Blake was rudely awakened the next morning by the annoying ring of Michael's phone alarm across the room.

"Hey, Blake. You awake?"

"I am now, Michael. Yeah."

"You ready to go treasure hunting today?"

"Oh yeah . . . that."

"Come on. This is going to be an amazing day. Maybe it's why I'm out here from Newhaven."

The very idea that the whole adventure wasn't a random event, but actually involved Blake himself, gave him an early morning chill. The thought that the beings who spoke to Michael the day before might have somehow known of what would transpire or eventually come to pass, caused his heart to beat faster.

"Jesus, Michael. Don't say stuff like that. But really. What do you think we're going to find out there?"

"Can't really say. But something pretty significant, definitely. Probably buried. And as planned, long-waiting to be extracted and revealed. It's a message of some kind . . . that's all I got."

"Great . . ."

"So, let's go, California boy. Let's find out why your father photographed so many lightening hits at that piece of desert, and  so many times. It's got to be a marker . and thanks to him, we have the coordinates."

With that, Blake saw Michael jump out of bed naked and walk across the floor into the bathroom. With his long crow-black hair spread across his back and shoulders, and with no clothing, he looked totally primitive. Totally appearing the part of the young Native American shaman, which Blake understood he truly was.

"I'll be just be a minute,"  Michael said, passing through the doorway. "We'll get dressed and go down to see the breakfast you get here, compliments of a forty-dollar-a night room."

Blake smiled. "I'm not expecting much," he said, getting out of bed and slipping on his same jeans and sweatshirt.

Soon, while downstairs, the two had almost finished the cold rolls and watery orange juice, when Tuwa entered the dining area. By nine o'clock, as planned, she spotted them and approached, pouring herself some coffee and speaking cordially and familiarly to the lone waitress. She then sat across from the two and smiled at each with her fresh, tanned face.

"You two don't look so great this morning," the physically-fit woman said, her dark, slightly greying hair tied back into a single, thick braid. She wore khaki work pants, a pair of serious boots, and a white cotton top, open at the neck and sporting a delicate turquoise stone neckless.

"Yeah? Well you look marvelous, professor," Michael said, sipping the last of his coffee. "As usual, Tuwa . . . So are you ready to do some digging today? It's what we know you do best, Dr. Ahote."

The archaeologist paused and smiled.

"You'd probably be surprised to know what other things I do best," she said softly, feigning a seductive voice in response.

Michael was noticeably amused, smiling back at her. But the comment only made Blake think about what he didn't want to think about—what might be going on back on the California coast. With Stephanie, and supposedly, his best friend, Russel.

"Well now that you mention that," Michael said, looking at her playfully, "It brings up something maybe we need to explore one day . . . or perhaps one night. Under the stars, professor?"

Tuwa laughed. "Wow. Just listen to Mr. Hopeful, here, Blake," she quipped, while winking at him.

Michael laughed back at her, then waxed more serious while getting up from the table. It signaled the real mission was about to begin.

As the three went out onto the dusty street and got into Tuwa's silver Jeep Explorer, they headed out of town, westward on highway 163, towards Monument Valley. As they approached the Arizona border, the sun was already cooking-up and they watched the terrain outside turn to a deep rust color. It was a dreamlike and lifeless world they had entered, with the monolithic sandstone spires looming unbelievably tall nearby.

As the air conditioner hummed inside the Jeep, Tuwa asked Michael about his new life in the Northeast. During this time, Blake continually watched the blue horizon off to his right, half-expecting to see a silver disk again appear, floating above the desert floor parallel to them. 

After half an hour of nearing the bluffs and spires, they entered the heart of the majestic valley with the steep rock formations seemingly close enough to touch, dwarfing Tuwa's vehicle. Cruising along the serpentine road, Michael got a call on his cell phone. It was Dan, the Navajo Ranger from the nearby Kayenta reservation.

"Yeah, Dan. We're in the valley right now. Where are you guys?

He and Tuwa could hear Dan's voice easily, as Michael put the call on broadcast mode.

"We're just past the tallest, two-chimney rock," Dan shouted back. We're in Jasper's white Dodge pick-up . . . I think I see you guys now."

In the distance ahead, parked along the side the lonely ribbon of road, was indeed the truck Dan was calling from. As Tuwa decelerated and pulled up behind Jasper, all got out and gathered in the bright sunlight to discuss the plan.

