Star Gift

Chapter Nineteen

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.