The Return into the Deep

By Kathleen Martin

When Mike Aul receives an urgent summons from Arthur White Horse, asking for his help, he’s forced to weigh out the consequences. Still dealing with the nightmares from his last trip to the Navajo Indian Reservation, ten months earlier, he finds himself torn between answering Arthur’s urgent call, and keeping his sanity. But, considering Arthur a good friend, he decides to throw caution to the wind, and catches the first flight to Arizona. He thinks he’ll be building a goat pen. However, what Arthur has in mind is much more demanding, than pounding nails! When the young tattoo artist arrives at Arthur’s home on the “Rez”, he’s met with dire news.
“Black Fox is missing!” Arthur tells him.
Mike is taken aback! Black Fox is a name that lived only in 1830, and in his past life as Two Ponies. Not in 2017! In reality, the old Hopi shaman passed on nearly two centuries earlier! How can he now be considered missing? What happens next, sends Mike on an adventure that nearly costs him his life, and he’s forced to rethink everything he’s ever known about the world around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Dec 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798765231050

Kathleen Martin

Kathleen Martin's first Novel "Penny Maybe" was published in Canada and Germany. She is also a Gemini-nominated writer for film and an award-winning playwright.  She lives in Phoenix, Arizona.

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Copyright © 2023 Kathleen Martin.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

This book is meant for entertainment purposes only.

Any reference to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3104-3 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3106-7 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3105-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022912822

Balboa Press rev. date:  12/30/2022

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

I wish to offer my sincere apologies to the Navajo and Hopi

nations for any liberties I may have taken in regards to their beliefs.

This book is intended for entertainment purposes only

This book is meant for entertainment purposes only.

Any reference to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Mike, when you were a small boy, I promised you adventures. And we went on quite a few until you moved away at age 14, and they came to an end. I missed them! Then, in 2019, I got the idea to write you into an adventure. That’s when Called Back-A Tale of Two Worlds was born. By using you as a character in my story, I could once again send you on a magical trip into the unknown if only in the pages of my book. Now, I’ve written you The Return-Into The Deep, and I hope you’ll see it as your greatest adventure yet! I’ll love you forever, my son. Enjoy the ride!

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CHAPTER 1

M ike stepped into his dark apartment and shed his jacket. In the past, he’d always left the entry light on when he’d planned on working late, but he forgot again. Sighing heavily, he fumbled in the dark for the light switch. Of course, he usually left his job at the Spiral Tattoo shop by 8:00 pm, and it was now after 10. Removing his black lace-up boots, he wearily made his way up the five steps to his kitchen and living area. The heat felt good after his cool walk home. It was only four blocks, but even in late May, southeastern Michigan still fell into the 50’s after sunset.

He brewed a cup of instant coffee in his favorite mug that announced, PAINTERS DO IT IN COLOR. Since he’d skipped dinner, he poured in a generous amount of milk. Retreating into the livingroom, he sat down at his paint table and settled in for a couple of hours of uninterrupted work. This area of his small two bedroom apartment was his sacred place, his Zen. It was here, he created his Native American spiritual paintings. Several of his earlier creations now sat four deep along the wall.

He usually enjoyed the quiet stillness of his apartment after a long day of tattooing. But when he painted, he needed to listen to music. The louder the better. Tonight he chose one of the heavy metal bands he’d enjoyed listening to in the nineties. His mom called it head bangin’ music. Tuning his iPhone to his favorite website, he slipped in his earbuds.

On the canvas in front of him, was the profile outline of a Native American’s head. At the moment, the man lacked features. Was he thinking of Gray Wolf? He didn’t know yet. Behind the ghostly head, the rough sketches of a massive boulder were beginning to take shape. After his ordeal as Two Ponies, he’d painted several of the images from his trip back in time. It was his best work, for sure. The one in front of him was just the latest of his creations. With those paintings, though, the images tumbled into his mind faster than he could move his brush. This particular painting, however, didn’t seem to have a direction. The details trickled in, bit by bit, like assembling pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. Why was this one being so difficult? What story was this painting trying to tell him? Still not sure of the identity of the Native American, he decided to concentrate on the massive boulder behind him. When the image of a secret doorway spilled into his mind, he picked up his brush.