Jasper and Dan were dressed for digging, wearing faded jeans, work boots and oversized plaid cotton shirts. Dan sported a Scottsdale Scorpions baseball hat, and Jasper had a decorative red and green headband to hold back his long gray hair. In the back of the truck, Blake could see a pile of shovels, picks, work gloves and a few boxes, along with a large ice chest. Everyone but Blake was wearing sunglasses, and he quickly could see why, as the mid-morning desert sun was painfully intense. It made the colors of the sky and sandstone spires above them overwhelmingly vivid.

After greetings, Michael produced from his pocket a piece of paper with Earth -map coordinates on it. He then accessed his Smartphone and clicked on an app that was a GPS locator. Carefully typing in the longitude and latitude data recorded by Blake's father, which he and Blake  had found hidden in one of the notebooks amid the photos, a digial directional map appeared on screen which Michael peered at attentively.

"From our position, here," he said, "we follow the road another . . . two point three kilometers and then we have to hike in. Southeast . . . for about another kilometer and a half. We'll get more precise coordinates from there."

Everyone was silent and Jasper nodded in satisfaction.

* * *

By twelve noon, the expedition had driven as close as they could to the designated site and then hiked overland to the exact place Michael's coordinates showed: 36°59'01.9" N Latitude; 110°05'09.6" W Longitude. Aside from the whole area looking a bit lighter than the rust-color surroundings, it did not seem significantly different from the dry barren desert which it was a part of in all directions.

They had carried with them the hand tools and ice chest, presumably and hopefully to Blake, filled with cold drinks. Tuwa carried a sizable blue backpack and when they arrived at the place to excavate, she produced from it a nylon, portable blue tent with collapsible aluminum poles. When quickly assembled, it was open on all sides but shielded anyone under it from the intense sunlight. Obviously she understood the intolerant terrain and harsh conditions to work in.

Michael previewed the specific area carefully with his smart phone in hand. 

"This app will pinpoint directional Earth coordinate within two meters of its target," he said loudly for the group's benefit.

Satisfied he had located the very spot where indeed there was some evidence of darkened surface stones, ostensibly from hundreds of lightning strikes, he made a circle  with his bootheel the size of a car as to where to begin digging. 

Without any discussion, Dan and Jasper picked up tools and began digging at the center of the circle. They discarded the excess dirt outside Michael's boundary. Blake followed suit with a pick, striking the relatively soft sandstone crust to loosen it for the shovels to remove. Tuwa also commandeered a shovel, and soon all were working with enthusiasm. Reaching roughly a meter of depth, there came a sound of metal being struck by one of the implements, giving them all a reason to stop. 

Tuwa was first to reach into the earth with her gloved hand and extricate what appeared to be a flat circular disc the size of a computer DVD. With excitement they all gathered around her while she brushed the dry sandstone powder off the small object. Soon appearing in her hands was greenish metal disk with a central, diamond-shaped hole. 

Blake excitedly reached down in the cavity and extricated a similar disc, and doing the same cleaning, brought it close to Tuwa's for comparison. The two round objects were of identical size and shape, but upon close juxtaposition, they each had what appeared to be a series of differing letter-like symbols embossed on each. The small discs with emblems were undecipherable and greatly intrigued everyone while being passed around and viewed carefully.

Placing both discs carefully on a box under the protection of the nylon tent, Tuwa urged everyone to continue digging. And feverishly they did for the next two hours, exposing a cache of the circular objects easily numbering in the hundreds. From the way the curious objects were buried, it was obvious they had been collected and stored over time under the ground at this very point for future deciphering.

By late afternoon, standing in front of the pit they had created, and the place struck by lightning numerous times over the years, the group was exhausted but in the presence of something that only created more questions than answers. 

As they decided to cover the collection of discs with a light layer of fresh earth, hiding it before leaving to return later—and for more work and better preparation, they all caught sight of something Blake had long expected would return from the sky. For several seconds they all witnessed the silver object only several football fields of distance away and hovering silently only tens of meters above the ground.

As if waiting for their acknowledgement of visual contact, the elliptical silver craft, keeping its position steady above the desert floor, finally shot upward thousands of feet in the hot air. Then, in an instant, it quickly vanished into the white and pristine clouds.

* * *