ABSENCE

By J. K. Scott

The science fiction story, ABSENCE, is about Kayla and Zack’s entanglement with vanishing, or missing and the burden of consequences. Both are confronted with the present, past and future repercussions from differing life paths. They are free to explore knowledge, friendships, insights to understand their life purpose. The advancement of their experiences provides their motivation to resolve the challenges of time travel, dimensions, chaos and serious warnings about the past, present and future. They need to accomplish monumental changes to avoid further consequences for their survival as they contribute to the evolution of humanity and the planet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9781663254207

J. K. Scott

J. K. Scott is passionate about her graduate studies at the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco whereby she continues her studies in the evolution and transformation of consciousness. She is the author of Shades of Truth on the Mayan Prophecy and Tracking Terra on time travel. Invisible Forces is the final book of a trilogy. She lives in Arizona.

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Copyright © 2024 J.K. Scott.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-5419-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5420-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023924364

iUniverse rev. date:   04/08/2024

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

Epilogue

The first and foremost important secret that

has been carefully guarded and withheld

from the public at large is that two or more

worlds exist, composed of different forms

of matter by occupying the same space.

—John A. Keel, Our Haunted Planet

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Absence was authored during the discovery of the COVID-19 virus that unexpectedly developed into a global pandemic. Charles Dickens’s famous twelve words— It was the best of times; it was the worst of times—weighed heavily on life. First published in 1859 in A Tale of Two Cities, those words also rang true in the early 2020s. It was indeed the best of times when the courageous heroes of medicine and science lifted humanity’s spirit with awareness, healing, and, ultimately, a vaccination. Yet it was the worst of times that humanity had to endure, with an abundance of grief and a future of uncertainty.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My deepest gratitude to my family: Tony and Tricia, Cade, Austin, and Elan. My gratitude to Paula and Chuck Keys, who kept my spirit full of laughter; to my long-time friend Marlene Petro, who provided insightful support during these changing times and to Harry Hover for his continuous support. To dear friends Betty McCauley and Shari Gackstatter of www.StarWoman Crystals.com for sharing their vast knowledge about Mother Earth’s wonders. My appreciation and gratitude to Lynn Everett for her expert editing skills and her ability to clarify and heighten the essence of the story.

My deepest gratitude to Cox Complete Care's 24-hour advance service and technical support team...who provided quality service from my total computer crash, requiring new hardware, software upgrades, and reeducation to finish the edits on Absence.

PROLOGUE

February 26, 2021

Kayla visually experienced seeing a dark-haired man at the side of her bed, within arms’ reach. Hey, was all she said, and the apparition evaporated.

In a half-asleep stupor, Kayla fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand and grabbed her journal to post the latest sighting: Thirtysomething businessman, dark hair. White-collared shirt and khaki slacks stood too close.

Scanning the previous journal entries made her sigh.

Tall man in a long black coat and top hat from a century ago, who stood in front-room doorway to the kitchen.

Native American woman, long black braids, beaded leather dress, by lounge chair,

Cowboy-attired young man in kitchen doorway.

The previous pages continued in legible script, Middle-aged woman, strawberry-print blouse, next to couch. Last week, dozing in the living room, Kayla had sensed the presence of a woman with reddish-brown hair bent over her. Barely awake, she reacted: Back away! The woman evaporated.

Then, from two months ago, A cotton triangle form, the size of a small child. Round, deep-black, compassionate, watery eyes locked with hers, then instantly burst into millions of massive particles. Evaporated into thin air.

Although the lifelike forms had been startling at first, they became less troubling the more she accepted them and attempted to understand their meaning. The first occurrence had sent her searching for an explanation—not because of what it was, but because of what it brought to light, especially from an adult perspective. In her young adult years, she had considered the sightings she’d witnessed to be from childhood imagination. But with this new series of adult forms, it became clear that, perhaps, that was not the case. Rather, they seemed to be more of a sign or a warning. But why?