When he finally rinsed it out two hours later, he smiled down at his canvas. He’d filled in the details of the boulder’s face and added the secret passageway into the rock. The face of the Native American, however, still floated unidentified in front of it like a pale balloon. Knowing he could go no further, he leaned his painting against the wall to dry. Stretching, his eyes fell on the untouched mug of coffee on the table beside him. It was cold, of course. I’ll just nuke it, he thought. I live on nuked coffee. When he reached for it, he froze. Resonating rings rippled outward across its milky surface. Did he have a call coming in? Since his iphone was on vibrate, he picked it up and looked at the screen. All that displayed was a picture of the hair band screaming into his ears. Was Ann Arbor experiencing an earthquake? Baffled, he removed his earbuds. That’s when he heard the low rhythmic tones of the now familiar Navajo earth drum.

With each beat of the drum, the sound grew louder until he could feel the pounding against the bottoms of his feet. Not again, he thought. When it suddenly stopped, the abrupt silence was broken only by the tinny sound of the electric guitar blasting from the earbuds in his hand. Then his iphone buzzed and the name Penny White Horse displayed on the screen. His first thought was that something had happened to Arthur. Silencing the electric guitar, he answered her call.

Hello, Penny, he said, his heart pounding. Has something happened to Arthur?

No, my grandfather is fine, she replied. I’m sorry to be calling so late, Mike. I forgot that you’re three hours ahead of Arizona. It must be 1:00 in the morning for you.

It’s actually only 12:45 a.m., he mused. Besides, I’m the proverbial night owl. What’s up?

Arthur urgently needs your help, replied Penny. Can you come out to the Rez as soon as possible?

Your timing is great, replied Mike. I just happen to have the next three days off. Can you tell me what is so urgent?

I’d rather let my grandfather explain it to you, Penny replied.

It doesn’t matter, he said. Arthur is a friend. If he’s in need, I’ll be there as soon as I can arrange it.

Thank you! exclaimed Penny. I’ll tell my grandfather you’re coming. Let me know when you’ll arrive. You know how to find us. Goodnight, Mike.

Goodnight, Penny, he said, before ending the call. Now what? he thought, running his hand back through his thick, dark hair. Was he out of his mind? He’d just agreed to return to the Navajo Indian Reservation. After ten months, he was still experiencing bizarre dreams after Arthur sent him 186 years into the past, to relive a previous life. But Arthur needed his help, and despite his unsettling encounter, he would answer his call. Getting to his feet, he decided to freshen up before calling the airlines.

After a quick shower, he filled his hand with shaving cream and lathered his face. As he pulled his razor over his chin, his eyes fell to his chest where Jin’s Q-link lay against his bare skin. A gift from the Arcturian to Two Ponies, it was the only item from 1830 that had miraculously followed him back to 2016. Dangling from a thin, sturdy cord was a small round silver ring slightly larger than his thumb nail. Inlaid within the silver ring, was a yolk-colored disc divided by three black broken circles. The fact that it existed at all still amazed him. He discovered it on the rear view mirror of his Jeep at the Little Painted Desert Park where he’d stopped on his way back to Phoenix. Unable, or unwilling, to try and unravel the mystery, he’d simply chocked it up to Arthur’s magic. To this day, he still kept the promise Two Ponies made to Jin all those years ago. He’d never taken it off.

Rinsing his face, he again wondered why Arthur White Horse would need his help. If his need was to repair his roof or build another goat pen, wouldn’t Julius George be a better choice? What was so urgent that Penny felt the need to call him so late? Other then a phone call at Christmas, he hadn’t spoken to Arthur or Penny in months.

