State Prison?" asked Mark.
"The Feds, along with some other fellows in suits that we can only assume are connected to your bunch," officer Cranston nodded towards the UNCLE agents, "showed up late last night and sealed off the whole area. They say the situation is under control and we'll be notified of anything we need to know."
The reactions of the five Sentinels and six Guides sitting around the table varied from relieved to worried to dissatisfied, but none of them seemed to feel that the situation was entirely resolved.
"I believe our Miss Blackfish would remind us all," Napoleon spoke up, "that our duty here, as Sentinels and Guides, will not be concluded as long as the monstrosity below Chillicothe still lives. May I presume that I am currently addressing all the known Sentinels and Guides from this area, with the exception of Miss Blackfish and her Sentinel?" He was answered with nods all around.
"In the nomenclature of European Sentinel and Guide councils," he continued, "Illya and I would be considered 'Alphas', by reason of the natural strength of our gifts. Now my Russian Sentinel here does not hold with hierarchies overmuch, so you may take from this that we do not believe that this position gives us any rights to command other Sentinels and Guides, but rather responsibilities, to see to it that Sentinels and Guides in our territory are protected and respected, to assure that where a Sentinel is needed, one can be found, and to be honest arbiters when conflicts arise between us."
"Okay, I got no problem with any of that," said Omer Gosling, Dahlia Smart's Sentinel. "But what is your fella's 'territory' exactly? Dahlia, she says you're stronger than any Guide she ever met, but you're not exactly from around these parts."
"You're right about that," Illya answered him. "And until we meet anyone stronger, I'd say that our region would be the whole of North America."
"But… he's a Rooskie!" objected Spencer Railing. His Guide, Lindy Beldavs, silenced him with a scathing look.
"It's how he was raised," she apologised. "He'll come around once I've explained things."
"It's hard in a little town like this one," Officer Cranston said, "for folks to trust outsiders or to get used to new ideas."
"Naturally," Napoleon said. "And you shouldn't have to. Not if we organise things properly. Illya and I have our own work cut out for us, and we don't need to be managing every Sentinel in the US and Canada. You should have a local Alpha, and honestly, Officer Cranston, it ought to be you, but you're going to have to make one important change."
The police officer had been nothing but calm and collected throughout all their dealings with him, but now his eyes went wide and he flashed an almost panicked glance in the direction of Ricky Holden. "Do you have any idea what a scandal it was when Dahlia and Omer got together?" he asked. "The KKK actually held a rally at a nearby farm, just because she was black and he was white. I could lose my job if people knew…"
"As regional Alpha you won't be able to keep your bonded Guide a secret," Napoleon replied. "And if you do get fired because your bonded Guide happens to be male, the Chillicothe Police Department is going to find itself the subject of a Justice Department investigation, which will probably result in their having to chose a new Chief of Police. That is exactly the kind of thing that will come under our purview as Alpha Sentinel and Guide pair of North America."
With a sigh, Ricky Holden now stood and walked around to table to sit beside his distressed Sentinel, taking his hand in his two. "I told you, Ted," he said softly. "The locals, they don't know 'cause they don't want to know, but you can't hide this kinda thing from other Sentinels."
"How long have you two been together?" April asked kindly.
"Couple of years now," Ricky said. "We tried at first to pretend it wasn't happening, but in the end we just couldn't."
"I know how that goes, believe me," Illya said sympathetically. At this Officer Cranston looked up in surprise.
"Lord, I thought I was the only Sentinel in the world dumb enough to try and deny his own Guide," he said, making Napoleon laugh out loud.
"Let us take you out for a beer after you come off duty," Napoleon said. "We have a story I think you'll enjoy hearing. In the meantime, as UNCLE agents and Sentinels and Guides, our last duty here is to make sure that the monstrosity under Chillicothe never goes unwatched. As your Guide was there with us and saw the thing we saw, you have a good idea of just why this is so critical. Do you accept this charge?"
