Bob Cooper was a volunteer fireman who helped work the odd crisis every now and again. He had shone his flashlight in my eyes and led me back down to the road, where he and other volunteers had been looking for me for five days. Five days was a long time in the mountains and I had been out for almost all of it, in a state of delirium, under my lean-to. I was famished and ate a Whatchamacallit candy bar while they radioed the rest of the team.

“You’re lucky you called my name,” Bob said, face smiling from the front seat. His grin was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. “I was just getting ready to head back down and go home.”

“Yeah.” I said. “Thanks.”

But I hadn’t called Bob’s name. I had prayed. And that prayer was answered. By some miracle or coincidence, I didn’t know.

Laying in the hospital bed, getting checked out, it was nice to be warm and dry. My boss had come by to check on me and ask me what had happened. “Panthers” I said. “Gonna get some sleep. Talk to you in the morning.” I rolled over, and he left.

Rick Sanchez over at Mountain View Mennonite was there when I arrived the next morning. Didn’t really even know they had Mexican Mennonites, but, whatever. I had left the hospital without checking out because I needed to see if a church fella knew what it was that happened. If God answered my prayers maybe there was something to it. Maybe Nana had been right all along. Rick said he was only a deacon there but he would answer my questions all the same. I gave him the whole story.

“Oh you mean the Tepeyollotl.” he said, eyeing me funny. “Yeah we know about them. They got here long before the white man did, and they’ll probably be here long after we’re gone.”

I showed him the skulls that somehow, miraculously were still in my bag and he gave a low whistle.

He looked it over very slowly, fingers going over the cheek bones gingerly.

“You got two of them?” he asked earnestly.

“Right here.” I handed the other one to him.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” he said, and walked to the back office of the church. What, is he going to get a camera or something?

But he never came back.

As I limped to the front door of the church and opened it up, his black Denali was kicking up dust, turning left and driving down the street.

“Fuckin A.” I said to myself. “Now who’s gonna believe me?”