Driving back to Farmington as darkness set in, the three were solemn and quiet.

"It's so criminal," Tuwa finally said. "How they've kept the truth from the world."

"Did you expect anything less?" Michael asked. "After seventy years of covering things up out here?"

"But why do they keep that up?" Blake asked them, knowing the question was obvious and yet futile.

"It's still complicated," Michael said. "During the Truman presidency, just after the War, and when the sightings spiked, it was decided the general public wouldn't be able to handle another existential threat. One so massive as a worldwide invasion."

"They were so off the mark on what the aliens were doing here," Tuwa chimed in.

"Just plain paranoia," Michael weighed in. "The group Truman called together to make that decision, the Majestic Twelve, were considered experts of the day. Military men and political cronies, mostly. And then there was the religious thing," he continued. "Alien presence, known by the government by then . . . well it  just didn't fit in anywhere with the dominant faiths in America. "

"Times have changed," Tuwa added. The public wants to know. And they suspect heavily they've been lied to. And for far too long."

"Even NASA has been changing its tune, these past years," Michael added. "Their acknowledging, almost endorsing the reality that we might not be alone in the universe. I see it as some kind of preparation for a full disclosure at some point. "

"The photos sent back from the moon probes and images from the Mars Landers have been finally sanitized of their NASA alterations, giving people a better picture."

"Exactly. It's a truer look at what's been going on in or solar system for a lot longer than the history books or science courses tell us."

Tuwa, holding the Jeep steady on the long dark road chimed back in. "They can to longer hide those amazing images of the Martian surface being unlocked by photo experts these days. For years NASA had been reducing the resolution and discoloring the photos sent back. They had even photoshopped out pieces of debris scattered on the surface almost everywhere the camera looked."

"They want you to believe it's the Red Planet. And have pulled it off by the filtering of those images to hide the anomalies in plain, colorful view. These are objects that tell a convincing tale of a past civilization in total destruction there."

Blake was amazed at what he was hearing, but most of all from what had happened as a result of their interaction with the US military, back at the site.

"Look Tuwa," Michael added, as they could see the distant lights of Farmington illuminating the sky. "We still have two of the discs in my backpack. There's so much more information on them. I also understood that those hundreds of discs were all carrying the same information."

"Really?" Tuwa sounded shocked.

"Yes. They were intended as duplicates for the finders . . . that would be us folks. To eventually disperse them to all the capital cities of the world. It was time for their message to arrive, as I understood."

"But now . . .?" Tuwa asked. "Now what?"

"It's still up to us. I have so much information in my head. And I understood there's so much more remaining on these remaining discs. We know how to access it now for human understanding. Through various amplified sound frequencies."

Both Blake and Tuwa remained silent.

"Look you two. Don't feel so defeated," Michael said enthusiastically. We'll go on taking all the information available to us now. I'm amazed at what things I've already learned. So much I can't wait to share!"

"Well you have a captive audience right here in the Jeep, Michael," Tuwa said, her face smiling in the dim light of the dashboard. "We're not going anywhere soon. Tell us something enlightening you leasrned."

"Alright . . . So how about first the bad news?"

"Bad?  How bad?"  Blake asked intensely.

Michaels face became more serious. "Alright. See if you can handle this . . . We all know of the risks of meteors and comets hitting our planet. Right?"

"OK. It's happened for millions of years," Tuwa responded. "Changing the whole surface of the Earth at times. Over the many millions of years it caused mass extinctions, we know."

"That's right. The last causing the demise of the dinosaurs. Only birds and insects survived that impact event."

"It was sixty-six million years ago," Tuwa informed. "And there were four other mass extinctions before that. Eight-hundred million years ago a celestial collision caused a massive polar shift of 55 degrees. Once again, destroying most the life forms on our planet."

"Well according to what I understood from . . . our new friends . . . the sixth mass extinction is coming. A massive meteor, just under the size of the moon is randomly steaming through the Galaxy . . . with Earth as its inevitable target."

"God. That's one-quarter the size of the earth itself!" Tuwa remarked.

"Jesus! When?" Blake asked loudly.