As was his custom, he was already planning the hours ahead. He would need to fly to Arizona. If Arthur needed him as soon as possible, he couldn’t waste time in driving. It had taken him and his friend Jake Moore 40 hours to make the drive from Michigan to Phoenix the previous summer.

Making his way into the kitchen, he grabbed a cold water from the fridge. Lady bug, his yellow long-haired cat, rubbed affectionately against his leg. He reached down and scratched her head. Arthur thought cats were bad luck as they could be the earthly manifestation of an evil witch known to the Navajo as a skinwalker. Her gentle purring, however, ensured him that he had nothing to fear.

Pulling his credit card from his wallet, he reached for his iPhone. Twenty minutes later, he’d booked a seat on Southwest Airlines leaving later on in the morning. Unfortunately, getting a flight on such short notice meant he’d had to pay more. This was not a problem. If Arthur needed his help, cost was not a factor. He owed the man that much. With his flight leaving at 8:30 a.m., he stretched out on the sofa to capture a couple of hours of sleep.

When his iphone’s alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., he rolled over and shut it off. His brain felt foggy from so little sleep. After splashing cold water on his face, he pulled on a fresh white t-shirt and bluejeans. Before leaving his bedroom, he plucked the small white bear amulet from the dish on his dresser. It was a gift from Arthur on his previous visit. ‘It will give you spiritual protection, and boost your courage’, Arthur had told him at the time. Not sure what lay ahead for him in the mystical land of the Navajo, he slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans.

Glancing up at his wall clock, he decided it wasn’t too early to call his buddy Jake. He knew Jake would be up getting ready for his job at the Rent-A-Car business back in Ohio. He and Jake had known each other since grade school and, to Mike, he was the kind of friend who would answer his call no matter what time it was. Even at 5:30 a.m. Besides, Jake would be intrigued to hear where he was going. On their long drive home from Arizona the previous summer, he’d entertained Jake with stories of his strange and bizarre trip to the Navajo Indian Reservation. When Jake picked up on the first ring, he greeted Mike in his usual manner.

Mike Aul, what is it this time? he asked, with a laugh. Wait. It’s not noon. What are you doing awake? Either someone died or you need to rent a car. Which is it?

Neither, replied Mike chuckling. I’m just letting you know that I’m flying to Arizona this morning. I’m returning to Dilcon to see Arthur White Horse.

What’s up? Jake asked.

I’m not sure, replied Mike. Penny called me last night and asked me to come out for a couple of days. Whatever Arthur is up to, it’s something he can’t do alone. I’m thinking he needs me to help him build something; a new goat pen perhaps.

Mike, stay out of Arthur’s goat yard! Jake warned. It’s some kind of a time portal! The last time you visited his goats, he sent you soul-surfing back into the past where you were attacked by a flying snake and her dog.

"It was a walking snake, said Mike. And it wasn’t a dog. It was an alien wolf. Listen, Jake, I have no intentions of allowing Arthur to send me back into the past again. I’ve had enough vision quest for one life time. I’m just going out to lend him a hand."

Well, thanks for the heads up, said Jake. "Call me when you get home. Maybe I’ll drive up next weekend and let you try out my new computer game, Alien Conquest II."

That sounds like fun, said Mike laughing. I can’t wait. It’ll probably be more exciting than my visit to Arthur’s. Later, Jake.

Later, Mike.

After a quick bowl of cornflakes and a cup of instant black coffee, he gathered his things for the trip west. Pulling his gray backpack from his hall closet, he tossed in a change of clothes and the small blue bag holding his toiletries. After slipping into his black lace-up boots, he picked up the keys to his Jeep Grand Cherokee, he stepped out into a cool May morning.

