June 2009

Wally fidgeted in his bus seat, pressing his face against the window as the bus took a curve in the road that swung out on the edge of a stark cliffside that led down to the ocean below. It was a bright gray day in early summer, and the long expanse of California Highway 1 gave Wally a beautiful view of the Pacific coastline with all its tumbling cliffs, rocky outcroppings and seething foam.  As they were headed southbound, the whole expanse of sea and sky lay just over Wally’s right shoulder, where the sun was just visible as a bright patch in the clouds over the water. But Wally wasn’t looking at the view. He was sweaty and pale and he rubbed his head and adjusted himself in his seat every few minutes as the bus turned and swayed.

Wally was a big, pudgy middle-aged man with a greasy ring of graying hair sprouting out of a very shiny scalp. He was wearing a large light blue t-shirt and a pair of black Wranglers with a stretchy waistband that pinched his belly into two sections. Sweat stood out on his forehead and he licked his lips every few seconds. He turned and looked at the girl in the seat next to him with doleful red-rimmed eyes.

“I feel sick,” he said.

Wally’s seatmate was very attractive, probably somewhere in her mid- twenties, with a mass of curly brown hair, dark eyeliner, jangly silver earrings, wool stockings and knee-high black boots. She had a large black artist’s portfolio bag that she had somehow managed to fit under her seat and had arranged herself around it so that nothing seemed cramped or awkwardly arranged, which seemed to Wally like a mark of poise and grace. She nodded at his proclamation and glanced around at the crowded interior of the bus.

“Do you think you might, like, throw up?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Wally. “I’m an epileptic. I have seizures.” He wiped sweat off his face with his palm and leaned back in his seat.

The girl looked scared. She sat on the edge of her seat. “What happens if you have a seizure? Should we try to call a doctor? Should we let the driver know?”

“No, I don’t need a doctor,” said Wally. “It just happens sometimes. I don’t know what the seizures are like, because I’m never awake to see ‘em. People at work tell me it’s horrible. I fall down hard and seize up, and froth at the mouth and grind my teeth. They have to put something in my mouth to make sure I don’t bite my tongue. I loose control of my bowels sometimes.”

“Oh, God,” said the girl. Then, tentatively, she asked, “Do you feel one coming on now?”

“Maybe,” said Wally. “Or it could just be motion sickness.”

The girl bit her lip and looked at her hands, which were folded in her lap.

Wally rubbed his face with his fist.

“It could also be Jim, I guess,” said Wally. “I’m kind of scared to see him again. Honestly, I haven’t been this scared in a long time. It’s hard for a man to admit when he’s scared, but I’m scared. I haven’t seen my friend Jim in over thirty years. We want to college together. He was one of my best friends. He gave me a call a few days ago, right out of the blue. It was the strangest thing. He was laughing, crying, talking about how he was sorry for something, saying that I should meet him down here, in Big Sur, for some reason. He said there was something he wanted to show me. He kept going on about the universe and things. So of course I got on the bus and went.”

“Oh. Weird,” said the girl cautiously.

“God,” groaned Wally leaning his head back and rubbing against the seat in slow circles.

“Should I…” started the girl, but Wally sat up again.

“We were big hippies then, as odd as that sounds,” said Wally. “I guess Jim still is. Jim was an amazing guy. Very handsome and fashionable, and crazy smart. I haven’t seen him in forever. We came down here on a road trip one time with some girl friends of ours. Went camping out by some hot springs. That was some of the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. You’re young, you should try it. Maybe you and your boyfriend could go. You must have a boyfriend, attractive young lady like you.”

“Thanks,” said the girl.

Wally leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “It’s probably just nerves,” he mumbled. “If I fall asleep, shake me when we get to Joe’s Burger and Seafood, will you?”

“‘kay,” said the girl.

Wally opened his eyes after a few seconds and turned to his young companion. “I wonder what he’s sorry for? I haven’t seen him in so long, I can’t think of what it could be. And what could he want to show me?”

“Dunno,” said the girl, reaching into her bag and taking out her Ipod with almost unearthly speed.

September 1967

Wally was walking up the Great California Highway from Golden Gate Park to the Cliff House on a Saturday afternoon, taking a break from a paper he had been working on. It was a windy day in the third week of his first semester at college, and the waves were rolling in high up onto the shore.

Wally loved San Francisco. When he had breaks from school he liked to take the bus to various spots around town and just walk around, greedily soaking up the atmosphere. He hadn’t made any friends yet so he always made these trips alone, but that was all right. He imagined that since he’d been there his head had grown invisible feelers that were projecting outwards, slowly but surely drawing him straight in the direction of the scene. It was the Summer of Love and he loved walking around watching all the brightly-dressed young people that were everywhere, walking barefoot in the street and just being free. At home he had tried to grow his crew-cut out slightly and had practically been disowned by his father. Here, in California, he felt like he could do anything, and the endless possibilities made his head swim with joy.

He had paused to catch his breath on the hilly climb and was looking out over the beach when a tall young man started to pass him on the sidewalk. The young man gave him a long glance and Wally recognized him suddenly from his history class at school. This young man had struck Wally as an impressive figure from the first day of class, when Wally witnessed him starting an argument with the professor about the political slant of the textbook as the rest of the students were leaving the room. He was obviously an intellectual, but also seemed distinctly fashionable and appeared to have a lot of friends. He exuded a sense of radical chic that seemed to attract people to him with ease.

