(This chapter marks the halfway point of “In the Time of Man.” The remaining chapters are all drafted and, I believe, in pretty good shape, and I will post them accordingly upon final edit. If you are just coming across this chapter, and think you might be interested in the full book, please go to “Texas to the World’s” homepage on Substack and scroll down. The first nine chapters are all listed, though you will have to click “see all” to get to the earlier ones. Below you will also find a summary of what the story is about, which will help you decide if you have interest. In the meantime, there remain many other stories I have to write and issues to analyze and contemplate, and I will keep after those and post here. - JM)
“From the Dogon Tribal villages along the Great Bend of the Niger River, to the glassy towers and glamorous lives of the American Southwest, ‘In the Time of Man’ is a story of people confronting both the history and the fate of humanity. A reporter and two scientists are determined to prove that another intelligence has been operating on planet Earth since the beginning of mankind's evolution. Humans have received external help to make it through the new millennium and there are clues there is more intervention underway as a result of a failure to manage the world's resources. Cattle are being mysteriously mutilated, people are growing inexplicably ill, and researchers trying to understand these phenomena are being threatened by a government that might just be facilitating a culling of the planet's population. Telling the truth is dangerous and love and sex can be fatal. But who is responsible for the present plagues of our world and how can they be stopped? ‘In the Time of Man’ explores the facts behind the theory that off-planet intelligences have guided humanity to its current station and that they are still engaged in determining our destiny. The essential question asked by this story is what will we know before we meet our fate? A Nobel Laureate, a decorated female TV news correspondent, and a renegade researcher all race to discover the truth and share it with the world before they are silenced, or no one will ever know what happened ‘In the Time of Man.’”
Chapter Ten
Going south out of Flagstaff, the land falls away with the rush of a river seeking sea level. The tall trees of the high plateau country begin to thin and shorten near the desert. Towns and exits off Interstate 17 roll by with only a slight touch of the accelerator. On a motorcycle or with the windows of a car lowered, you can feel the place where the cool air of the mountains curls back from the rising desert heat. Southbound travelers with their windows down can hear the easy hum of their steel belted tires.
The land becomes an obstacle, though, heading northward. The horizon is above its natural station and fills the windshield. Engines are forced to labor in three or four different gear pitches while struggling against the pull from below. The driver, whose involvement does not extend beyond the gas pedal and steering wheel, still surrenders something to the effort. By the time the Kaibab comes into view, the beauty of the Coconino National Forest and the colors of the Grand Canyon feel like a reward for the effort of the journey
The trip north was very familiar to Walter Robbins. Countless summer weekends had been devoted to a small family cabin outside of Flagstaff. He often took his daughters to the Grand Canyon hoping that, in spite of their age, the vistas might initiate them to the wonders of nature. The first time Walter had stood along the south rim and watched birds tilting and gliding close to the canyon's walls, he was envious of how intimately they must know the place, the ledges and caves and narrow trails beyond the reaches of most humans. Maybe if you knew too much, though, it took away the awe and the mystery you experienced each time you walked up to the edge of an overlook.
At the Sedona exit on Interstate 17, Walter decided to pull off for a break. Grand Junction in Western Colorado was a long trip and he was already driving in a trance. Fifteen minutes earlier, he had come within about ten feet of the rear of a motor home before he realized what was happening. His mind was almost completely distracted by events of the past weeks. He had let his life become complicated by sex. Every night since his family had departed, Walter had slept with Michelle Mina and, alone on the highway, he was finally beginning to think through the implications of his behavior.
He drove down the exit ramp and parked at a cafe and truck stop. Food might take his mind off of his situation. Not likely. Why in the hell can’t people act responsibly even when they are dealing with a powerful physical attraction? Michelle had probably never even tried to resist someone she had found attractive. Walter, however, knew he was guilty of not sufficiently trying to turn away from Michelle and her argument that they should simply accept each moment without question was a ludicrous rationalization.
When she was standing in front of him, though, with her clothes slipping off to the floor, Walter was susceptible to any type of rationale to bring her into his arms. Afterwards, he resented her control and the sense he had that she had cavalierly been through this too many times in the past. Michelle Mina was not interested in emotional attachments and Walter did not need this explained. Nonetheless, when he was awake, he was unable to think of much beyond the look of physical need in her eyes when they joined, the feel of her hair against his face, and the smell of her perfume afterwards in his clothes, which he wore home to the room where he loved his wife. During sleep, Michelle Mina also dominated the schedule of his dreams.