Gradually becoming more curious than concerned, Kayla pondered over the apparitions. She wondered where they were from and why, of all the places they could be, they appeared inside her house. Was her home the site of some kind of busy terminal, or possibly a burial, portal, or dimensional tear? And what were they doing observing her? Were they souls she knew from a past or future life, each appearing as an eternal presence in the conscious time? Could they be from a parallel universe—lost and trying to find their way back—or here on purpose, like interdimensional travelers with a mission?

But for all her curiosity and efforts at bravery, she could no sooner utter a single word than the souls would react as if surprised that she could see them, and then they would dissipate. They also seemed voiceless, which was more acceptable to her since she wasn’t prepared to respond if they spoke. Could she even speak?

Whatever the case, she couldn’t decipher her viewing angle, lying on the couch or the bed as she saw the standing visitors. Or could she have been out-of-body in some instances? After all, she could only see the upper half of the male who stood in the middle of her bed one time. However, an elderly woman in a 1940s-style dress strolled by, apparently unaware that she was being watched as she walked by her and then viewed the backside disappear. Kayla sensed a sort of strangeness with her mysterious visitors and intended to guard her experience—at least until she could understand their significance or purpose in her life.

1

February 26, 2021

AFTER SCANNING HER shadowy bedroom, Kayla cleared her fragmented thoughts from her mind. She pulled the curtain back to peek out her window. It was still predawn, which meant she could sneak to the communal mailbox without the neighbors seeing. She stuffed her feet into slippers. Tossing on a robe, she shuffled downstairs.

On her way out the door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the entryway mirror and stared at her blonde hair strands that appeared knotted and tangled. She stopped to tie back her hair. Professionally neglected for months during COVID lockdowns, her normally shoulder-length hair now reached down her back, and its ends were noticeably split. She intended to improve her appearance soon. She walked out into the cold, dark morning, amused by her neglect.

The door of the mailbox burst open with weeks’ worth of paper. A magazine protruded amid ads and bills. She tugged on it to unjam the pile. A postcard came loose, sailing to the ground and landing photo-side up, showing Sedona’s Thunder Mountain.

Zack! She groaned and freed the rest of the jam. She bent to peel the postcard off the damp concrete.

In the warmth of her kitchen, she laid the mail pile on the counter and grabbed the postcard from the top. On the back was Zack’s scribbled writing: Can’t wait to see you this weekend. Xoxo, your forever hiking partner. She tried to smile, but only sighed. She’d been waffling for weeks: Make the two-hour commute to see him in Sedona and go hiking? Or stay put in Scottsdale to tend to the café? Now it was too late to decide. She couldn’t back out.

She pulled up the calendar on her iPhone. He expected her to arrive early in the morning on Saturday. She huffed, disappointed she hadn’t contacted Zack earlier and frustrated that she’d put her work and staff in this position. Changing the schedule at the last minute would not make Cindy happy. But then Cindy wasn’t happy about much of anything.

She texted Zack—Thank you for the postcard. Will be there Sat. at 8 am. Call you later ending it with happy face and heart emojis.

Heading to the bedroom to shower, she reflected on the weekend ahead. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Zack. It was just …complicated. She hadn’t seen him in almost three months now, since before Christmas. She’d planned to go to Sedona for Christmas but canceled when COVID numbers began to rise and the gathering they’d planned to attend was canceled. At that point, they gave up any hope of a New Year’s celebration with friends and planned to go hiking in Sedona instead. At least the nature trails weren’t on lockdown. But when the new year rolled in, so did a new virus variant, meaning Zack couldn’t take leave from his essential job as a hotel manager. Disappointed, they’d had to reschedule. Again. And now the time was upon her.

She loved Zack, but she was tired. Tired of having to plan everything ahead of time. Tired of having things canceled and rescheduled. Tired of wondering when she would see him next and then having to drive two hours to get there.

Compounding problems, Zack’s job—operations manager at a Sun Ridge Hotel—had become increasingly unpredictable over the past few months as the franchise tried to ensure a safe place for essential workers like medical staff, police officers, businesspeople, and government officials to stay.

The circumstances shouldn’t have been surprising—they’d known going in that maintaining a long-distance relationship for the past two years was hard enough without having the extra burden of arranging travel plans during COVID—but they felt it would be worth the effort. And it was. Most of the time.