“Hi. Wally, isn’t it? San Francisco State? I think you’re in my history class.” the young man said, extending his hand.

“I’m sorry, I forgot your name.” said Wally.

“Jim.” they shook hands.

“Short for James?”

“No, just Jim. How about Wally? Short for Wallace?”

“No, Wallard.”

“Wallard?” the young man looked perplexed. “That’s an unusual one.”

“It was my mother’s maiden name,” explained Wally, embarrassed.

“Oh, well. Groovy. Well, hey, I was just going down to the beach to meet some friends. I’ll let you get along your way. See you in class, huh?”

“Well, actually,” Wally said, breathlessly, “I’m not really doing much of anything today. I was just walking around. Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” said Jim. “Why not?” They both started walking down the hill in the direction of the beach.

“San Francisco’s been nice,” Wally said as they walked.“I’m really feeling like this is where I’m meant to be- I’m getting more and more sure about it. This new movement is so freeing- isn’t it?” Wally turned his face to Jim and winked. “Free love and all that, too, right? Liberated girls, huh? Right?“

Jim looked Wally up and down. “Yeah,” he said. Feeling a little bit under inspection, Wally tried to look calm and walk tall, sucking in his stomach so it disappeared over the top edge of his belt.

“We’re just having a little get-together, that’s all,” said Jim after a short pause. “A little wine, some talk and good company. Nothing too crazy.”

“Sounds neat,” said Wally.

After a short walk they reached the sand and eventually came to a small group of students sitting on beach blankets by the cliff side with two bottles of wine. There was another young man with long blonde hair and two beautiful girls with long brown hair. One of the girls had a simple pink dress on and the other one was dressed in tight blue jeans, a long white blouse and a fitted red velvet jacket with bits of string tied around her wrists. Wally’s glance fell on her a little longer than he intended and he blushed and looked away.

Wally politely introduced himself to all of them and sat down on the edge of one of the blankets with his legs sticking out at odd angles onto the shore. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground and not drag his cuffs in the sand. Jim whispered something in the other young man’s ear and then sat on a rock near the blanket and kicked off his shoes.

“So, Wally,” said Jim, “I was talking to my friends here about our learned professor just the other day. What do you think of him?”

“Professor Belknap? I dunno. He’s all right, I guess,” said Wally.

“Don’t you think he’s just a little bit fascist? Have you noticed? The way he talks about the Reds like we’re witnessing the return of the Black Plague? He’s like Joe McCarthy in a ratty suit that smells like piss and mothballs.”

The girls giggled. “I guess so,” said Wally.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” said Jim.

“I guess he smells pretty bad. He’s really boring, too,” offered Wally. “I can never pay attention in that class. I keep almost falling asleep.”

“Smart,” said Jim. “You’ll fill your head with less bullshit that way.”

Wally beamed.

Jim turned to the others. “Well, there you have it, I guess. But hey, what’s going on with you, Gary? Don’t you have something you’d like to share with us?” Gary was apparently the other young man.

Gary reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bag, from which he produced a small roll of paper. Wally thought he knew what was in the bag, and the thought jolted through his body like a shot of electricity.

“We were waiting for you, Jim,” said Gary, taking out the paper roll and handing it to Jim. Jim put it in his mouth and laughed, leaning back on his rock and kicking his feet into the air.

“He’s been keeping us waiting, is more like it,” said the girl in the blue jeans sulkily, and stuck out her tongue at Gary. “Don’t keep us waiting too! Come on, get out a match already!”

“All right, all right, here you go.” Jim lit the roll of paper, took a drag, and handed it to the girl. She took a drag and laughed. The girl in pink grabbed the joint away from her, ran over to Jim, and sat on the rock next to him. Jim grabbed both girl and joint, took a drag, and blew the smoke straight into her mouth. She leaned back, pretending to swoon, and tumbled off the rock onto the sand.

“There you go, baby,” Jim said quietly. Then he sat up.

“Okay,” said Jim, tossing his gleaming hair out of his face.“What do you think, Wally? Tell me. Are you shocked? Are you going to turn us in? Or do you actually smoke grass all the time?”

Wally blushed. “I’ve never smoked grass before, but I’m not shocked.”

Jim held the joint out to Wally.

“I don’t know,” said Wally, suddenly nervous. When Wally was nervous he had a habit of scratching his head, and he leaned his elbow on his knee and scratched deeply. Flakes of dandruff started to rain down on his shirt collar, and he stopped scratching and tried to brush them away. The girls glanced at each other.

“Are you freaked out, Wally?” said Jim, leaning forward on his rock and assuming a serious whisper. “You shouldn’t be. From your perspective right now it may seem new and scary, but from our perspective you’re like a monkey or an ape, and we’re like supermen. You can be a superman, too, Wally. Anyone can. Just give yourself a fighting chance!”

Everybody laughed.

“Come on, Jim, don’t be like that, you’re freaking him out more! It’s not that big a deal, Wally,” said the girl in the blue jeans. “It’ll just relax you a little, that’s all.”