"I do understand," the police officer said earnestly. "And I accept the charge. That means I can put other local Sentinel and Guides on watch as well, yes?"
"Absolutely," Illya said. "And I'd say you would do well to spread the idea, of local Sentinels and Guides in other areas organizing and forming their own groups. I imagine Miss Blackfish would be willing to help in that regard."
Cranston nodded. "I bet it'll catch on pretty quick," he said. "Seems like we ought to have had this kinda thing some time ago."
"You're not wrong about that, guv," said Mark. "I wouldn't be surprised if it catches on like a bloomin' wildfire."
Napoleon didn't think he'd be surprised either. In fact it already all seemed meant to be.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
They all met once more a couple of days later, before the UNCLE agents left, in the hospital gardens. They were already calling themselves the Chillicothe Pride, though no one could think of who'd used the term first. Over the past 24 hours, the UNCLE agents had filed their initial reports with UNCLE, tied up all their loose ends with the local police, and had seen to it that Dan and Luther would each receive a Citation of Merit from the National Speleological Society for taking part in a cave rescue, and a full scholarship to the Colorado School of Mines as a token of appreciation from UNCLE itself.
In addition they'd convinced state authorities not to close the Chillicothe Penitentiary, but merely to ban Sentinels from either working or serving time there, and to promise to keep at least one Guide on staff at all times. This ingratiated the agents to the townsfolk to the point that their money was practically no good in any shop in town, but also did much to bolster the image of the local Pride, even when officer Cranston announced the identity of his Guide.
"Our police chief didn't speak to me for a whole day after the news came out," he said to the group sitting on the grass beside a bed of climbing roses. "But he had to watch half the folks in town come by to congratulate us and wish us the best while he sat in his office and sulked. We think he's fixin' to retire at the end of the year."
"Any idea who's going to replace him?" April asked only a little pointedly.
"Ain't supposed to talk about it," the officer said, looking away as his Guide leaned up to kiss his cheek.
"It's a good beginning for us," Abigail said. "And for all Sentinels of the New World. Our beginning here in Chillicothe is also the beginning for a new era for Sentinels and Guides in the Americas. Our deeds here will be seen as foundation of this new era, and I would say we have done well."
"Done well, and done just in time," said Miss Armstrong, looking considerable improved already. "That… thing has been a cataclysm waiting to happen since the prison was built, maybe even before. We're lucky you UNCLE folks came along when you did. I know I am."
"I don't know if I'd call it luck," Abigail said thoughtfully. "The Shawnee believed that our 'Watchers' got their gifts from the Earth herself; that she calls them and their Protectors into being when the tribe's need is great. Your family, Mr Holden, came to the Chillicothe valley just about the time the protective artifacts were removed from the old mounds, and according to your grandfather, that's when the first Guides started to appear in the Holden family line. In short, I don't believe that any of this is coincidence."
"Speaking of the protective artifacts," Napoleon said. "Our director told me that your tribal council should be hearing from someone at the British Museum soon. It's been impressed upon them the importance of these items being back where they belong."
Abigail's jaw actually dropped open at this news, and her Sentinel wrapped an arm around her to tug her her close. "You see, Guide?" Miss Armstrong said. "What must happen, will happen."
Before they left Chillicothe, the four agents agreed to return for whatever rededication ceremony the Shawnee would surely perform once the artifacts were back in their possession, assuming they were able. Napoleon had a feeling they would be. He also had a feeling he'd be hearing more about Sentinel Prides cropping up around the US. He and Illya didn't leave any of this out of their reports on the concluded affair, but Waverly did not raise the issue once during their post mission debrief.
Napoleon thought he would be relieved not to have to discuss it, but afterward he found himself beset with questions about this omission. Illya, of course, was happy to let it drop, but Napoleon couldn't. He caught the old man in his office just before they left for the day and raised the issue himself.
