CHAPTER 42

  VALIDATION

  That next morning, I was up at around 4 a.m. I did not sleep well. The sun had not even come up yet. It was dark, cold, and windy. I stopped in the coffee shop to get a cup along with something to eat. As I came in, the coffee shop was already a buzz. Besides the dozen or so workers we had brought for the dig, there were casual travelers and truckers.

  I looked around quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I was avoiding Fitch most of all. Finally, I saw Dr. Peterson and James sitting with another man at a table; they both motioned for me to come over. So, I did.

  They both said, “Good morning.”

  Dr. Peterson then introduced the other man, “This is Ramon. He is our foreman. He's from the tribe whose land we're excavating.”

  I shook Ramon’s hand and sat down.

  Dr Peterson added, “Ramon’s tribe has a long history with giant inhabitants in these parts.”

  Ramon was a solid man. Quiet, reserved, and deeply introspective. I asked him about his tribe’s history with giants.

  He spoke, “We regard giants with the greatest respect. They connect both the physical and spiritual world. They have appeared to my ancestors through the centuries as messengers. However, they appear only to some, not all of my people have seen them. They choose who they show themselves to. It is a great thing in my tribe to see a giant. They appear in times of need, times of change, or to warn of disaster.

  There was a time when our people were suffering through a great drought. A giant appeared to the chief and told him that the tribe needed to pay respect to the sun. This giant messenger told the chief of our tribe to send a warrior to the Temple of the Sun.”

  I asked, “Temple of the Sun?”

  He continued, “Yes, the Temple of the Sun was located in the Valley of the Souls in the Giant Canyon.”

  Peterson interjected, “The Grand Canyon.”

  Ramon continued, “Yes, the Grand Canyon. Our chief sent his best warrior to the temple, and just as the giant told him, he went to the temple to ask for peace, rain, and shelter from the powerful sun. The story goes that the warrior spoke of the giant warriors who stood guard over the temple. The warrior prayed at the temple and was told to return to the tribe and wait for an answer. He did just that, and within three days, a giant visited the warrior again and brought with him the rain. When the giant appeared, the drought ended, and the tribe was saved.

  The chief then sent the warrior back to the temple to show gratitude, and the warrior never returned. The chief sent other tribesmen, and they either never returned or returned saying they were unable to find any temple. Since that time, there have been other stories from our history of similar giant encounters. Our ancestors have told these stories for generations.”

  Dr. Peterson spoke up, “Ramon’s tribe is not the only one to speak of this temple in the Grand Canyon. We have a scout team in the Grand Canyon searching for such a temple.”

  I was stunned. Instead, I yawned.

  “Did you sleep well?” James asked.

  “Not particularly.”

  “I know how that is,” he said. “It took me weeks to get used to the bed and the wind and sounds. But you will get used to it.”

  I nodded my head and hoped. I ordered some eggs and coffee. James and Ramon took off with the first truckload of workers to the site. As I was sitting there, I made a point to look around for Fitch, but I didn’t see him anywhere. I wondered what had happened to him. I wondered if he had overslept. I wasn’t entirely sure, although I was curious.

  I rode over to the site in a jeep with Dr. Peterson. We followed the second truckload of laborers going to the site. The dig site was quite a distance from the motel. As we drove over, the sun slowly began to rise. The midnight blue sky faded at the horizon into a lighter shade of blue, eventually orange and yellow. Evidence that the night was breaking. With the light, I could make out more and more of the surroundings, but the spareness of the landscape itself rang hollow to me. The area was nothing but desert dunes with sprinklings of vegetation. The wind was blowing very hard, and the jeep was often pelted with the granular white sand.

  “Is it always this windy?” I asked.

  “Not normally. When it is, it tends to die down as the sun comes out and the heat takes over. Trust me, you will prefer the blast of the morning winds to the ones in the late afternoon. You will absolutely bake out here in the height of the day.”

  We pulled off the highway onto a dirt road to drive a few miles further. The excavation site was on a Native American reservation. As we approached it, I could see a floodlight shining down on a row of dunes in the sand. The floodlight was failing. Next to the row of lights was an all-metal, chrome trailer, and next to the trailer was a generator.

  “Darn it,” Dr. Peterson said. “It looks like the generator is low on juice. The light looks dim again. I hope we get the new generator soon.”