A large part of Michelle's sexuality was a performance and, even though he knew that, Walter's ardor was not reduced. Her femininity was both natural and a practiced consideration. Michelle knew the gestures that prompted the attentions of men, how to turn her head when listening, the sidelong placement of her legs after they had been crossed, and the combing back and lifting of her hair with splayed fingers. While making love, she surrendered in a way that made Walter feel much greater than he knew he truly was. She was joyously taking everything in life that she could and he knew that. But what he was providing felt like it rendered him less whole. Regardless, little mattered to him just then beyond his immediate need of Michelle Mina.
After eating, he got back on the highway. For most of the past week, he had considered abandoning his plan to drive to Colorado. Flying would have provided him more time to be in Phoenix with Michelle. But driving made more sense. There was nothing for him to do but think on the road and make a slower transition back to his family. The idea of leaving Michelle and arriving in Grand Junction a few hours later to be embraced by Ann made Walter confront the breadth and depth of his sin. His hope was that the solitary time on the road and the vastness of southern Utah might clear his head and give him either ideas or strength to deal with his betrayal of Ann.
On the north side of Flagstaff, Walter found Highway 89 and followed it out of the ponderosa pines into a meadow. Humphrey Peak brooded in distant blue grey clouds. He noticed the gas gauge had fallen noticeably and he intended to stop in Tuba City on the Navajo Reservation for a fill up.
He got only one call on his cell between Phoenix and Flagstaff and it was from his news director. One of KSUN’s reporters, Becky Acuna, had come across some disturbing information about a project at the old Air Force base and the news director wanted to inform Walter before the story was broadcast. Walter had trouble concentrating on anything other than his personal situation and the road but he understood the story had something to do with a disease and a Nobel Laureate scientist doing research in Phoenix. As far as he was concerned, he never got in the way of professional journalists and if the news director was comfortable with the facts the story was cleared to run.
As the road in front of him straightened and the land became level, trees disappeared and Walter saw the broad sweep of the country. A childhood on the ranch had taught him how to read the marks left by time and weather and, regardless of what bothered him, he always experienced a degree of serenity in open spaces. As he made his way through one of the most scenic places in America, however, visions of sex with Michelle were as real as the far buttes and the stands of Ponderosa pine.
Three days ago, she had invited Walter to come by her townhouse for lunch. The door was unlocked and Michelle called to him from the living room when she heard him enter. The house was almost chilly with air conditioning, even for someone like Michelle, who despised the Arizona summers. When he looked around the corner trying to find her, Walter discovered Michelle posing for him on a couch. In the middle of August, she was wearing a thigh-length fur coat with nothing underneath. Her legs were artfully crossed so the fur fell open to show the furrow running down her stomach and the coat hung against her breasts, clinging to her dark nipples. The only adornments Michelle had bothered with were diamond earrings and necklace. On her feet, she had placed a pair of white stiletto shoes with an artificial flower clipped to the toes. Walter was so taken with urgency he did not remember crossing the room to reach her but he did recall not taking the time to completely undress.
Afterwards, confronting his guilt while returning to work, he had tried to understand why he and Ann had never had such moments of lovemaking. Their passion and creativity had diminished as their children had grown. He kept thinking about how sex was something that happened between them out of physical necessity more than as a consequence of romance or love.
In Tuba City, Walter bought gas at a small convenience store. The clerk loitered defiantly as he tried to pay. Back at his car, several teenaged Navajo boys scrutinized Walter. Their dark eyes marked him as an intruder. As he turned onto Highway 160, the road became lined with low-slung adobes and cinder block homes where disabled autos were parked like yard ornaments. Heat waves rose off the orange rock landscape. Walter wondered how the Navajo lived when the topography looked like it barely sustained the cactus and rattlesnakes.
At the Holiday Inn in Kayenta, he ate dinner and lingered over a second glass of wine. The drink relaxed his sense of moral conflict. Loving two women at once did not seem an absurdity with good wine moving through him. Briefly, he considered getting a room but he doubted sleep was possible. The moon was supposed to be full and he was enchanted with the idea of driving off into the Utah night, at least once more in his life, if only for an evening, being a wanderer without a deadline.
The last of the day's sunlight lay in colored ribbons as Walter entered Monument Valley on 163. At the top of Monument Pass, before descending into Utah, the moon rose orange and full, taking dominion over the sky. Walter wished that he had planned his time better. Even with the moonlight, looking for a campsite in the dark was certain to be annoying. Turning white and stark, the moon climbed higher, amidst the few stars still surviving its glow.