"Their calculations are . . . very soon," Michael answered. "One-hundred eighty-nine years, and fourteen days . . . that is . . . from yesterday, when we met them.

"A hundred and eighty-nine years?  Christ. At least we won't be around," Blake said.

"Yeah, but all humanity?" Michael asked. "All the living things on Earth. The sixth mass extinction for the planet? Incredibly sad and terminal information they've imparted to us."

Blake could only hear Tuwa taking a deep breath.

"So why? . . . Why are they bothering to tell us all this?" Blake asked boldly.

"They've been aware of it from the beginnings," Michael answered. "The beginnings of us. And during all their visits to our planet. To check on us."

"Are you suggesting . . ." Tuwa was whispering now.

"Yeah. The Zuni and other cultures of the world have always known this. It's in their cosmology. Their belief systems. They have listened to our creators! These visitors have been trying to elevate us. Spiritually and technologically over time. Since our very beginnings."

"Wow." Blake whispered.

"I also learned they are just one of many civilizations in our galaxy that's been interested in us. Our eventual demise. They've systematically observed our progress all these millennia. And there have been some we had to be wary of."

"So interesting," Tuwa remarked. "Completely mind-blowing!"

"But the beings we met yesterday are not our creators . . . genetically. They are something like our cousins. The ones who have tried to be our benefactors over many thousands of years. I got all this from compressed information radiating off the discs."

"Go on, Michael, please!"

"They've tried to enhance our cultures with wisdom and knowledge since ancient times. And on every continent. I was told they had hoped we would evolve fast enough to escape the on-coming destruction which awaits us . . . the sixth mass-extinction. But they've observed long ago . . . we possibly could not do so."

"But why? What happened?" Blake asked uncontrollably.

"That's probably the most incredible thing I learned," Michael said. "See, once we began showing signs of annihilating each other following our own nuclear capabilities, they began to see the urgengy. It happened early on with any and all technology at our disposal. We totally misused it for destruction. Time and energy was lost advancing for solutions. Instead of moving toward a technical and viable way to exit our planet, they realized we could not . . . would not make it in time. We simply have not gained  the progress they had hoped for us."

"My god, Michael!" Tuwa said, taking her eyes off the road to look at him.

"They informed me that all the gifts of technology, wisdom and knowledge they have given us has not helped us see or solve our celestial vulnerability. Not nearly enough to create an escape program for masses of humans to relocate off or outside out planet. We have chosen to create weapons and engage in petty and world wars instead.

Both Tuwa and Blake were stunned at the validity, but more stikingly, the sadness of this revelation.

"You see," Michael said, looking up wistfully at the dark sky out the window of the Jeep. "It's their hope that to reach the masses with the dire reality we face on Earth, there might be still time to create at least a safe, representative colony on either our moon or nearest planet to avoid total extinction of our species . . . and all their efforts."

All was silent now inside the Jeep as it cruised along the lonely stretch of roadway. The two-lane road began the gentle curves before entering the main highway back to Farmington.

Blake was deep in thought now, wondering what his deceased father had to do with these developments. It was, after all, his camerawork which had recorded the numerous lightening strikes, marking the place where the alien discs were buried. What would have been his place in this had he not been murdered. And by whom?

Suddenly, up ahead were a series of red and yellow lights seeming to block the road. As Tuwa cautiously approached, they could see it was two late model civilian vehicles with their emergency flashers on and several men in non-discernable dark uniforms standing in the road with flashlights on. They were directing them to stop.

Michael quickly reached behind him and pulled the two discs from his back pack and held them out to Tuwa.

"Put these inside your bra, Tuwa. Don't allow then to search you!"

Without pause ,Tuwa slid each of the cold metal discs up under her blouse and adjusted them to sit uncomfortably but well-hidden against each of her breasts. She pulled her light windbreaker over her chest to hide them further.

As the Jeep rolled slowly forward, not being allowed to continue on the desolate road, two of the four men came up to the Jeep, one on each side. All three inside could see they were armed with police-style handguns holstered on their belts. Their shirts and pants were black with no identifiable agency or insignia being displayed.

