FIVE WEEKS LATER
Calloway guided the raft out of the white water and along a curving sandstone wall. The choppy water settled as they eased into a quiet pool. The familiar sandy beach, the place where he'd briefly reached across time and glimpsed a scene from the ancient past, marked the end point for the trip.
They would picnic here and browse along the pale brown cliffs that had once served as a canvas for Anasazi artists. Then the president, his press secretary, and the rest of the entourage would depart in a helicopter that waited above the cliffs.
Camila leaped out as the raft touched shore. "This has been great, Trent. I really needed this break."
In the weeks since a nuclear bomb had fallen harmlessly into a tree in Arlington and George Wiley, the bomber, had been captured, the resulting media frenzy had overwhelmed all other events. Each day, it seemed, new revelations came out: the deaths of Fielding and Tyler were connected to Wiley and Freedom Nation. Wiley was linked to remote viewing and questions were being raised about the deaths of two former CIA remote viewers—Maxwell and Perez. Even the buzz surrounding the president's comments about aliens faded until Steve Ritter boasted from his jail cell that he and other remote viewers had engineered Dustin's alien encounters.
"I'm just glad that you've been kept out of it," Camila said after a pause.
"I've noticed that nothing has been said about the UFOs that attracted the fighter jets to Wiley's plane," Calloway said.
"I'm sure that it'll spill out at some point. There's just been so much being exposed about the psychic-induced encounters that no one is ready to look at the possibility of a real UFO. Whatever that is."
"I don't know what it was, either," Calloway conceded. "But I think it was related to your own encounter, Camila."
She frowned. "I thought that was Ritter's work."
"He thought it was my work." Calloway shrugged. "So I don't know. Except, I keep thinking about something Maxwell told me a long time ago. He thought that aliens would make themselves known when people believed they were here. Maybe the president's false experience created the real thing—at least for a few minutes."
She laughed. "I'll have to think about that one."
Calloway looked up as Dustin approached him. "Trent, this has been fantastic. Just fantastic. I'd like to do it again sometime."
"It's been an honor, sir. Anytime you're ready, let us know."
"I'd like to have you out to my house for dinner one of these nights, too." He smiled. "You know, that big white place on Pennsylvania Avenue."
Calloway smiled. "I've seen pictures of it. I'd like to get out there when I've got some time. My new RV arrives next week."
"A remote viewer living in an RV. I like that. Why don't you drive it and park it in my backyard. Just don't drive on the roses." They laughed, then Dustin added: "I know Camila would like you to spend some time with us."
"I want to spend some time with her, too, and I'd like to visit Doc. I heard she's recovering nicely."
Dustin took a step closer and lowered his voice. "In spite of what happened regarding my alien encounters, I still believe there's something to the phenomenon. Those UFOs that showed up before the bomb was dropped were tracked on radar. I think your talents could be used to find out a lot more about the source of those vessels."
"That could be," Calloway said.
Camila held up a hand. "Hold on. David, if you want me as your permanent spokesperson, then I would really prefer if you waited until you were out of office before you take that path again."
Dustin laughed. "Maybe so."
"Hey, you guys!" Ed Miller called out from a picnic table that he'd set up. "Lunch is all ready."
They walked back to the table and he took Camila's hand. "How's it been, living with Ed?" she asked.
"He's okay. But I'll be glad to get my own place again." "It was real nice of him to make you his partner."
"Yeah, now I've got more work to do. But I enjoy it."
"What about remote viewing?" she asked.
"It's dangerous stuff. But under the right circumstances, and for the right reasons, I'm ready. . . as long as either you or Doc, when she's ready, monitor me."
She smiled, hugged him. "That's a deal. It's a new tool. We need to explore it more thoroughly."
At that moment, Calloway glimpsed an Indian man walking along the base of the cliff near the walls of petroglyphs where ancient shamans had entered trances and traveled to other worlds. The man looked up at Calloway and he recognized him as the one he'd seen before. A shaman. A warrior. A remote viewer. The man walked on and faded away.
"Agreed. Except, one thing. It's not exactly a new tool, Camila. It's been around a long time."