He crossed the San Juan River at Mexican Hat and saw the slow and restless water winding down to near stillness before joining Lake Powell. The only light in town came from the window of a closed cantina near the river bridge. If he were to choose to drive straight through, he could reach Grand Junction sometime in the morning. He was frightened, though, that he would not be able to look Ann in the eye without her sensing his obvious change.
Instead of pushing on, Walter decided to find a spot to pull off and sleep in the back of the car. He did not have the energy to search Canyonlands National Park for a campsite. Checking the map in his dome light, he drove northeasterly, searching for an entrance to the Valley of the Gods. The sun would burn him out of the car in the morning and he planned to spend a few hours walking among the ancient rock spires before beginning a more leisurely trip to western Colorado.
He found the park road and searched for a pull off. The light from the moon was gossamer and seemed to spend itself in the air before it reached the valley floor. Dark monoliths of rock occupied big portions of the night. Circling around on the gravel road, Walter tried to get a sense of the park and the grandeur he remembered from his youth. He rolled down his window and listened to the sound of his tires popping small stones and the air coming in felt light and clean.
Walter stopped and got out to stretch his legs. He leaned against the hood and looked at the sky. Once, he had believed all nights were the same, the predictability of the world's turn and the slant of the stars were a steady, reliable magic. In the northern distance, off in the direction of another national park, light moved low along the horizon. He turned his head upwards and stared at the moon. The surrounding stars were so few they were almost countable. Directly overhead, two red and green aircraft lights flickered westward, leaving a contrail of whiteness. Walter watched as the tracings faded into an indefinable thinness and became a part of the moonlit haze. Thirty five thousand feet into the sky, people were sleeping and eating and drinking cocktails as the plane pushed against the jet stream at 600 miles an hour on its way to Los Angeles.
From the east, another light arced into his view and then, at great speed, made an abrupt turn southerly. Initially, Walter thought it was a military aircraft. Top-secret air force planes were tested out of a hidden base in nearby Nevada. But the angle of the turn was a bit extreme for an airplane of any kind and especially at that speed. While he watched, the light pulsed from red to white and then grew significantly in size.
In August, the Earth moved through the Perseid asteroid belt and he considered that what he was seeing was a meteorite until it changed directions two more times. Suddenly, it became a speck moving slowly among the visible stars. As he followed its path, Walter had the odd sensation the light was eventually going to move in his direction. But it was shrinking rather than increasing in size and then it was gone. Scanning the far skies for a minute, he waited for the object to once more reveal itself. Impatient, he turned his attention back to the moon, which had arrived at the center of the sky.
As he lowered his gaze, Walter was distracted by an inexplicable blackness that was suddenly obscuring stars and moonlight directly overhead. The spot appeared to be a perfect absence of light, which he perceived almost as a hole in the sky. Nearly imperceptibly, it did begin to move in his direction. He was certain it was coming toward him, and he had the unsettling conviction it was coming for him.
Walter was frightened and decided to step back and get into the car. In spite of the conscious decision to leave, though, he was unable to make himself move and immediately he was becalmed. These did not seem like his true emotions. His vision blurred, making his concentration falter. The sky shifted one way and then back while his mind sought for balance and a sense of proportion in the dark.
What he saw as a bluish beam of light fell about fifty feet from him and the instant he saw it Walter realized he had been anticipating its arrival. Time got muddied and went in more than one direction. The endless landscape of southern Utah unfolded and then collapsed back onto itself and he felt the bile of disorientation thicken and grow into bitterness at the back of his throat.
The blue light was not a trick of starlight and it was coming from the dark spot above him in the sky. As it swept slowly toward him, the beam crossed the ground and made small rocks and lizards rise along its path the way he had seen dust devils stir the afternoon desert. He smelled ozone, that strange acrid scent that often enveloped Phoenix following an afternoon rain. As the ray of light closed the distance, the odor sweetened with a trace of ambrosia.
The blue cone had a physical dimension and when it touched his feet Walter knew he was surrendering to a place without memory. A feeling of near weightlessness settled upon him as if he were part of the air, he thought, foolishly, as he began to rise. Walter Robbins’ body rotated slightly as he left the ground and he watched with detached amusement as his feet dragged over the hood of the car. He had the blinking notion that he was not going upwards but that the entire world was simply falling away.
And then he thought no more.
Like.