Wally looked up at her gratefully. She was beautiful, like an angel. From where he sat her light-brown hair stood out in dramatic contrast to the deep blue of the sky. Her white blouse was flipping open slightly in the wind, offering Wally a glimpse of two lovely breasts. Next to her, Jim’s tall, wiry frame was gracefully draped over his rock, his jet-black hair falling down and almost touching the sleeve of her dress. They were both so beautiful it made the back of Wally’s throat tighten up.

“Sure, I’ll have a toke,” he said, casually. “And I’ll take a sip of that wine, too, while I’m at it. Why not?”

They passed the bottle and Wally took a sip.

“What are your names?” Wally asked.

“Gary,” said the blond-haired guy.

“Cindy,” said the girl in pink.

“Susan,” said the girl in the blue jeans.

“Susan,” repeated Wally. “Wow. That’s nice. Nice to meet all of you. You’re great. I can’t believe it- here I am, drinking in public and hanging out with grass fiends,” he said. “I’ve only been here a month and I’m getting morally corrupted already!”

The crowd on the blanket glanced at each other.

“So, what are you up to this weekend?” asked Wally after a moment of silence. He took the joint and let it burn between his fingers, observing the way the smoke curled up from the burning edges of the paper.

“Big Sur,” said Susan after a few seconds. “Down the coast.”

“The wilderness,” said Jim. “They’ll never find us again!”

“Sounds groovy!” said Wally. “That’s exciting! Well, I’m not doing anything this weekend, if you have room for one more!”

That was how it had all began.

June 2009

When Wally got off the bus at Joe’s Burgers and Seafood, he stopped and stood still on the gravel road and checked his watch. It was 3:15- he was fifteen minutes late. He noticed that his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a crumpled paper towel and dabbed at the sweat on his face. Then he straightened his shirt and continued on towards the building.

Big Sur had changed a lot from the wilderness he had explored with Jim back in his college days. Joe’s Burgers and Seafood was a shining monstrosity hacked out of the bramble and green Monterey pines that grew up and down the beautiful coastline. Just on the far side of a sharp bend in the highway, perched out on a rocky promontory, it was a glistening tribute to modern architecture made even more striking by the beauty of the landscape that surrounded it.

From the outside the restaurant looked like it was trying to give off the impression of being an old-fashioned rustic eatery, despite its massive array of glistening windows. Redwood paneling and artfully aged iron girders contributed to this. A wrinkled menu was posted at the door in a little glass case with tiny light bulbs around it and a rusty horseshoe nailed to its thick wooden frame. Wally looked through the glass. A hamburger was $12. A pint of Blue Swordfish Pale Ale was $6. Wally looked at his watch. It was 3:20. Feeling apprehensive, he pulled up at the waistband of his Wranglers, licked his lips and opened the door.

Wally walked into the restaurant and scanned the room anxiously for Jim. Here the small-town eatery effect gave way to an equally rustic nautical theme. There was a compass and a stuffed swordfish mounted on the wall next to the big, shiny windows that captured a breathtaking view of the rugged cliff sides that led to the water below. A busty blond waitress was circulating the room under a set of huge wooden ceiling fans that spun very slowly above her head. Wally glanced around, avoiding the attention of the waitress for the time being, until he finally spotted Jim sitting at a small corner table at the back of the restaurant.

Jim was slouched down with a mostly-eaten plate of fries and a pint-glass of beer under the towering presence of the two walls behind him. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt and had a little bit of gray stubble on his chin. He was staring at his hands with an intense, pensive look on his face, and when Wally waved at him and walked over to the table he sat up and extended his hand. His eyes looked red and feverish, and he gave Wally a strange little smile.

“Hi, Jim, I’m sorry I’m late,” Wally said. “Thanks for waiting. I guess 20 minutes is kind of a long time for me to have keep you waiting.” Jim shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Wally sat down and indicated the glass in Jim’s hand. “How’s the beer?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jim, and then looked down at the beer and shrugged again. “It’s OK. Miller Hi-Life.”

“Oh,” said Wally. “I thought they served microbrew at this place or something.”

“Well, they do, I guess, but that stuff’s too damn expensive and I don’t think it’s any good anyway,” said Jim. He had a weird half-smile on his lips and his eyes seemed to flick around nervously, not settling for very long on Wally’s face.

“Oh,” said Wally. “Well, I might get myself one of those pints of Miller, too, now that I see you have one. I got pretty thirsty out there, and I have a headache, too. Those long bus trips always give me motion sickness. There was the nicest girl on the bus, and pretty too- I actually thought I was going to throw up and have a seizure on her lap!”

“Ha ha,” said Jim.

“I’ve been doing pretty well,” Wally offered. “You know, nothing special. I have a little one-bedroom unit all to myself, which is nice. My seizures are still bothering me, a little bit, but other than that I’ve been fine. I’ve been watching a lot of Lost, lately. And Numbers, too. Good shows- I know you and your anti-TV ways, and I still mainly agree, but there are a few dramas out there that I think are worth watching.”

“Really.” said Jim. He stared at his hands with burning eyes.

After a while, the waitress came over with a pitcher of water and filled up Jim’s glass. She smiled and leaned against the side of the booth. “So you do have other friends!” she said. “I knew it! Who’s this handsome gentleman?”

Jim’s demeanor changed dramatically. A few of the wrinkles in his face smoothed out and he became the picture of a relaxed older gentleman out for lunch with his friend. He looked up, smiled and gave a lighthearted laugh.

