That evening the three explorers returned to Farmington, worn-out emotionally as well as physically. After driving Michael and Blake back to the hotel around ten PM, Tuwa planned to return home, only promising she would come back the following morning after a good night's sleep.

"We all need rest," she said, staying at the wheel as the two climbed out of the Jeep and stood lifelessly on the sidewalk.

"I'm bringing a small cargo hauler connected to the back of my Jeep tomorrow," she said. "We have to get those discs out of where they're hiding. They're just too valuable to history to leave there now. Even for a single day."

"Alright," Michael answered. "I'm with you on that. Now that we know their use and power."

"So go get something to eat, you two," she added. "You'll need strength for tomorrow."

"There's a small taco shop nearby," Michael answered exhaustedly. "He looked down the dark street to a brightly lit building. "We'll be fine, Tuwa. And thanx for . . ."

"No prob. Good night guys."

As she drove off, Blake felt his arms, shoulders and back aching from the day of digging. But it all seemed insignificant as he could not forget the face of the alien they encountered, its large intelligent eyes—and how it seemed hauntingly semi-human.

Following a quick but voracious meal of a beer, tacos and cheese quesadas, while the two sat on a bench outside the food stand, Blake and Michael walked back silently to the hotel to rebook a room. Each took a hot shower and remarked that their skin, exposed to the sun all day, was especially tinted and sensitive with sunburn. Blake complained about the discomfort of it as he got into bed.

"It's something more," Michael said before falling into his own bed naked. "I know regular sunburn when I feel it. This is something else we were exposed to inside the craft. Probably due to the intense energy. Those high intensity vibrations applied to the discs. We got quite a dose of that ourselves."

"Yeah what do you make of that, Michael?

"It's some kind of advanced communication system. Accessed through sound frequencies. The energy flying off the discs gave me some kind of compressed information. And very clearly. I got feelings and information without any need for language. It's universal in that sense."

"Wow."

"Those discs are obviously some sort of storage system. Like silent books of info. And I can remember all of it. Like some kind of test I've studied weeks for."

"That's too weird.," Blake said, lightly touching the sensitive skin on his arms. "But you're gonna have to tell the whole world what you learned, Michael . . . before you sleep it off forever."

"Hardly." He smiled. "I feel like I can recite it all anytime . . . and in great detail, Blake."

"Whatever, man. Just make sure you do it sometime soon, alright? So I guess we're going out there again . . . tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. We've got to take ownership of that stuff. No delays."

"Well right now, I don't think much could stop me from crashing, Michael."

Feeling his body sink into the mattress, Blake indeed fell into a deep sleep, even before he heard Michael agree with him.

Suddenly, from what seemed like only moments later, Blake awoke to the sound of his cell phone. It was still in his jeans and ringing loudly. Slowly, he reached for the chair where his dusty clothes were draped. He took out the phone on the fifth or sixth ring and could see on screen that it was Russel, calling from San Diego.

"Hey . . . Rus. What's up?"

"It's all OK, buddy. At least on this side of the world. And it's pretty obvious you're not coming to San Diego. Right? Classes begin up north in a day or so."

"Yeah . . . It seriously looks that way."

"So, what's up, man? You OK?

"Yeah. I don't know . . . just really beat up over here right now. Gotta get some sleep, Rus."

"Wait . . . So what's the matter, Blake? The Aliens get you over there?" He heard a female laugh nearby.

Blake was silent. Too tired and confused to even address the question. Or who it was that contributed the laugh.

"Naw," he finally said. "Just tired, man. We did a lot of digging today. I'm just really tired, OK?"

"No. Really. . . so what did you find?"

Blake was silent for several moments. Thinking more now about Russel not being alone and with whom.

"Hey look, Blake. I've got to talk to you . . . about . . . me and Steph sometime, OK?"

He should have been surprised with the comment, but somehow knew it had been coming. 

"Not now man. And maybe never, alright? I'll just see you back in Santa Cruz. Might be after classes start. I'm not really sure"

"What?  Hey man. Come on. What's up over there?"

"Gotta go, Rus. You guys . . . just take it slow, OK?"

He clicked off the phone before his friend could respond.

* * *

In what seemed like only moments later, Blake was being wakened by Michael, now fully dressed and shaking his bare shoulder.

"Come on, California boy! Tuwa's waiting for us in the dining area."

"Shit, Michael . . . What time is it?"

"After ten. I let you sleep awhile."

"Jesus. . . . Not nearly enough."

"Come on my friend. The desert is waiting. Tuwa's got our breakfast laid out, she says. Juice . . . coffee. . . hot rolls. A feast!"

"Michael . . . just tell me  that was all a dream yesterday. I mean. . .Did we really . . ."

"Yes, we did, Blake. You witnessed it all. Now come on. Get dressed. Lucky for us we buried the discs only lightly. It won't be as much work for us today."

With much effort, Blake rolled out of bed, wearing only his underwear. The pain in his joints reminded him of the hours of physical work he had done some twenty-four hours before. The skin on his face and arms was still sensitive and slightly burning

Getting up, he had a craving for something, anything, to drink. After using his hands to dink from the bathroom sink and rinsing off his face, Blake reluctantly came back into the main room to put on the same clothes, all smelling dusty and pungent from his sweat the day before.

Soon the two were sitting across from Tuwa, drinking coffee and managing to eat all the rolls with butter and jam which she had prepared for them.