  Dr. Peterson pulled up next to the chrome trailer. She opened her door and ran over to the generator, calling for someone. I watched Ramon come running over. She was talking to him quite intently about the generator. He walked over to it with a can of oil and moistened the belt, and the light was somewhat brighter. They argued for a minute or two, and then all seemed alright again.

  I got out of the jeep and was pelted with the wind-blown sand. I pulled a handkerchief out of my pants pocket and tied it around my neck, pulling it over my mouth and nose. Instead of walking over to where Dr. Peterson was, I walked over to the dunes and made my way up and over very slowly. Walking in the thick sand was not easy, especially with the intense wind that morning. It was like walking in Iowa winter snow.

  My feet and ankles were quickly buried in the sand. At some point was like walking in knee-deep water as I attempted to mount the top of an eight-foot dune. As I reached the summit, I looked down to where the floodlight was pointing and saw exposed rock ten feet below. They had built a wooden fence all around the site. The gypsum rock exposed was nearly twenty feet long. The fencing cut back and forth, creating a twenty-foot corridor of exposed rock. Men were already digging at the far end of the path. Others were loading wheelbarrows with sand, bringing them out of the area. A couple of the men were working on shoring up the growing fence line. They continued to put up wooden planks as the stretch of the site slowly grew.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I looked out at the horizon and could see a resilient, looming darkness in the west as the eastern sun continued to work its way up. As I panned the area, there was not a building or other sign of life to be seen. We were out in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing but sand, wind, and the occasional tumbleweed in sight. Peacefulness hung over the site and its isolated surroundings.

  Dr. Peterson joined me on the dune and ruined my moment of solitude. She asked me to follow her to the site area. We navigated the steep dune and came around to the open end of the fencing. We walked down the sloped rocky ground. She switched on a flashlight, and we walked about ten feet into the walled corridor. She pointed her flashlight down to the ground and bent down. I came around her and knelt with her. I saw a footprint baked into the rock by years of the hot sun. The footprint was nearly twenty inches long and about ten inches at its greatest width. I pulled out a tape measure to get the true dimensions. I could not believe what I was seeing. I reached down to touch it. The footprint was deep and clearly petrified into the rock that was once shallow mud. It was as if cast in natural cement.

  “We believe it is more than five hundred years old,” she said. “What do you make of it?”

  I was astounded. “It certainly is the biggest print I have ever seen.”

  She shone her light down further into the corridor. “We have discovered about eighteen of them already.”

  I looked down the path and could see faint prints in the rock as they continued down the path in the dim light of her flashlight.

  She continued, “There have been no other discoveries here yet, as far as other artifacts. We are hopeful, though.”

  I asked, “How did you find this place?”

  “My foreman, Ramon’s tribe has lived in this area for nearly a hundred years. He remembered his grandfather talking about tribes of people who had found similar prints here. His dad remembered his father taking him to see the prints. I guess the tribe has always known they were here, but did not share them with anybody, including the United States government.

  “There are no houses around. Where do they all live?”

  “Oh, they live mostly at the edge of the reservation now, down from the motel where we are staying. Nowhere near here.” Dr. Peterson shifted her weight. “Ramon and his tribe believe giants exist. They believe giants stand between two worlds as guides into the afterlife, and that these beings have been here through the ages. Many of the elders of his tribe talk about tales of these “big men” being around in past stories. I have heard them being described as “big men” before, big brothers from another dimension. Before you say it, I know what you are thinking. But look at what we have found here. Here is the proof that these giants actually existed.”

  I could not believe my luck. This was no hoax. Here was concrete proof that giants existed. The footprints were proof that a human of great stature had left his print for the world to find and believe.

  Dr. Peterson asked, “Pretty amazing, isn’t it? What do you make of it, Doctor?”

  “Well,” I said. “It certainly is curious. At the moment, I am lost for words. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know,” she said. “I felt the same way when we first uncovered it. This is just the tip of the iceberg.” Dr. Peterson smiled. She knew it validated what I had long believed. Here was my proof, a petrified footprint in the desert gypsum. All around the world I had searched, and now, after all these years, it had found me.

  That night, I was able to talk to Mimi. I did not tell Mimi about the giant footprints, only that I was working on research relating to the indigenous people of the southwest. I guess I seemed happy because she seemed to share my enthusiasm. Or maybe it was that she was feeling good about the pregnancy. In order to save more money, we decided to discontinue our phone conversations. Instead, we agreed to keep in touch with letters. We both realized that talking on the phone didn’t seem to ease the anxieties that accompanied my being away from home. As the days went on, our conversations seemed more and more stressful to both of us. At times, we were unsure of what to say to each other. A divide seemed to grow with the physical distance between us.