“Hey, baby, I just have a lot of free time, that’s all! Is that so wrong? This is my old friend Wally, from college in San Francisco. We’ve known each other for a long, long time. We came down here years ago, before this restaurant was even built, and probably before you were even born!”

The waitress laughed and looked at Wally. “Your friend’s a dirty old man!” she said. “He drives us all crazy here! Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Miller, and can I have a menu please?”

“Sure, no problem!” The waitress giggled and walked away.

“Do you come here a lot?” Wally asked, surprised. Then he winked at Jim. “Does the wife know?”

“We’ve been divorced for ten years.” Jim had stopped grinning and was looking in the general direction of the floor with the same strange look on his face.

“Oh, wow. That’s too bad. Cindy was great.”

Jim shrugged.

“I live down here now. I left San Francisco for good ten years ago, you know. I’ve been living out in Monterey and driving down to Big Sur every weekend. There’s a lot of bullshit now-” he motioned around the room, indicating the restaurant, “but there’s also still a lot of undeveloped nature and it has its other advantages.”

The waitress came back up to the table with Wally’s beer.

“Have you decided yet?” she asked nicely, setting down the beer and posing with her pen and paper. “I’m not talking to you anymore,” she said to Jim, and he shrugged elaborately and looked away.

“Oh, I’ll just have a Special Joe hamburger with sweet pickle sauce,” said Wally. “The picture on the menu makes it look so good.”

“Sure, it’s our biggest favorite,” she said, showing plenty of cleavage as she picked up Wally’s menu. “It comes with a side of salad. What kind of dressing would you like? We have raspberry vinaigrette, garlic tahini, creamy cilantro, and ranch.”

“I’d like French, please.”

The waitress looked put out.“We actually don’t have French.”

“Oh, ok. Well, ranch, then,” said Wally.

“Sure!” The waitress scribbled on her pad with a flourish and walked away.

When the waitress left, Wally picked up his napkin and set it on his lap. “So. What is this thing that you wanted to show me? I have to say, I’m curious. That message on my phone really left me guessing. I’ve been wondering about it all week; I mean, we haven’t really been in touch the last few years, so it was kind of a surprise to hear from you. What was all that about the universe? You sounded pretty excited about it, whatever it was. Oh, and don’t be sorry about not calling me sooner, if that’s what you were apologizing for. I know we haven’t been in the best touch lately, but it’s partly my fault too. I was putting in a lot of overtime at my job so I never had much free time anyway. It’s ok. So what is it? You can tell me!” He punched Jim’s shoulder over the table.

Jim shrugged again and stared into his beer. “Well, it’s not something that I can really describe. It’s more like something you’re going to have to see for yourself. We can go there when you’re done eating.”

“I’ll try to finish quickly, then,” said Wally, red-faced with the desire to please.

“Take your time,” said Jim. “We can go anytime, day or night. Of course, it all depends on when you want to get back home. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Oh, just as long as I make it back for work by Monday, any time’s fine. I guess the last bus back today leaves at seven, but I could go back tomorrow too. I haven’t been driving because of my seizures, you know. ”

“That’s too bad,” said Jim. Something that Wally said had made Jim’s eyes twitch.

“Well, I’ve been managing okay. I’m used to them by now- forty years ought to do that. They didn’t even happen for the longest time and then all of a sudden, BAM! Oh well.”

Jim rested his forehead on his hand and stared into his beer. “My God,” he muttered, quietly, and then, after a moment, “Wally, I want to be honest with you. To get to the place we’re going, we’re going to be driving down some rough unpaved roads and then we’ll have to walk up a trail through the woods. And then when we get there, well… it’s definitely going to be… physical. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“I can handle it,” said Wally firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, alright then,” said Jim. “But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

The waitress came up to their table. “Burger and salad!” she announced, sliding the plate in front of Wally.

September 1967

Wally was sitting in the back seat of Jim’s blue van with Susan by his side. Jim was driving with Cindy in the front seat. Gary was sprawled out in the middle row of seats. It was a beautiful spring day and Wally felt a feeling of intense joy every time they would climb a hill and he could see the San Francisco bay spread out and glistening blue below them. It was warm enough to open the windows, and the sun shone on Susan’s wild brown hair and brought out red and golden tones that had been hidden in the shadows. Everyone was laughing and joking and having a wonderful time.

They turned onto Oak street and drove by the park. Here the sun gave way to a blissful shade and the smell of eucalyptus trees. Wally loved the way the bark peeled off the eucalyptus in chunky strands that you could pull off easily with your fingers. Here and there in the grass there were groups of people sitting on blankets, having picnics, playing music or just enjoying the sun. Here Jim slowed down a little because they were looking for people they knew. Jim touched Cindy’s arm and pointed at a girl walking down the path playing a tiny ukulele.

“That’s Anne,” he said. “Her dad was a spy in World War Two but now he has a peg-leg and does nothing but sit around and smoke grass all day.”

“I wish he was my dad,” said Cindy.

A short, squat figure with a cowboy hat, stringy brown hair, an embroidered leather jacket and an acoustic guitar was making his way in the other direction, making violent strumming motions and weaving back and forth. He saluted Anne as she passed.

“Jim, hey, wait, look, it’s the troll guy!” said Gary, leaning forward and smacking the window with his open hand. “Pull over!”