"I confess that I am perplexed," he said as Waverly got his hat and coat. "That you didn't question our entirely extra-curricular establishment of a non-UNCLE related organization while on an UNCLE mission. I don't by any means think that what we did was wrong, but we weren't at all certain if you'd be pleased about it or not."
They'd come down the hall to the elevators as he spoke, and found Illya waiting there. Waverly pulled on his pipe for a moment, waiting for their car to come. "You must realize, Mr Solo, we're used to Sentinels having their own networks and hierarchies where I come from," he said at last. "When I determined to employ Sentinels and Guides at UNCLE, I knew that I'd have to give them leeway to manage their own Sentinel affairs, even as UNCLE agents."
The elevator arrived and they all stepped inside, Waverly pausing in his pipe smoking. "Sentinel business and UNCLE business are two separate things, but I am quite convinced they are mutually supportive," he continued. "Having established Prides in North America can only further UNCLE's goals, I would say, but how you go about it is entirely up to you. Inasmuch as UNCLE supports this goal, however, I imagine that you and Mr Kuryakin will find yourselves with a higher proportion of North America based affairs in the near future, if you have no objection."
Illya and Napoleon exchanged glances as the car slowed. "None whatsoever, sir," Illya said as Napoleon beamed. Waverly bid them goodnight then and two agents made their way out to the lobby and to then the street.
"I confess to finding it somewhat ironic, that a supposedly rational, Soviet Russian has become the Alpha Sentinel of North America," Illya said after a while. "And if I take Miss Blackfish seriously, I must additionally assume that something is somehow 'meant' by it."
"You mean, something like East and West should come together to make the world a better place?" Napoleon asked, leaning up against his Sentinel affectionately. "Welcome to the revolution, tovarisch."
=FIN=
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
What was real:
The Ohio town of Chillicothe (pronounced Chil-le-koth-ee)
Mound City Group National Monument (Now the Hopewell Culture Historical Park)
-including the history of the site, its use as a military base and the removal of
artifacts to the British Museum
The National Speleological Society (aka, 'the Grotto')
The Shawnee Indians, who really did originally live in that area
The golf course (Forest E Everhart Memorial Golf Course, open since 1940)
A 'Deadman cave' does exist in the Chillicothe area, but not where I placed it
The Trail of Tears most certainly did happen, but the Shawnee were not among tribes
who were forced onto it (though individual natives of other tribes and mixed
descent were probably also caught up)
Space Food Sticks
What was not:
The State Prison exists near Chillicothe now, but was not there in the 1960s
Any of the native myths and legends in this story
The Shawnee lawsuit for objects excavated from the mounds (there are a number of similar lawsuits ongoing in the US and Canada, but I made this one up.)
Any of the businesses or buildings in Chillicothe
Ancient, mind-controlling alien monsters trapped underground in the American midwest
-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin, April Dancer/Mark Slate (background)
Warning: This is the chapter with the graphic sex.
Chapter Index
Prologue: ...his Unspeakable Name...
Act 1:...something must have brainwashed them.
Act 2: ...There's something not right here...
Act 3: ...a little bird told me.
Act 4: Your Guide has found you!
Epilogue: ...a good beginning.
Act IV: "...a good beginning."
The four UNCLE agents stopped by the hospital first thing after breakfast the next morning, to find Sentinel Armstrong finishing her own breakfast with her new Guide at her side. They were holding off the bonding they clearly were craving until Miss Armstrong had recovered from severe dehydration and malnourishment, so the hospital was restricting their visitors. They happily welcomed Mark, April, Illya and Napoleon, however.
"I can't begin to thank you enough," the Sentinel said, once they'd all crowded in to her room. "Abigail explained to me that you'd come for your own Sentinels, but you must permit me some gratitude. I wouldn't have held out much longer, and my Guide could never have found me without your help."
"Well, without your Guide's knowledge none of us would have been found," Illya replied.
"All true," April said. "Mark explained to me what you taught him about Guides working together. You know, we've worked with Sentinels and Guides all over the world and I've never heard of anything like it."