"I just won't be relaxed until we get all the discs . . . somewhere new," Tuwa remarked. "Hidden and protected," she added. "There could be more artifacts in that pit. Possibly further down. We'll explore that today, once we get the cache of discs into the trailer and covered up."

"That's a definite must do, Tuwa."

"Seems those objects are some kind of library, Michael. Activated only by . . ."

"Sound and vibration . . . and yeah, that's exactly what they are. I was learning so much from the energy focused on them. It was about the aliens' history with the Earth. Their attempts to help and educate us in the past. And as we know now, that happened on every continent."

Blake just stared across the table, waiting for a reaction on Tuwa's face. Yet there was no reaction, just intent listening.

"I was getting so many details during that time in the ship, " Michael went on. "And all from the powerful sounds they directed onto that table."

Tuwa was still calm, but her eyes were coaxing Michael to speak more.

"I found out their home planet is in our own galaxy. Their sun is a star like ours. The planet is slightly larger than ours, mostly water . . . and with twenty moons. All colonized."

Tuwa's eyes brightened. Blake just watched as she blinked only twice upon hearing those details.

"That lunar complex was the reason for their own ancient base-twenty number system," he went on. "It's their counting and measuring system. Used and taught to the Mayans in the Yucatan."

"Incredible," was the silent word Blake saw formed on Tuwa's lips.

"It also became the Mayan calendar measuring system," the young shaman continued. "It corresponds to their calculations and predictions of the sun and moon's present and future positions. This they did with other observable heavenly bodies . . . and a few they had no way of observing. Yet, as we know, the Maya had pinpointed the positions of those planets and stars with precise accuracy."

"Yes," Tuwa interjected. "The Maya was another culture we understand came to advanced prominence . . . and then curiously disappeared. Like the Pueblos over in Chaco Canyon, where I do my work. We now know they left by the thousands . . . and almost overnight."

"As with the Maya, they vanished long before the Spanish arrived," Michael added for Blake's understanding.

"So, are you two ready to go back to work?" Tuwa asked.

Enthusiasm seemed to be radiating from her dark eyes.

"Onward!"  Michael exclaimed, getting up from the table and slapping Blake's shoulder to follow.

* * *

As Tuwa's Jeep headed west along the highway, it had attached to it, a small utility trailer with shovels, several empty backpacks, and a tarpaulin to cover the contents of their mission. As they neared the turn-off into Monument Valley, the rust-colored rock spires came into view. Remembering the distance along the road, Tuwa soon counted on Michael to consult his cell phone for the distance to the disc pile using coordinates.

As they neared the place on the road where they had stopped before, an object appeared as a small dark speck off to the left of them. It was flying at a low altitude and parallel. Blake quickly noted that this time as  the craft neared, it looked more familiar to him. Soon all three recognized it to be a dark gray helicopter.

Nearing the spot where they had parked before, the sleek craft made a broad turn and headed in their direction. As it neared their location, they could tell it was of a military design and Michael labeled it an 'Apache assault warship,' and a possible threat to them. As it approached their position on the road it was obvious the individuals flying the craft were keenly aware of them and seemed to be observing closely while commandeering a noisy pass over.

"Jesus, Michael! What do these guys want?" Blake asked over the rumbling craft's powerful engine.

"Probably what we're up to," he said, watching the ship as it sped along in front of them over the highway and then back to make another, lower and closer pass.

"Cover your faces!" Michael shouted as the helicopter seemed to be on a collision course, head on. "Their filming us, guys!"

The assalt machine passed over them again loudly, this time by what seemed only several meters above the top of the Jeep. It passed by and at a high rate of speed, then suddenly retreated off to the right, becoming just a small dark dot in the sky again, disappearing in the direction from which it had come.

"OK . . . So we know who you are,"  Michael said, angrily. "And with a bit of luck their spy camera didn't get a good shot of our faces."

"Well, if they did," Tuwa added, "they'll eventually know very well who we are."

"Oh, Great!" Blake replied.

"Come on Tuwa. Let's just get over there and retrieve the discs. I don't think they'll return."

"Not if they've  already got our photos," she said quietly.

"You really think that's what they wanted?" Blake asked?

"For a lot of reasons . . . yes." Michael replied.

"Let's go get the artifacts," Tuwa said, her voice loud and direct.

When the group hiked in with shovels and empty backpacks to the spot where they had intended to excavate and carry their treasure out, they found to their surprise and shock, they stood before a now empty hole! 

As they looked down into the excavated pit, there was not a trace of what they had found in it the day before. The treasure which had been buried there, perhaps thousands of years before, was now taken by someone else.

Just then an ominous engine sound could be heard approaching. Its appearance blended in too well with the surroundings, but soon the cause of the noise revealed itself. Stopping in a flat area off to their right was a desert-colored military Jeep, poised in a threatening position. It was too obvious to the group that its location, so near the remarkable find, only confirmed it was a  part of the same Earthly force that had been covering up UFO revelations for over seventy years.

Michael and Tuwa stood speechless before the empty hole, knowing their nemesis, the US Government, had done it again—leaving no trace of what was now the biggest, most definitive proof of alien presence to date.

As the military jeep turned and drove into the distance, the evidence and virtual library of esoteric knowledge they had earlier found, appeared to be simply swallowed up by the warm sun and gentle breeze, softly blowing across the barren valley.

* * *