At 7:45 a.m., he walked through security at Detroit Metropolitan Airport and made his way to the terminal where he was to meet his plane. Checking the time, he saw he had just enough time to make a couple of phone calls before he boarded his flight. His first call was to his friend Jenna Stanton. A cat lover herself, Jenna was always willing to cat sit for him in a pinch. Under her watch, he knew his Lady Bug would be safe and spoiled. When she picked up, he filled her in on Penny’s phone call.

I should be home late tomorrow, he told her. I just need you to feed Lady Bug.

No problem, she said. I’m free this weekend. Perhaps Lady Bug and I will read a good book in the sunshine. We’ll see you when you get back. Oh, and Mike, stay safe.

Will do, he said, thinking of the small, dark haired girl with the beautiful smile. Potawatomi by birth, Jenna kept his feet on the ground. Because of her calming spirit and inner peace, Lady Bug adored her. To him, Jenna’s friendship was a balm to his soul. When he felt the need to confide in her, she was always good for sound, spiritual advice. He liked her very much.

Next on the list, was his mom. Always an early riser, he knew he’d catch her enjoying her second cup of coffee at this hour.

Hello, Mike, she said, picking up on the second ring. Is everything okay? It’s not even 8:00. What are you up to today?

"What is today?" he asked.

It’s Saturday, she replied. Why?

Just resetting my internal calendar, he replied. Mom, I’m actually waiting to board a flight to Arizona. Penny White Horse phoned last night, to tell me Arthur is in urgent need of my help.

What is it this time? she asked.

Penny didn’t say, he replied. But I owe Arthur a lot. I’m off for the long weekend, so I’m going out to help him with whatever project he has in mind.

Well, at least now you’ll be among friends, his mom stated. "I’m anxious to hear what bizarre events befall you this time. Last summer, he used his magical sweat lodge to send you back to a past life where you were forced to battle aliens. As you know, I turned your experience into a novel. Called Back-A Tale of Two Worlds is doing quite well. It does, however, need a sequel."

I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mom, but whatever I face on this visit, will be in 2017 not 1830, Mike assured her. I’m thinking Arthur needs my help to build a new goat pen or something. He loves his goats.

Well, call me when you get home, his mom urged.

I will, he said. I should be back sometime late tomorrow. I love you, Mom.

I love you too, Mike, she replied. Wait. Is his granddaughter still single?

She is, he replied. Why?

Must I remind you that your—

I know, I know. My biological clock is ticking, he said. Mom, I’m 36. Besides I’m an artist. We’re loners.

Well, have fun, she said. And be careful.

Goodbye, Mom.

Goodbye, Mike.

He checked the time. 8:15. He still had enough time to call Leo and Diane, the owners of the Spiral Tattoo shop where he worked. He’d been with them for nearly twenty years, and although they were his bosses, they treated him like family. Diane, the proverbial mother hen, would want to know if he left town. Now semi-retired, she answered on the first ring.

Hi, Mike, she chirped. Wait. Why are you up so early? Has someone died?

No, replied Mike smiling. Why does everyone think a tragedy has occurred just because I’m out of bed before noon? I work late.

We know you, replied Diane. "So, why are you up this early?"

I need to leave town—

Oh no! What have you done? she asked, alarm filling her voice. I’m afraid to ask! If Leo and I have to hide a body can it at least wait until after we’ve eaten our oatmeal?

It’s nothing that dramatic, I assure you, said Mike smiling. I’m heading out to Arizona to visit Arthur White Horse.

That’s wonderful, Mike! exclaimed Diane. What’s up this time? Are you going back to 1776 to help George Washington fight the British? Wait, if you’re going back to fight in the French Revolution, will you bring me back some of those tiny, square French pastries with the gooey centers. I think they call them petty-fours" or something. You just can’t find the good ones anymore."

I’m not time traveling, insisted Mike. It’s just a visit. Arthur’s granddaughter called me last night to tell me that he needs my help with something. It’s most likely a project that involves heavy lifting.

Well, you have been working really hard lately, said Diane. You’re due for a little fun time. Are you flying to Arizona or driving?