Abigail looked up with surprise to hear this, but soon glanced back down to where she and her Sentinel's hands were clasped. "We are all where we are meant to be, my Guide teacher often said to me," she said. "I have come to realize as well that there might have been more to my choice of Deadman cave as a study site."
"It was explained to me, by that wise old Sentinel back in Germany," Napoleon said. "That our spirit guides tell us things, even when we can't see or hear them."
"Even when you don't believe they exist at all," Illya added.
"I imagine there's a story to go with that which I hope to hear some day," Miss Armstrong said. "But probably more excitement than the nurses will approve for now." Abigail nodded and the four UNCLE agents took that as their cue to depart.
They'd arranged to meet at the police station next, along with the four Guides who'd taken part in the rescue, and their Sentinels. When they got there, Napoleon was not surprised to find that it was officer Cranston, the Sentinel, who'd been put in charge of closing the case.
"So I've just gotten off the phone with the Grotto," he began. "They've agreed to declare the whole Deadman Cave area geologically unstable and list the cave as unsafe and closed. County road crews will patch over the gap in the culvert sometime next week."
"And the State Prison?" asked Mark.
"The Feds, along with some other fellows in suits that we can only assume are connected to your bunch," officer Cranston nodded towards the UNCLE agents, "showed up late last night and sealed off the whole area. They say the situation is under control and we'll be notified of anything we need to know."
The reactions of the five Sentinels and six Guides sitting around the table varied from relieved to worried to dissatisfied, but none of them seemed to feel that the situation was entirely resolved.
"I believe our Miss Blackfish would remind us all," Napoleon spoke up, "that our duty here, as Sentinels and Guides, will not be concluded as long as the monstrosity below Chillicothe still lives. May I presume that I am currently addressing all the known Sentinels and Guides from this area, with the exception of Miss Blackfish and her Sentinel?" He was answered with nods all around.
"In the nomenclature of European Sentinel and Guide councils," he continued, "Illya and I would be considered 'Alphas', by reason of the natural strength of our gifts. Now my Russian Sentinel here does not hold with hierarchies overmuch, so you may take from this that we do not believe that this position gives us any rights to command other Sentinels and Guides, but rather responsibilities, to see to it that Sentinels and Guides in our territory are protected and respected, to assure that where a Sentinel is needed, one can be found, and to be honest arbiters when conflicts arise between us."
"Okay, I got no problem with any of that," said Omer Gosling, Dahlia Smart's Sentinel. "But what is your fella's 'territory' exactly? Dahlia, she says you're stronger than any Guide she ever met, but you're not exactly from around these parts."
"You're right about that," Illya answered him. "And until we meet anyone stronger, I'd say that our region would be the whole of North America."
"But… he's a Rooskie!" objected Spencer Railing. His Guide, Lindy Beldavs, silenced him with a scathing look.
"It's how he was raised," she apologised. "He'll come around once I've explained things."
"It's hard in a little town like this one," Officer Cranston said, "for folks to trust outsiders or to get used to new ideas."
"Naturally," Napoleon said. "And you shouldn't have to. Not if we organise things properly. Illya and I have our own work cut out for us, and we don't need to be managing every Sentinel in the US and Canada. You should have a local Alpha, and honestly, Officer Cranston, it ought to be you, but you're going to have to make one important change."
The police officer had been nothing but calm and collected throughout all their dealings with him, but now his eyes went wide and he flashed an almost panicked glance in the direction of Ricky Holden. "Do you have any idea what a scandal it was when Dahlia and Omer got together?" he asked. "The KKK actually held a rally at a nearby farm, just because she was black and he was white. I could lose my job if people knew…"
"As regional Alpha you won't be able to keep your bonded Guide a secret," Napoleon replied. "And if you do get fired because your bonded Guide happens to be male, the Chillicothe Police Department is going to find itself the subject of a Justice Department investigation, which will probably result in their having to chose a new Chief of Police. That is exactly the kind of thing that will come under our purview as Alpha Sentinel and Guide pair of North America."