Kayla put on her white button-down shirt and black slacks—the standard dress at Beans & Greens Café—and then dried her hair for the usual ponytail. She dabbed her cheeks with peach powder, darkened her blonde lashes and eyebrows, and smiled to smear a soft pink glow on her lips. She was grateful for her youthful appearance, though aware that she couldn’t erase the puffy bags under her eyes until she had more sleep. She enjoyed being a café owner and head chef, but it did make leaving work difficult. Especially with the challenges of the pandemic—staffing shortages, fewer people eating out, shipping delays. On top of that, to see Zack meant she had to drive a one-hundred-and-thirty-mile stretch on Interstate 17, which was dominated by long-haul trucks and, lately, increasing amounts of drama. In the last week alone, three major accidents, another police shooting, a drug bust, and at least two other incidents of violence had been reported.

Anxiety wasn’t normally a problem for her, but these days, she couldn’t help feeling that the clouds dripped with it, covering everyone in its path. The news was full of anger, threats, political upheavals, antisocial incidents, and high rates of COVID that left families and friends separated, isolated, sick, and dying. Kayla, though normally optimistic and mentally strong, had not been immune to its effects, she still grieved over the loss of her parents to covid. Still mournful, she had adapted. Zack had adapted too. All in all, they were surviving. But she felt exhausted at times.

She slipped a new pinto bean soup recipe, articles, and a recent salad cookbook into her blue tote bag and left through the laundry-room door adjoining her garage.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled her silver Honda into the café’s side lot, appreciating the colorful mural of a vegetable garden on the lower half of the building and the plants in large terra-cotta pots that greeted customers at the two-door entrance. She grabbed her tote bag and headed toward the back delivery door, inspecting the thirty as-yet-unused patio tables. The roll-up garage door that opened to the large patio had been one of the main draws when Kayla was considering whether to buy the building. But that had been in March 2019, when her business vision hadn’t included a global pandemic.

Inside, the lights were on in the break room. Fast-moving keyboard clicks accompanied by a newscast sounded from the adjoining office. Cindy was already here.

Drawn by the aroma of vanilla hazelnut coffee, Kayla poured herself a cup, noting that last night’s staff had left the break room’s spacious counter, two six-top tables, mini fridge, and floor-to-ceiling supply cabinets spotless. Cup in hand, she wandered into the kitchen, which sat on the opposite side of the break room from the office inhaling the various spices, Cindy had already put the day’s menu on simmer: ham and lima bean, chili pinto bean, and vegan black bean soups.

Smiling, Kayla backtracked through the break room and joined Cindy in their two-desk office, hanging her jacket and bag on the coat tree. You are watching this? She reached up to the small TV mounted on the wall.

Cindy wrinkled her nose and waved her hand, so Kayla turned it off. She didn’t love that they watched the news at work. Her priority at the café had always been to maintain a peaceful, neutral environment, and the news didn’t exactly nurture that type of work culture. Longer-than-expected work hours, however, had meant missing out on the almost continuous stream of news updates surrounding the virus—and as a business owner, she couldn’t afford not to be informed.

Kayla sat at her desk and rolled her office chair across the floor toward Cindy, noting the dark, thick hair perfectly surrounding Cindy’s round face. She needed to ask who had cut her hair.

Cindy kept typing and peered over her black-rimmed glasses. What’s up?

I need to change the weekend schedule.

Oh? Cindy faced her, raising a suspicious, perfectly shaped eyebrow.

I’m going to Sedona this weekend.

I appreciate the warning. Cindy’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

Kayla chuckled to lighten the mood. I know. No worries, though. I’ll be back Tuesday morning. Since we’re closed Sundays, that means I’ll just be gone two days, and I’ll prep the menu for Saturday and Monday.

Cindy didn’t respond; she kept typing.

Be patient, Kayla told herself. First, Cindy was the business manager, so her frustration was understandable. Second, despite Cindy’s general lack of patience and tact, she had excellent culinary and business skills, which weren’t easy to come by. During the pandemic, when retaining qualified help had become more challenging than ever, Kayla couldn’t take the chance of losing her.