I’m actually flying, replied Mike. According to Penny, Arthur needs me there right away.

Well, be careful, stated Diane. Have a good flight. Wait. Did you call your mom?

I did, he replied.

Good boy, she said, before hanging up.

Pulling up his contacts, he decided to give Penny a quick update.

Hello, Penny, he said, when she picked up.

Oh, Mike, hello! she exclaimed. I’m glad you called. My grandfather is anxious to see you again. When will you arrive?

My flight leaves at 8:30, he replied. So, with the time difference, I should arrive in Phoenix around 3:30 this afternoon. I figure I can rent a car at the Phoenix airport. The drive up to Dilcon will take another three hours, so I’m roughly looking at arriving at your place sometime around dinner time. Just in time for your famous lamb chops and sweet potatoes.

I’ll go immediately and kill the fatted sheep, mused Penny. Seriously, Mike, thank you for coming.

I’ll see you soon, he said. I’m flying non-stop on Southwest.

You’re a trusted friend, Mike, declared Penny. That’s all my grandfather needs at this time. We’ll await your arrival.

When he heard his boarding call, he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder, pulled his ticket from his jacket pocket, and stepped into line. Following the other passengers’ lead, he presented his ticket to the perky young attendant and made his way up the enclosed ramp. Just before he stepped through the door onto the plane, however, a feeling of intense doom swept over him. Now where did that come from? he wondered, hesitating in the doorway. Was it an omen that he shouldn’t go to Dilcon? Was his plane going to crash? Refusing to give into his fear, he shook it off and made his way onto the plane. Arthur was depending on him, and he wasn’t about to turn back now!

After stuffing his gray backpack into an overhead bin, he made his way to his assigned seat. He was pleased to find it was next to a window and that no one was seated next to him. He liked flying with Southwest Airlines because they didn’t disturb you if you were sleeping. As the small Boeing 737 taxied its way onto the runway, Mike slipped in his earbuds. Finding his favorite heavy metal website, he closed his eyes and settled in for the four-hour flight.

He was startled awake by a loud bang as the plane rumbled and shook. His mind immediately flew to his earlier fear of his plane crashing. He was relieved, however, when the ruckus turned out to be the plane’s landing wheels hitting the tarmac. He was shocked to find that his four hours of flight time had vanished into a time warp. His late night, that turned into an early morning, must have sent him into a deep sleep. Glancing down at his watch, he was happy to see that he was keeping to his schedule. After figuring in the time difference, it was now 3:27 p.m.

He unbuckled his seat belt just as the pilot’s tinny voice welcomed him to Phoenix and thanked him for flying Southwest. As the plane taxied into the terminal, he pulled up the airport’s website and searched for the nearest place to rent a car. He would need something dependable if he was heading into the high desert. Suddenly he was looking forward to seeing Arthur and Penny again.

He got to his feet and waited for his fellow passengers to clear the isle. Retrieving his backpack from the overhead bin, he made his way into the terminal. According to his iPhone, he could rent a car at the southern end of the airport. Locating a displayed map of the terminal’s layout, he discovered that Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport was a massive complex. I better get moving, he thought. Shouldering his backpack, he stepped out onto the concourse.

He’d only taken a few steps when he heard someone call out his name.

Mike Aul, a female voice shouted above the din. Mike Aul.

When he turned around, a smile split his face.

Hello, Penny, he said, in surprise. I didn’t expect you to pick me up. I was just on my way to rent a car.

Nonsense, she said. We’ve already inconvenienced you with the price of an airline ticket. The least we can do is save you the fee for a rental car.

Thank you, he said. Lead the way.

He followed Penny out into the intense afternoon sunshine. In the parking lot, she led him toward a white pickup truck.

Is this Julius’s truck? he asked, thinking of the tall, well-built Native American man he’d met ten months earlier on the border of the Navajo Reservation.