Jim laughed, pulled over, and reached over Cindy’s lap to slide open the door next to Gary. Cindy giggled.

“Hey!” Jim shouted. “C’mere!”

The troll guy wobbled over to the door and struck a pose. He strummed a chord on his guitar.

“CHAIN CHAIN CHAIN, CHAIN OF FOOLS!” he yelled. “ALL RIGHT! WHOO! YOU’RE LUCKY, MAN, YOU’RE LUCKY HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!”

“Yeah!” Jim yelled back. “All right! Whoo!”

Wally was awestruck. “Are you coming to Big Sur with us?” he shouted to the troll guy.

“HELL YEAH I’M COMING TO BIG SUR!” the Troll Guy screamed. “YEAH! THANK YOU VERY MUCH! THANK YOU!” He stuck his leg into the van, balancing his guitar on his knee and struggling to hoist himself up. For a second he was poised perfectly on the brink of ending up on Wally’s lap, and then he slumped over onto the floor with his legs flailing out into the street. His guitar fell into the gutter with a horrible clatter.

“This cat needs to leave the van,” said Jim, quietly. “Gary? Get him out.”

Gary sat up, crawled over the Troll Guy’s back into the street, and then grabbed the Troll Guy’s arms and lifted him out of the van and back onto the sidewalk. The Troll Guy, perturbed, kicked and flailed in reply.

“WHATTHEFUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME, MAN? WHAT THE FUCK! GET OFFA ME, MAN! GET OFFA ME!”

“OW!” yelled Gary as the troll guy’s foot connected with his shin. He shook his fist in the troll guy’s face and then climbed quickly back into the van and slammed the door.

The troll guy took a shaky step back and saluted. They all watched him silently as they drove away.

“All right, well, fuck the city anyway! Let’s go!” cried Jim. “Into the wilderness! Let’s leave this fucking city to blow itself to pieces while we’re gone!”

Wally lay back in his seat and looked around the van anxiously. He hoped his companions weren’t angry about the troll guy, because he desperately wanted them all to be happy with him. He had never felt so free in his entire life. His dad would probably disown him if he saw the crowd in the van.

“I’m glad I ran into all of you today,” he said. “I was just going to do some schoolwork today but then I ran into all of you. Then I remembered that you had said you were going to Big Sur when I met you last week, but you never said anything about having an extra seat. But you do have an extra seat, and now here I am!”

“Right on,” said Jim. Wally gazed at Susan, but she was looking out the window.

“I think I’m going to grow a beard,” Wally said, after a few seconds of silence.

June 2009

The road Jim was driving meandered through beautiful little groves of pine and redwood, down into dim little valleys where the sunlight was hidden by hundreds of waving branches and then out onto a rocky hilltop covered in sage and wild golden oats. Wally caught a dizzying glimpse of the sea before they plunged abruptly down into another little pine-wooded valley.

Their course followed a small winding creek for a time and then branched up onto another dizzying hillside. After what seemed like a long time Jim slowed down and carefully turned onto a smaller side road, which was so full of potholes that even at a low speed Wally had to brace himself against the dashboard to keep his head from hitting the window. The patchy pavement eventually turned into gravel and then into dirt. Jim’s white truck was taking Wally further away from civilization than he had gone in a long time.

“Reminds me of our trip down here back in the day,” said Wally. “We were such kids then, weren’t we? We just had a blast.”

“We sure did,” said Jim. His eyes flicked in Wally’s direction and then turned back again to the road.

“It’s a blast coming out here again, actually,” said Wally.

“Mmm,” said Jim.

After a few more minutes, Jim pulled to the side of the road and cut the engine.

“Well, here we are,” he said. “Where we’re going is a trailer up the hill. What I’m going to show you is inside. It’ll be about a quarter-mile walk.” They got out of the truck. Wally looked around and saw to his surprise that they were parked in a fairly well-used looking parking area.

“Do a lot of people come up here?” Wally asked as Jim led him back down the road and up a little trail that led up the hill and into the forest.

“Not too many,” said Jim, “But the guy who owns this trailer likes to make it available.”

“Oh,” said Wally. He thought about this. “Available for what?” he asked, finally. But Jim had already started up the hillside. After a second, Wally followed.

After roughly a quarter of a mile they reached a clearing, where a rusty old trailer was parked between two redwood trees up the narrow dirt trail that led out of the parking area. It wasn’t a mobile home, as Wally had been expecting, but a very small camper trailer with loose chains still hanging from its hitch at the front that seemed like they were only waiting for a truck or van to come along and drag it to some sunny, less lonesome spot. The tires, however, had long since gone flat, and rival chains had been welded to the trailer’s axles and hooked around both sturdy redwood trees. The camper had heavy black curtains hung from both windows and the door was locked with a tough-looking padlock.

As they approached, a large dog ran out from a hiding place somewhere behind the camper and snapped to the end of its chain. It made a horrible snarling racket that only calmed down when Jim produced a piece of jerky from his pocket and threw it in the dog’s direction. It snuffled around in the dirt and started snapping up the dried meat.

Jim produced a key from pocket and nodded his head towards the door.