I hope my plans won’t disrupt your personal time at all.

Cindy moaned. I’ll adjust.

Defensively, Kayla raised her voice. Cindy, look, I know I should have decided earlier. It’s just … I think with all the cancellations lately, I had expected us to cancel the hike too. But then this morning, I got this postcard from Zack, reminding me, and he’s really looking forward to it, so … Even if I wanted to back out, it would be too late now. I can’t disappoint him again since he spent Thanksgiving here with me. And then I canceled our Sedona Christmas, and he canceled our New Year’s hike. It’s been one disappointment after another, and it’s my turn to visit him, so … I’ve got to make this happen.

I get it, Kayla, but I’ll need assistance.

Kayla nodded, always amenable with Cindy, I’ll ask Lucy to come in early on Saturday to help. And remember, your prep work will all be done.

Cindy said, Make sure Lucy agrees, she said with her usual frown, adding, "This is not a good day for an overpriced invoice or any uncertainty. She sighed. Kayla, this morning, I’m bidding on a condo. I need to leave shortly, after I decipher this invoice mess. But I’ll be back before lunch."

I’m glad you finally decided to place a bid on something.

Cindy shrugged. I just hope it’ll be accepted.

Yeah, I’ve heard it’s tough with the competitive demand for housing. Buyers are interested in the less-populated areas and want to stay away from high-rise buildings and enclosed elevators and such. I’ve read the Arizona boom is extremely high priced.

That’s the truth, especially given the higher offers from buyers leaving California, Cindy said with sarcasm. By the way, I had to complain to Arnold last night. For the third time, he forgot harissa spice for tomorrow’s Moroccan lentil beans. Now we’ll have to sub.

I’ll adjust the menu for chili lentil bean soup, Kayla said. In fact, I’m heading to the kitchen right now to start prepping. Good luck on your offer for the condo.

Cindy’s thanks were silenced by heavy typing clicks.

In the kitchen, Kayla got to work, draining their special broth for soaking beans into three large bins. She zoned out to the humming dishwasher, water swishing as it sprayed B&G’s branded stainless-steel thermoses. Kayla had created the thermos system, along with a minimal soup-and-salad menu, to respond to the shutdowns that had occurred at the beginning of the pandemic, leaving her café open to takeout customers only. It hadn’t taken long to realize that disposable containers full of soup sealed with flimsy plastic lids didn’t always do well in a moving vehicle. Instead, she came up with the idea of refillable thermoses, which would keep soups hot, salads cool, and rolls warm. Customers could buy them to refill at a discount.

Kayla smiled at the memory of those early days—the camaraderie of their little team as they ran with her concept, eagerly brainstorming about ideal thermos sizes, envisioning artistic designs to incorporate B&G’s logo. That had been at the very height of concern and shutdowns, when everyone thought the ordeal would be over in just a couple of months. In fact, Kayla had welcomed the shutdown of her lobby as a business opportunity; it drove her to dig deep into her intelligence and creativity to overcome what she assumed would be a minor bump in the road. Knowing she had also found a long-term solution for better service that would help the environment while keeping her supply costs down made her doubly proud. And customers could buy washable four-pack thermos carriers for families.

In the newness of it all, and in her drive to be successful, she hadn’t really grasped the true impact of the virus. Sadly, she wasn’t prepared when her elderly mom became infected and, two short months later, died alone in the hospital on a ventilator, followed by her dad a month after. Remembering her sudden, unimaginable grief at having to endure without them, Kayla inwardly grieved again as she mixed a spiced marinade for chili lentil beans. In her growing-up years, her parents had been the only ones who really knew her and appreciated her special gifts.

Even the hefty life insurance policy they had left her and her brother, Lars, made her sad—she wished they had spent it on themselves—but it had enabled her to refurbish the café and be of service to others and provide for those who wanted to work during the pandemic. Unable to locate her older, runaway brother, she’d used a portion of the funds to hire a detective to track him down. Unable to do so, the detective had advised Kayla to arrange for missing beneficiary insurance for a twelve-year period. This, apparently, would enable her to invest the money and eventually settle the estate. Lars could still claim his share—if he showed up.