Blake could see when he turned around, the other two men were standing, poised behind the Jeep, in a poised position to draw their weapons in a moment if necessary.

"Good evening folks," the man standing at Tuwa's window stated curteously. "Mind if we speak to you for just a few moments?"

On Blake's side of the Jeep, the other man had his face up close to the window as well. He took a small cigar out of his mouth to speak.

"Folks, we're on a routine check," he said with a more Texan accent. "Won't take but a minute for ya'll."

Tuwa rolled her window down halfway.

"What's this all about? Are you guys with the state of New Mexico?

"No. We're federal, ma'am. On a special drug detail."

"So what do you want with us then?" she asked in a slightly hostile manner.

"We get tipped off by the locals from time to time. That this road is a major drug route. Brings in opioids and cocaine from the southern border. Then over into the central states."

Tuwa was silent. Unmoving.

"So can you tell me, ma'am, the nature of your travels out here?"

Tuwa realized if she was too evasive it would only cause more suspicion among the investigators. She also knew well what they were looking for. All three in the Jeep clearly suspected their being stopped for drugs was just a ruse. They were obviously looking for any initial or remaining discs which might have been taken from the site. The military had already taken all but the whole cache.

"Look, officer . . . you are an officer, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Special drugs and firearms detail."

"Well I'm an archaeologist and these are my fieldworkers. We were on a site survey of the area for a possible Native American midden."

"A what, ma'am?"

"A midden. An ancient refuse site. It's where past inhabitants threw their disposable refuge. We learn a lot about their culture from these finds."

"That's pretty cool, ma'am. But I' afraid I have to give your Jeep and trailer a quick search for illegal substances this evening."

Tuwa paused a moment. "So how long will this take," she finally asked cooperatively.

"Just a minute or two. Can I ask you all to get out of the vehicle?"

Tuwa knew any law enforcement agency had to have due cause to conduct a search of vehicles or persons, but did not contest it. Her strategy was to prevent the ruse from elevating their tactics into any p[physical confrontation.

"Alright officer. But we've had a long day and need to get back to Farmington.

No problem, ma'am. Just stand over there with my partner while we take a look inside."

She looked at Michael for approval and he gave a slight nod, sending them out of the Jeep to stand in the headlights. As promised the investigators quickly but thoroughly searched the contents of the trailer and interior of Tuwa's vehicle.

"Now folks if you'll just step over here under the lights so we can see your clothing . . ."

"Look," Michael said cordially but firmly. "We have submitted to probably what is an unlawful search by your team here tonight, OK? We will empty our pockets for you, but any contact or touching of us, I will film on my cell phone here or possible harassment charges to be brought to the attention of the Farmington Police Department tonight. Now can we get on with this and all go home?"

"Absolutely, sir. No need for any cameras. I see your pockets are empty of contraband and we wish ya'll a good night."

"Thank you, officers," Tuwa said with difficulty, keeping an arm inconspicuously across her chest. "We support your good work."

"Thank you, folks, the other crypto-military man said, allowing them all back in the Jeep. "And have a great evening!"

As Tuwa started back in route to Farmington, she kept looking in her rearview mirror to see if the two vehicles would follow them or drive back toward Monument Valley. As they entered the town of Farmington, the two unmarked cars came up quickly behind them and waited to see where they would stop. After Michael instructed Tuwa not to reveal the hotel where he and Blake were staying but rather stay parked near an industrial building, the mysterious vehicles sped past en route out of town to the east. They appeared to be leaving in the direction of the Apache Nation Reservation land and its various small towns.

"Where do you think they'll go? Where do you think they're stationed, Michael?"

"I've got a couple of ideas. But one pretty close-by is the most likely."

"Yeah? Where?

"The infamous Dulce Base. Just up the road," he said.

Is that bad?" Blake innocently asked.

"Could be," Tuwa responded, waiting for the two cars to disappear in the distance. "It only happens to be a secret underground military instillation."

"Yeah, and home to one of the most shocking military black-budget locations in the Southwest," Michael added.

"I'm not going to even ask about that now," Blake replied exhaustedly. "Not until I've had a full night's sleep.

* * *