“Ok,” he said. “It’s time to talk about rules now.” Jim’s tone had become businesslike. “The man who owns this trailer gave me this key to use if he wasn’t home, which was an amazing display of trust. That means that we need to leave this place exactly the way we found it. When you go in there, don’t touch anything except the things that I say you can touch. You can sit or lie on the bed, but don’t mess around with anything else unless I specifically say so. This is important, Wally. I don’t know how many keys this guy has given out; usually people come and go under his strict supervision. I think it’s an honor that he trusts me like this. Be careful, and don’t fuck it up.”

“Ok,” said Wally, meekly.

Jim turned silently and opened the padlock. It made a sharp snapping sound as it opened. Jim put the padlock in his jacket pocket, opened the door, and stepped up into the camper. It rocked slightly after he was gone.

Wally stood outside, half-afraid to follow. He uncertainly put his foot on the step and then took it off again. There was something solemn and lonely about the little camper on its rocky hillside under the towering trees that dangled dripping moss over its roof. The redwood trees almost blocked out the sky and a rising fog made everything damp and gloomy.

Wally was still standing on the path when Jim stuck his head out of the trailer, saw Wally standing there, and laughed.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Wally, I didn’t mean to scare you off. This is supposed to be fun! Come on in. And latch the door behind you, will you?”

Inside the camper, Wally blinked and shuffled in almost complete darkness. It smelled like musty blankets and old cigarette smoke, and there seemed to be a lot of clutter around his feet on the floor. Jim was fumbling around with an old camping lantern, and finally got it to produce a dim orange light, by which Wally could see the interior of the camper.

There was a miniature sink and stove with shabby cabinets mounted on the walls above them. On the other side, there was a bench that was overflowing with piles of clothes, books, and nameless odds and ends. On the far wall, in what might be called the farthest interior of the camper, there was a little bed with a high shelf above it that was stacked up with boxes. The bed was made with a scraggly wool blanket and two pillows with blue pillowcases. Cups, books, random clothes, empty jugs and overflowing ash trays were scattered around the floor next to the bed.

Jim had told Wally he could sit on the bed, so that was where he sat. He folded his hands and watched Jim set the lantern on the counter and take another key out of his pocket.

“Here’s the deal,” said Jim. “I’m going to open this cabinet and take out a box. Then I’m going to step outside for a while. Take off your clothes, open the box, lie down on the bed, and just let whatever happens, happen. When you’re ready, come outside and we can talk.”

Wally blanched. “Take off my… w-what do you mean, ‘take off my clothes?’” he stammered. He was starting to feel a little overwhelmed.

“Just that,” said Jim. “You’ll see what I mean when the time comes. It doesn’t have anything to do with me, either, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’ll just be you and the alien!”

Jim burst out in peals of delighted laughter.

“The… what?” Wally asked. His head was swimming.

Wally opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked up at Jim with pleading eyes. “You’re a pretty funny guy, you know that, Jim?” he said.

Jim unlocked one of the cabinet doors, from which he produced a surprisingly large wooden box with a hinged top. It seemed heavy, and he strained to set it down gently on the floor next to the bed. He looked directly into Wally’s eyes, and Wally could see that the burning, manic look had returned.

“Trust me, Wally,” he said. “All that tripping we did back in the day was bullshit compared to this. You thought it was all over, didn’t you? Well, this is the real trip, the definitive trip. The genuine article. You’ve been talking a lot about our road trip to Big Sur in college. You keep talking about how great it was. Well, we did something awful to you that day, whether you know it or not. When I apologized in that message, it wasn’t because of anything recent, Wally. I fucked you over that day, badly and permanently. This is how I want to make it up to you. I’m serious, Wally. I’m not trying to fuck with you. Trust me.”

Jim’s eyes were wet, and he stood there next to Wally for several seconds, staring into space. Then he abruptly left the camper, slamming the screen door behind him, and Wally was alone.

Feeling overwhelmed and a little breathless, Wally tried to concentrate on looking around the room. There was a stack of books next to the bed; he saw a lot of Piers Anthony, Arthur C. Clarke, and Orson Scott Card titles, and a lot of thick paperback novels with brightly-printed covers and names like “Star Quest.” The guy was a science fiction nut. Was that what Jim had meant by “alien?” The clock was ticking and Wally still had his clothes on.

After slowly examining the rest of the room, Wally confronted the box. His curiosity was starting to get the better of him. He opened the lid gingerly and peeked inside. It was too dark to see anything. He opened the box all the way and let the lid rest against the bed. Nothing happened. Wally got up, picked up the lantern, and slowly walked back to the box. He held the lantern at arm’s length and carefully filled the box with light.

There was a large, dark object at the bottom of the box, but no details emerged in the lantern’s light. The object seemed inert and completely featureless. Wally stood still. The only sound he heard was his own breathing, which was a little faster than usual. His hand that was holding the lantern was trembling, and it made the light quiver slightly as it fell into the box. There was a horrible illusion of movement from the dark object and Wally impulsively stepped back and fled to the door, holding the lantern tightly in his hand.

“Jim?” he called, hoarsely. It was starting to get dark already, as the thick fog smothered the late-afternoon sun. There was no sign of Jim anywhere. Wally took a shaky step down, stood on the trail that led to the road, and looked around. He felt completely alone. Even the dog had disappeared into its hiding place, and made no sound when Wally left the camper. The air was cold on his skin and he felt a few drops of mist land on his face.