With a sigh, Ricky Holden now stood and walked around to table to sit beside his distressed Sentinel, taking his hand in his two. "I told you, Ted," he said softly. "The locals, they don't know 'cause they don't want to know, but you can't hide this kinda thing from other Sentinels."
"How long have you two been together?" April asked kindly.
"Couple of years now," Ricky said. "We tried at first to pretend it wasn't happening, but in the end we just couldn't."
"I know how that goes, believe me," Illya said sympathetically. At this Officer Cranston looked up in surprise.
"Lord, I thought I was the only Sentinel in the world dumb enough to try and deny his own Guide," he said, making Napoleon laugh out loud.
"Let us take you out for a beer after you come off duty," Napoleon said. "We have a story I think you'll enjoy hearing. In the meantime, as UNCLE agents and Sentinels and Guides, our last duty here is to make sure that the monstrosity under Chillicothe never goes unwatched. As your Guide was there with us and saw the thing we saw, you have a good idea of just why this is so critical. Do you accept this charge?"
"I do understand," the police officer said earnestly. "And I accept the charge. That means I can put other local Sentinel and Guides on watch as well, yes?"
"Absolutely," Illya said. "And I'd say you would do well to spread the idea, of local Sentinels and Guides in other areas organizing and forming their own groups. I imagine Miss Blackfish would be willing to help in that regard."
Cranston nodded. "I bet it'll catch on pretty quick," he said. "Seems like we ought to have had this kinda thing some time ago."
"You're not wrong about that, guv," said Mark. "I wouldn't be surprised if it catches on like a bloomin' wildfire."
Napoleon didn't think he'd be surprised either. In fact it already all seemed meant to be.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
They all met once more a couple of days later, before the UNCLE agents left, in the hospital gardens. They were already calling themselves the Chillicothe Pride, though no one could think of who'd used the term first. Over the past 24 hours, the UNCLE agents had filed their initial reports with UNCLE, tied up all their loose ends with the local police, and had seen to it that Dan and Luther would each receive a Citation of Merit from the National Speleological Society for taking part in a cave rescue, and a full scholarship to the Colorado School of Mines as a token of appreciation from UNCLE itself.
In addition they'd convinced state authorities not to close the Chillicothe Penitentiary, but merely to ban Sentinels from either working or serving time there, and to promise to keep at least one Guide on staff at all times. This ingratiated the agents to the townsfolk to the point that their money was practically no good in any shop in town, but also did much to bolster the image of the local Pride, even when officer Cranston announced the identity of his Guide.
"Our police chief didn't speak to me for a whole day after the news came out," he said to the group sitting on the grass beside a bed of climbing roses. "But he had to watch half the folks in town come by to congratulate us and wish us the best while he sat in his office and sulked. We think he's fixin' to retire at the end of the year."
"Any idea who's going to replace him?" April asked only a little pointedly.
"Ain't supposed to talk about it," the officer said, looking away as his Guide leaned up to kiss his cheek.
"It's a good beginning for us," Abigail said. "And for all Sentinels of the New World. Our beginning here in Chillicothe is also the beginning for a new era for Sentinels and Guides in the Americas. Our deeds here will be seen as foundation of this new era, and I would say we have done well."
"Done well, and done just in time," said Miss Armstrong, looking considerable improved already. "That… thing has been a cataclysm waiting to happen since the prison was built, maybe even before. We're lucky you UNCLE folks came along when you did. I know I am."
"I don't know if I'd call it luck," Abigail said thoughtfully. "The Shawnee believed that our 'Watchers' got their gifts from the Earth herself; that she calls them and their Protectors into being when the tribe's need is great. Your family, Mr Holden, came to the Chillicothe valley just about the time the protective artifacts were removed from the old mounds, and according to your grandfather, that's when the first Guides started to appear in the Holden family line. In short, I don't believe that any of this is coincidence."