It is, she replied. When he found out I was picking you up in my small car, he insisted I take his truck instead. He thought you’d enjoy the added leg room.

Again, thank you, he replied. We tall folk don’t fold in half very well.

For Mike, this drive to Dilcon was profoundly different then the one he’d made the previous summer. Then, he was venturing into the unknown, wrought with fear and anxiety. Now, he was returning to the home of a friend. Relaxing back against the seat, he enjoyed the light small talk. Looking out the window, he took pleasure in watching the trees and vegetation dwindle down until all that remained was desert and sun-baked boulders.

How is Arthur? he asked, as they neared the town of Dilcon.

He’s well, replied Penny.

And you have no idea why I’m here? he asked, curious.

As I told you, I’d rather Arthur explain it to you, replied Penny. Again, I apologize for the late call.

No problem, said Mike. I was painting. I do my best work after midnight. I’ve been known to burn an owl or two when I’m working on something big. He thought of his latest painting now drying on his paint table. Although he’d painted in the details of the boulder, the face on the Native American man still lay unfinished.

When they reached the end of the long dusty driveway leading to Arthur’s small octagon house, Mike found his friend waiting for him on his small front porch. As before, Arthur was sitting in his wheelchair, his gray head encircled by the smoke from his pipe. Penny pulled the large truck in next to the goat pen and shut off the engine.

I’m not surprised to find your grandfather waiting on the porch, said Mike.

My grandfather rises before sunrise, she stated. Today, he prays for your safe journey. He considers you a close friend, Mike. It’s known in these parts that if Arthur likes you, you will be liked by all.

Mike climbed from the truck and went to greet his old friend.

Ya’at eeh, said Arthur, extending his gnarled hand forward. Mike took it and felt the familiar shaking. It is good! I knew you would come.

How are you, Arthur? asked Mike. I took Penny’s urgent call as a sign that I needed to catch the first flight to Arizona. It’s good to be back.

Please, come in and share our meal, said Arthur, maneuvering his chair toward the door. While we eat, I’ll tell you why I’ve asked you to return to Dilcon.

You know, Arthur, if you needed my help, you could have just picked up the phone, said Mike smiling. Did you really need to add the Navajo earth drum?

I did, said Arthur grinning. A voice on the telephone hasn’t quite the same sense of drama and intrigue.

After freshening up in the small bathroom, Mike joined his hosts at their dining table. Deja vu, he thought, as Penny filled his cup with strong black coffee. He felt his stomach growl as she placed a platter of browned lamb chops in the center of the table. Beside it, sat a plate holding three large baked sweet potatoes. He smiled when she added a plate of light fluffy biscuits. He was starved!

As you requested, Mike. I’ve made lamb chops, said Penny, finding her seat. And the sweet potatoes are local produce. I hope you’re hungry.

Always, replied Mike.

Are you painting? she asked, passing him the platter of pork chops. They smelled delicious.

"I am painting, he replied. Since my visit last summer, I’ve attempted to preserve, on canvas, a few of the images from my experience as Two Ponies. A painting of the White Raven hangs above my bed."

In this way, you honor it, said Arthur, spearing a pork chop with his fork. The White Raven is the sacred bird that transports our spirits through time.

Its image fills my dreams, said Mike, thinking of the great majestic bird.

Perhaps it’s because the White Raven is not yet finished with you, stated Arthur.

His simple statement hung in the air.

Eyeing up the fluffy biscuits, Mike took one and smeared it with butter. As he did, his mind filled with the image of the four Indians.

By the way, he said, "I also painted the four Indians. The very ones the psychic-medium told me were ‘following me through life’."

I remember you telling us about them, said Arthur. As I recall, they frightened you. Has that changed?

Oh yes, replied Mike. "Your suggestion that I visit the Little Painted Desert Park changed everything, Arthur. While I was there, these four men revealed themselves to me. It turns out, I know them! Well,