In the meantime, COVID continued, wreaking havoc on the economy and requiring her intense focus on the café as essential workers became heroes, supporting and supplying society’s needs.

Only then had she fully realized the fragility of their world.

Hey, Kayla!

Kayla looked up, immediately warmed by Lucy’s infectious smile, kind brown eyes, and youthful bounce. True to her namesake from the famous show, Lucy was lovable. Certainly, Kayla was charmed by her, and so was almost everyone else. In her early twenties, curious and bright, Lucy spoke openly about her spiritual and paranormal interests, but there was a down-to-earth air about her that made Kayla feel comfortable and welcome in her presence. It was no wonder she was a favorite of the customers.

Hey! I’m glad you’re here, Kayla said. I need a favor.

What’s up?

Relaying her last-minute weekend plans prompted Lucy’s reassurance. Kayla. Are you kidding? Of course, I’ll help. I mean, it’s about time you two had some time together. No worries. Zack and you deserve to have fun, and I’ll be here Saturday morning to help Cindy.

I’ll do my best to have fun. Thanks, Lucy. I knew I could count on you. Kayla smiled warmly as Lucy gave a thumbs-up and then left to clock in.

Remembering she still needed to call Zack to confirm their plans, Kayla washed her hands and went back to the office. She dialed. The call went straight to voicemail. No message was necessary; he would see that she’d called and get back to her. She wasn’t in any rush.

Back in the kitchen, she drew in a breath and blew it out in a slow, steady stream. She washed her hands, grabbed a clean bowl, and asked Alexa to play R. Carlos Nakai’s flute music. She needed to lift her spirits and shake the thoughts that nagged her to stay home.

2

February 27, 2021

WITH LESS THAN six hours of sleep, Kayla pulled onto I-17, climbing over the Mogollon Rim. Having locked up the café a few minutes after midnight, she’d never been so glad her workers had voted for Sunday closure to be with family, or she’d have been there all-night prepping for Sunday too. After the pandemic, they would reassess if they would be open all week.

She joined the stream of long-haul truckers, preferring to follow slower trucks over the changing elevations. Feeling fatigued and bleary-eyed, she sipped coffee from her to-go cup and eagerly anticipated the dark desert’s drift into sunlight.

She glanced at the passenger’s seat that held her blue tote bag. She had placed her full hiking backpack in the trunk. She’d been so tired and in such a rush this morning that she hadn’t packed with her usual clarity. Most of her things had made it into the backpack, but she’d remembered a few sundries on her way out the door. Normally she would have repacked to fit everything into the backpack, but as it was, she was running twenty minutes behind, so the tote bag had sufficed. She could only hope she hadn’t forgotten anything in her exhausted stupor.

She mentally ticked off the contents of her backpack. Clothes to change into—black stretch pants, beige jersey undershirt, lightly padded brown jacket, extra socks, and tennis shoes—check. Just-in-case casual-dressy items—flip-flop leather sandals and yellow jersey dress—check. Beige sun hat? Sunglasses? Masks and toiletries? Bandana? Check. For emergencies, there was the paper copy of her drivers’ license and three hundred-plus in cash and loose change. And then, of course, snack bars and water bottles. Fortunately, she hadn’t had to pack the basic hiking supplies, as these always stayed in her backpack—Sedona hiking map, first-aid kit, compass, flashlight, and safety whistle, along with purification tablets, hand sanitizer, wipes, and plastic bags.

And then the blue tote bag, which had her nightgown, personal toiletries, phone charger, and black purse.

That seemed like everything, although she still wasn’t sure whether they were going on a day hike or camping overnight. She’d never really had the chance to ask Zack. The only correspondence they’d had yesterday was via the voicemails they’d left each other while playing phone tag. But no matter. Zack would manage any needed camping equipment.