Quickly, Wally set the lantern down on the stoop and set off down the trail back to the truck. He was almost all the way back to the parking area when he finally spotted the light of Jim’s cigarette down by the road. Wally took a deep breath and noticed that his heart was pounding. Suddenly embarrassed and frightened that Jim would see him, he turned around and walked quietly back to the camper. It was now or never. He climbed the step, picked up the lantern, went inside, and latched the door behind him. Then he set the lantern back on the counter, grabbed the waistband of his Wranglers, pulled them down to his ankles, and quickly sat on the bed. Then he resolutely stripped off his shirt.

Nothing happened. Somewhere in the forest outside a woodpecker was pecking away at a tree. It made a loud, intermittent tapping sound. The air of the trailer was cold on his bare skin and he began to shiver slightly. His mind reeled from all the information that Jim had just given him. How had Jim done him wrong? Their trip to Big Sur in college had been amazing.

After a few minutes of deep thought, Wally noticed something odd. A warmness was spreading in the air just over the hairs on his upper thighs. He jumped, opened his eyes, and instantly came to his senses. The lantern started to flicker and then, suddenly, went out. The only light was a pale blue smudge of outside light that lit up a small patch of floor under the curtains. The warmth spread, in the dark, to Wally’s stomach, and then something dropped, suddenly, onto his lap. Wally shrieked.

There was a banging sound from the outside of the camper and Jim’s voice shouted, “Settle down in there, Wally, I promise you you are OK!”

A wonderful feeling was spreading over Wally’s unmentionables. He stopped screaming and froze. The thing was pulsing around on Wally’s naked lap and it didn’t feel bad, much to Wally’s surprise and confusion. He bit his lip and looked around.

“You alright in there, Wally?” Jim asked.

“Fine,” Wally croaked, flicking his eyes for a second in the direction of the door. “Don’t come in,” he added.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Jim, and Wally heard his footsteps retreat into the woods.

The next few moments were very strange. The pulsing stopped and a feeling of purpose and direction came into the movement of the thing on Wally’s lap. Millions of tiny hairs sprouted on the bottom surface of the thing and started propelling it, amoeba-like, to cling to the surface of Wally’s stomach. It spread out, embracing his body with quickly sprouting tentacle-arms, and gently crept up his back and sides.

As the seconds passed, the object grew in size to slowly cover his body- first his torso, then his lap and thighs and then his legs and finally his feet, sucking his toes into itself one by one. This made Wally thrash around a little in protest, but the object was firm and Wally soon quieted down a little. It didn’t seem to be hurting him. The feeling of absorption was a warm feeling, embracing, tickling, so surprisingly benign that after only a moment Wally stopped struggling altogether and leaned back submissively onto the trailer wall. He felt like he was beyond terror, so much so that he actually felt a strange feeling of calm and acceptance.

Wally reached out a tentative finger and touched the object’s surface. It felt like the skin of a peach, smooth but slightly fuzzy, and yet somehow tremblingly receptive to his touch. A feeling of warmth spread from his finger and turned into a shiver that ran up his arm and all the way down his spine. It felt like a bolt of lightening and it made him cry out again in surprise. Then, the object gently sucked his finger into its mass and pulled his hand down under its surface.

From Wally’s chest the object started slowly spreading up to his chin, and Wally arched his back and gasped as it engulfed his head. Warm, fuzzy tentacles gently nudged themselves into his mouth, forcing his lips to part. He could feel them tickling at the inside wall of his cheek. Wally gulped. His whole body was tingling. Something was happening, something purposeful, some strange event that Wally could only dimly perceive. Tiny tentacles were gently playing with his tonsils. His head felt light and muddled. Bright lights started dancing in the edges of his vision, and he had the strange feeling of being right on the verge of something, but having no idea at all what it was.

Then, suddenly, the world went black and Wally collapsed on the bed as if he’d been shot.

September 1967

Wally was standing with the others in the center of a small open space in the middle of a pretty little redwood grove, ankle-deep in the giant clover and ferns that blanketed the forest floor.

“This is it,” said Jim. “We can set up the tents over there, on that little flat area. Tomorrow, if we feel like it, we can hike up to the hot springs.”

“Hot springs! What’s that?” asked Wally.

“Warm water flows up from the ground,” said Jim. “Makes a pool. Groovy, huh? Just like taking a bath outside.”

“Oh,” said Wally.

Cindy and Susan were pirouetting around the grove, making dramatic hand movements and darting back and forth between the trees, laughing hysterically. Gary, who seemed like a practical man, was dragging two large canvas bags through the clover toward the little flat area.

“Jim and me get the big tent!” Cindy yelled.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” said Susan. “Why should you two get the big tent? There’s three of us. Anyway, it’s not like you two are going to get any sleep. Oh, if I were only that lucky!“ Gary laughed.

Wally blushed and smiled to himself. He felt like a stab of fuzzy warmth had just penetrated his heart.

“Y’all can go fuck yourselves,” yelled Jim. “Pardon my language. Ladies. Gentleman. My lady and I would like a quiet place to repose undisturbed, and this IS my equipment that I’ve kindly donated to the cause today, after all. Our nocturnal activities need not be mentioned. If any two of you need a place to yourselves, may I suggest the open woods?“

“Come on, Gary, don’t do that,” said Susan, running over to the flat spot and taking a metal pole out of Gary’s hand. “Let Jim do the work if he wants to be like that. Let’s go exploring.”