"Speaking of the protective artifacts," Napoleon said. "Our director told me that your tribal council should be hearing from someone at the British Museum soon. It's been impressed upon them the importance of these items being back where they belong."
Abigail's jaw actually dropped open at this news, and her Sentinel wrapped an arm around her to tug her her close. "You see, Guide?" Miss Armstrong said. "What must happen, will happen."
Before they left Chillicothe, the four agents agreed to return for whatever rededication ceremony the Shawnee would surely perform once the artifacts were back in their possession, assuming they were able. Napoleon had a feeling they would be. He also had a feeling he'd be hearing more about Sentinel Prides cropping up around the US. He and Illya didn't leave any of this out of their reports on the concluded affair, but Waverly did not raise the issue once during their post mission debrief.
Napoleon thought he would be relieved not to have to discuss it, but afterward he found himself beset with questions about this omission. Illya, of course, was happy to let it drop, but Napoleon couldn't. He caught the old man in his office just before they left for the day and raised the issue himself.
"I confess that I am perplexed," he said as Waverly got his hat and coat. "That you didn't question our entirely extra-curricular establishment of a non-UNCLE related organization while on an UNCLE mission. I don't by any means think that what we did was wrong, but we weren't at all certain if you'd be pleased about it or not."
They'd come down the hall to the elevators as he spoke, and found Illya waiting there. Waverly pulled on his pipe for a moment, waiting for their car to come. "You must realize, Mr Solo, we're used to Sentinels having their own networks and hierarchies where I come from," he said at last. "When I determined to employ Sentinels and Guides at UNCLE, I knew that I'd have to give them leeway to manage their own Sentinel affairs, even as UNCLE agents."
The elevator arrived and they all stepped inside, Waverly pausing in his pipe smoking. "Sentinel business and UNCLE business are two separate things, but I am quite convinced they are mutually supportive," he continued. "Having established Prides in North America can only further UNCLE's goals, I would say, but how you go about it is entirely up to you. Inasmuch as UNCLE supports this goal, however, I imagine that you and Mr Kuryakin will find yourselves with a higher proportion of North America based affairs in the near future, if you have no objection."
Illya and Napoleon exchanged glances as the car slowed. "None whatsoever, sir," Illya said as Napoleon beamed. Waverly bid them goodnight then and two agents made their way out to the lobby and to then the street.
"I confess to finding it somewhat ironic, that a supposedly rational, Soviet Russian has become the Alpha Sentinel of North America," Illya said after a while. "And if I take Miss Blackfish seriously, I must additionally assume that something is somehow 'meant' by it."
"You mean, something like East and West should come together to make the world a better place?" Napoleon asked, leaning up against his Sentinel affectionately. "Welcome to the revolution, tovarisch."
=FIN=
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
What was real:
The Ohio town of Chillicothe (pronounced Chil-le-koth-ee)
Mound City Group National Monument (Now the Hopewell Culture Historical Park)
-including the history of the site, its use as a military base and the removal of
artifacts to the British Museum
The National Speleological Society (aka, 'the Grotto')
The Shawnee Indians, who really did originally live in that area
The golf course (Forest E Everhart Memorial Golf Course, open since 1940)
A 'Deadman cave' does exist in the Chillicothe area, but not where I placed it
The Trail of Tears most certainly did happen, but the Shawnee were not among tribes
who were forced onto it (though individual natives of other tribes and mixed
descent were probably also caught up)
Space Food Sticks
What was not:
The State Prison exists near Chillicothe now, but was not there in the 1960s
Any of the native myths and legends in this story
The Shawnee lawsuit for objects excavated from the mounds (there are a number of similar lawsuits ongoing in the US and Canada, but I made this one up.)
Any of the businesses or buildings in Chillicothe
Ancient, mind-controlling alien monsters trapped underground in the American midwest