Finally, the landscape lightened with the sun, and her morning brain fog along with it. As she admired the changing shadows and clear blue sky, it dawned on her that she hadn’t even checked the weather forecast. After all, she’d only decided to make the trip yesterday and then had to work the entire day. Plus, Zack was always good at tracking the weather ahead of time. If the forecast looked at all dicey, he would no doubt make other plans for them.

Should she call him to find out? He was probably still asleep, so she decided to wait. They could talk about it when she got there.

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She pulled onto Mountain Shadows Drive and went half a block, parking in Zack’s driveway next to his black Grand Cherokee Trackhawk Jeep. She opened the trunk and tucked her iPhone into a zippered pocket of her backpack. Zack stepped down from the ranch house’s wraparound porch. Wearing a padded olive vest, matching shirt and pants, and black hiking boots, he approached her with open arms. The warmth and snugness of his bear hug felt reassuring. Maybe it hadn’t been a mistake to come. She lingered in his hug.

Zack arched his brows above his dark-brown eyes and stepped back. It’s nice to see you without a mask.

It’s been a while. She grinned. I’m thankful we’ve both been able to get vaccinated. While Kayla had volunteered to receive a trial vaccination, Zack’s hotel, which provided free rooms to medical professionals self-quarantining from immediate family, had arranged for staff to receive early shots as well.

Zack lifted her backpack from the open trunk onto his shoulder. A gust blew his thick, dark hair over his eyes. He laughed, pulling his hand away from the backpack to push back his hair. As his smiling eyes emerged from his windblown rescue, Kayla’s spirit lifted.

Suddenly, her ambivalence about seeing him dissipated, and she found herself hoping for an intimate weekend to reconnect. As if reading her thoughts, he leaned forward and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. She felt her face flush as he heaved her backpack into his Jeep.

Only a backpack? he said, brushing off a few oak leaves from the wind.

I have a personal bag too. She pointed to the blue straps over her shoulder. It has my purse, so I’ll be leaving it inside.

Got it. Zack led the way to the porch, where a fresh pot of coffee and two mugs were waiting on a side table. Yogurt and a tray of oatmeal muffins rounded out the fare. An Adirondack chair sat on either side of the table. Coffee?

Of course! She set her blue bag down next to one of the chairs. She took her chair as Zack poured, offering a mug. It had been a while since she’d relaxed in these prime seats, which captured impressive views of Capitol Butte, known to locals as Thunder Mountain.

Kayla took a sip as Zack sat. We never really got to talk yesterday, she said. What’s the plan?

I thought we’d take a day hike and have dinner later at the house.

Good. I’d prefer a day hike.

There’s only a 10 percent chance of rain too, so I think we picked a good day.

Great. I knew you’d check.

In the coolness of the morning sun, they briefed each other on work, but Zack seemed restless. He inhaled his breakfast in a hurry.

Everything OK? she asked.

Absolutely, he reassured her. I’m just anxious to leave. I’m looking forward to our hike.

She smiled and took a last bite of muffin, washing it down with a swig of coffee. Then she stood and grabbed her blue tote. Let me stop at the bathroom, and then we can go.

Inside, she placed her blue bag next to one of the ruby-red couches in the great room, recalling evenings they had shared there. She glanced at the skylights that sprayed an amber glow over the lounge chairs, which faced the fascinating granite rock wall where a large television shared space with a potbellied stove in the corner. The dark wood panels, stainless-steel kitchen, and ash wood cabinets flowed, so perfect that she preferred not to cook in his kitchen during her stays. The massive, framed bay windows displayed the awe-inspiring red-rock cliff country. She appreciated Zack’s admiration of the nature that surrounded him.

She passed the master bedroom and glanced at Zack’s supersized bed with the customized headboard to accommodate his six-foot-five frame. The bedroom’s bright geometric paintings dominated the room even in dim light.

In the bathroom, she observed a new painting of Bell Rock that captured the stunning cliffs.

When she returned, Zack was carrying their plates inside. They smiled at each other, and she followed him to the kitchen. Stopping at the sink, she looked up and leaned closer to kiss him, but Zack looked away at the very same instant, leaving her feeling dejected. Hadn’t he seen her moving in to kiss him? Had he turned away on purpose? It hadn’t dawned on her until now, but maybe he had been feeling as distant from her as she had from him.