  As it turned out, Fitch was around, but he seemed to keep his distance from me as much as possible. I guess I had made my feelings clear enough. I continued to avoid him whenever possible. I wasn’t really sure about him and if he did anything wrong while here, but I still didn’t want to be judged for knowing him.

  There were times when I felt him watching me. I would feel someone staring at me and turn around to see him looking in my direction. When I saw him looking at me, he did not avert his eyes. He would continue looking at me and, in most cases, smile. It seemed odd, and then all the more normal because it was Fitch.

  A couple of months went by, and one day I returned to the motel and had a letter waiting for me. It was from Mimi.

  Dearest Jack,

  I am writing to share the most wonderful news. You have a son! He is a big boy, nearly ten pounds. He has your eyes and your skin color. He is a good baby. Jack, I wish you could be here to meet him. I have chosen a name for him. I hope you do not mind. You and I never seemed to get around to discussing names. I really had no choice. They needed his name for the birth certificate. He is called John David. He is such a good baby and strong. Just like his daddy.

  May is with me. She is a big help. She works at the beauty shop in the mornings and then again in the evenings. In the afternoons, I go in and help as much as I can. I hope to be back to teaching soon. We are doing well here. The birth was not as troubling as I would have thought. Be safe. Write soon. We miss you.

  Always,

  Mimi

  The news shocked me. I knew we were having a baby but being so far away and removed from the situation, I had forgotten what Mimi’s pregnancy meant. I could not understand that I had a son. I didn’t know what to say to her. Congratulations? This seemed odd since it was my son as well. Nothing seemed to fit. So, I did not send any reply. I simply mailed my latest payroll check to her with no note attached.

  Weeks went by, and finally another letter followed:

  Dearest Jack,

  Thank you for sending the money. It sure helps. The baby sure eats more than I would have ever expected. He seems to really have taken a liking to May. May tells him the most interesting stories. She can keep him entertained like no one else. Plus, she can get him to go to sleep much faster than I can.

  It has been a joy and a Godsend to be here with her. It is nice that we can talk about our growing up. We have really become quite close again. May has so many more wonderful stories than I do about Mama and Pappa. Plus, she has such a vivid imagination. She reminded me of when we were little girls and would play mermaids down in the water near our house. She tells similar stories to the baby. He sure enjoys it.

  He is getting bigger every day. I will try to send you a picture. May has a camera. I will see what we can do. Sorry, it has been a few weeks since the last time I wrote. The baby sure keeps me busy. I don’t know if you sent a letter, and it was lost. I have not heard anything back from you. I hope you are all right.

  Always,

  Mimi

  I felt bad that I had not yet written anything about the baby to Mimi. I was preoccupied with my work and research. I used it as an excuse for the fact that I really didn’t know what to say. I knew I had to write her back, but I couldn’t do it just yet. I wanted to have some exciting news of my own to report. The work I was doing was important. I just worried about how she would take it.

  The crew in New Mexico had only uncovered an additional two prints before the tracks disappeared. No other evidence or artifacts were found. Dr. Peterson was losing her patience. She really wanted to be able to piece together a history with the prints. All we had were stories and legends from what the local tribal people could remember.

  As the days went by, the pressure to connect the dots was becoming more intense. Dr. Peterson was becoming more and more distressed about the whole thing. She was also cryptic about her reasons. I asked James and he told me the Institute was under pressure to wrap up the project. He did not know where the pressure was coming from. I tried to ask Dr. Peterson about it, but she would not tell me anything.

  It had been weeks, and we had found nothing. It was frustrating, but the footprints were enough for me. It was physical proof I needed to conclude that giants had, in fact, existed on this continent. Dr. Peterson seemed more concerned with being able to show proof of more than just the one set of prints. Dr. Peterson was unable establish more than one set or giants as a species, settled on ensuring that the prints were preserved and the castings taken for further study back at the Institute.

  She and I had discussed furthering my research at the university where she was based. It was nice to be part of the team, without having to carry the burden of her responsibilities. Somewhere back home, my son was leaving his first marks on the world. I wondered if anyone would think to look for them.