Zack rinsed the dishes and then looked straight at Kayla. Are we ready? It’s almost nine.

Kayla nodded, still fazed by Zack’s turning from her kiss.

She followed him out to the Jeep, where they both double-checked their backpacks—a routine they had developed after their worst argument, about a year ago, when they had left their backpacks on the porch but hadn’t realized it until arriving in Verde Valley for a three-day hike with friends. They’d had an enormous blowup in front of everyone—Zack was angry that he was always the one responsible for packing the Jeep, while Kayla was mad that she always had to be the one to make the two-hour drive to Sedona to go hiking—after which they decided just to leave and not go back. They had driven back to Zack’s house, and Kayla had promptly returned home to Scottsdale. It had taken them more than a week to resolve their differences, agreeing that they needed to help each other and be more mindful of the other’s needs.

As they drove, Kayla gazed out the window in silence at the numerous puffy clouds in the east. They passed Thunder Mountain, Boynton Pass, and Dry Creek Road to Forest Road 725, then followed the path through the cliff’s wilderness area. Zack slowed over the bumpy roads, some semi paved, some unpaved, until they reached the paved parking lot of the Honanki cliff dwellings around 9:20 am.

They parked and put on their backpacks, heading on foot along the trail that led to the cave cliffs of the ancient Sinagua, believed to be the ancestors of the Hopi. The brisk February weather did not disappoint, the temperature now fifty-something with a light breeze wafting from the north. This was Kayla’s favorite hiking path. The Honanki Cliffs covered stunning desert, rocky terrain, and high red-rock cliffs. But more than that, they contained Honanki’s historic ruins, which had more than two thousand documented petroglyphs that dated back to around 1100 BC. Something about ancient traditions and petroglyphs in general impassioned Kayla, but the Honanki petroglyphs, with their ghostly figures and human handprints on high red-rock walls, especially intrigued her.

She followed Zack as they roamed the famous cliffs, observing the ancient drawings, until Kayla stopped, gravitating toward a particular section of art on the rock cliff. She studied the details of each picture and symbol, drawn into their history, sharing stories from the past, present, and future. Kayla pondered the famous spiral, haunted by the depiction that covered caves, rocks, and walls around the world. The spiral or portal seemed to communicate a spiritual message that was too complex to unravel.

Her eyes stopped on her favorite figure. It was the famous Kokopelli petroglyph. For as long as she could remember, she’d been fascinated with this figure from southwest native traditions, characterized as a traveler, fertility god, storyteller, and prankster. She’d always felt connected to the petroglyph’s spiritual significance. Yet, in the numerous times she’d been on this trail, she’d never actually resolved why she was so drawn to Kokopelli’s form. She gazed, transfixed by its mystery.

Kayla? Zack’s voice broke into her consciousness. You ready?

Her eyes looked up at him, but her mind seemed distant.

Kayla, he repeated. Are you OK? I’ve called your name several times, as he glanced at his watch noting that Kayla had been gazing for the past twenty minutes.

Finally loosened from her trancelike state, she mumbled, Oh. Um … She frowned. I guess I didn’t hear you.

Zack laughed and put his arm around her. That’s OK. Are you ready to leave, or do you need more time to study the petroglyphs?

I’m fine. She forced a weak smile. Let’s go.

She wanted to share her fascination with Zack. How Kokopelli felt special to her—personal, even. But he was such a skeptic, he’d react nonchalantly, as if he were indifferent to things that she found personal and significant. She had learned to protect many thoughts that could dampen or weaken their relationship.

They left the Honanki Cliffs in silence, the only sound the steady beat of their hiking boots stepping through the sandy red soil. They would take the foot trails two miles east until they reached a second set of ruins at the Palatki Heritage Site with additional petroglyphs and then continue onto Bear Mountain.

A shiver ran through Kayla’s body. Was it getting colder? It was late morning, so it should have been warming up. She felt another cool breeze. She stopped and turned in a half circle, checking the skies. Are those rain clouds in the distance?

Ahead of her, Zack stopped. He turned to face her and looked up. What? I thought the forecast said only a 10 percent chance?

Dark clouds had not only sneaked up behind them but were now aggressively encroaching. A minute later, a large, wet drop hit her forehead. Then another hit her cheek. She checked the terrain below. Dark spots covered the sandy soil, confirming the impending shower. She looked Zack straight in the face. Can you believe it? She unzipped a pocket on her backpack and pulled out her beige hat. I wonder if this is all, or if it’ll get worse.

I wonder too, Zack replied, and noted it was a few minutes before 10 a.m.

As if in answer, the sky opened, and the light shower gave way to an all-out downpour. Within seconds, Kayla’s fabric hat was drenched.

Her arm felt heavy in the pelting rain as she lifted one hand to shield her dripping face. She strained to see Zack through the gray, watery sheets. Several yards ahead now, Zack turned back and yelled, We’ll take cover up ahead at the Palatki parking lot!

She gave him a thumbs-up as they dragged their feet through the soggy sand, hiking boots now heavy and sloshing. Then she put her head down and focused on the ground before her. Her ears pounded with the sound of rain. One heavy step after another, Kayla zeroed in on just moving forward.

A sudden sense of urgency enveloped her. She envisioned Kokopelli, a traveler, not as a figure on stone, but as a being—in existence somewhere—moving her along through the rain.

A thunderous crack echoed, penetrating her being. Jarred from her musings, she gasped and stopped dead in her tracks.

Zack’s voice came from somewhere up ahead of her. Kayla, are you OK?

Fine! She waved to Zack. On the other hand, she kept a secure hold on her drooping, wet hat.

Regaining her composure, she took another step forward. But instead of pelting rain, she felt a thick vapor. What …

She looked ahead, squinting to see through the misty air, The rock-and-scrub curve was yards away, but she couldn’t see Zack. He must have already rounded the curve, she thought.

Not wanting to lose sight of him, she trudged through the heavy rain.

3

February 27, 2021

AS SOON AS Zack heard the rumbling of water, he stilled himself to listen, turning toward the ominous sound. He used his shirtsleeves to wipe heavy rain from his face and ears. That sound meant the wash could flood within minutes. He turned to alert Kayla, who he anticipated to be right behind him. He vaguely saw her form in the downpour as soon as he stepped around the curve, relieved she was only yards away.

Kayla! he called, but she didn’t seem to hear his voice over the wind gusts and pelting rain. He wiped rain from his eyes looking around the curve, Kayla!

He almost stumbled when a gust blew pelting rain into his face, momentarily blinding him. He pushed the water from his eyes again just as the sky flashed, followed immediately by a thunderous roar. The storm was right over them now.

Kayla! he shouted as he bolted toward her.

Where are you? He anxiously looked around, unable to see her. His heart skipped a beat. Great. He continued searching until he realized he was in ankle-deep water in the exact spot where he had last seen Kayla. He turned in a complete circle, scanning the area in a panic, unable to catch his breath. He raised his hand to block the rain from his eyes. His water-resistant watch’s bright blue light flashed 10:10 am as he yelled Kayla!

He turned and turned as he searched for a glimpse of her. Oh, no. Where are you? Kayla!

He desperately fumbled in a drenched vest pocket and pulled out his whistle. His first blow rasped from a shallow, fearful breath. He got a fuller breath and blew again, this time making three long whistles, followed by three short ones and three longs again. If Kayla didn’t hear his SOS signal, maybe someone else would.

He stopped and listened. The sound of rain and rumbling water was the only reply.

Kayla! In a panic, he trotted back and forth on the trail, blowing the whistle in one long note until he ran out of breath. Gasping for air, his heart pounding, he fumbled for his cell phone. Even if Kayla couldn’t answer, he could listen for her ring and follow it until he found her.

But hesitated, wasn’t it dangerous to use a phone in lightning bolts and heavy downpour? If his phone stopped working from storm damage, which