“All right,” said Gary, wiping his face with his hand and smiling, taking her hand. “Where do you want to go?”

“Oh, anywhere!” said Susan. “I’ve never been in a redwood forest before.”

“Can I come too?” asked Wally. “I’ve never been in a redwood forest before, either. I wouldn’t mind taking a little look around.”

There was a moment of silence. “Sure, Wally,” said Susan, finally. “You can come. Let’s go now, then.”

“I’m coming too, then.“ said Cindy. “Jim, it’s all yours.”

They turned around and headed up a little trail that branched out from the flat spot. Cindy ran up to Susan and took her by the arm. They walked like that, ahead of Wally and Gary, who went along side-by-side in silence.

Wally used the time to think hard about what he would say to Susan next. He wanted it to be something good, to help her realize that there were other men in the party besides Gary and his strange, silent ways, which Wally was starting to mildly resent. “So, where did you grow up?” he thought. “Do you like camping?” Too mundane. “I’ve never been in a redwood forest before.” He’d already said that. Watching Susan and Cindy’s tanned, intertwined arms ahead of him gave him a sweet stabbing sensation in his heart.

The girls disappeared around a bend and then Wally heard Susan yell.

“Look! Mushrooms!” she said.

Wally and Gary walked around the bend. They had reached a clearing in the forest, which was bordered by a grassy meadow. In a little hollow in the grass was indeed a circle of the most perfectly Alice-in-Wonderland-looking mushrooms that Wally had ever seen. Their wide, reddish-brown caps stretched out elegantly on their long white bases, each sporting a sprinkling of small white spots. The bigger mushrooms were as wide as Wally’s palm, forming the very image of perfect toadstools. Others were smaller, almost buds, just barely peeping out of the soil.

“Do you think we can eat them?” asked Susan.

“I don’t know,” said Gary. “Jim would be the one to ask. I guess we could pick them and show him them and see what he thinks.“

Susan ran up and plucked them all out of the soil, placing them carefully in the front pocket of her long dress.

“I wonder if they’re psychedelic?”

“Could be,” said Gary.

“They look just like amanita! Jim says amanita is magical!” said Cindy. “Come on, let’s go show him!”

Back at the clearing, Jim was standing in a sea of canvas, patiently putting together a pile of metal rods. When the rod got to be a certain length, he would set it on the ground and then it would immediately fall apart. Then he would pick it back up and put it back together.

“I’ll do the tents,” said Gary. “The girls have a mushroom question.”

“Show me,” said Jim.

Gary laughed and shook his head.

“Can I see?” asked Wally, face burning. Susan handed him a mushroom. He held it in his shaking hands and examined its earthy base, its delicate, crinkled gills.

“What would it do if it was poisonous?” he asked.
Susan rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, I guess we’d have to go get our stomachs pumped or something. Why?”

Wally put the mushroom in his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Susan shouted, standing up. Her face turned pale and all the childish sulkiness in her voice was gone.

“It tastes ok,” said Wally, shrugging. He swallowed.

Susan stood next to him uncertainly for a second and then sat back down and sighed. “Well, at least now we’ll know what they do, I guess.“ She took another mushroom out of her pocket and started playing with it in the same way she had played with the other mushroom.

Time passed slowly. Gary slowly, methodically got the tent poles and canvas in order. After 30 minutes, Jim and Cindy had failed to return. “I know what they’re doing,” grumbled Susan.

Wally was laying in the clover, eyes closed.

“Hey, Wally,” said Susan. “D’you feel anything yet?”

“I don’t know,” said Wally. “I feel a little funny.”

“What kind of funny?” asked Susan.

“Just kind of a stomachache,” he said.

“Oh.” said Susan. She got up and started pacing back and forth in front of the log.

A little while later Jim and Cindy burst into the clearing.

“Well, that was a nice excursion,” said Jim. Cindy giggled.

“What’s the story?” asked Susan. She glared at Cindy. “With the mushrooms, I mean?”

Jim shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. I hate to say it, but I think we should just drop it, actually. I’ve never gathered mushrooms around here before, so I don’t know if there are any other similar-looking species around here that might be poisonous. I couldn’t find any more, anyway. Better not to eat them. But hey, if you and Gary want to take a walk and try to find another patch of them, just for kicks, us three can start getting the fire ready…”

Susan grabbed Jim’s sleeve and steered him away from the others. “Can I talk to you?” she whispered.

They walked a little way off into the trees. When they had taken enough paces to loose sight of the camp, they stopped and Jim turned to face Susan. “What is it?” he said.

“Wally ate one of the mushrooms,” said Susan. “I think he was trying to impress me. I don’t think he gets that Gary and I… well, you know how Wally is.”

“When did he eat it?” asked Jim.

“Not long ago… right after you left.”

“Hmm.” said Jim. His face was pensive.

Susan’s face was pale and worried. “D’you think… I mean… could he be… well… d’you think we should all go back to town and try to get him some help?”

Jim thought for a minute. Then his face clouded and he scowled. “Dammit, no, I don’t want to call off our camping trip for that bastard. We didn’t ask him to come along, and nobody made him eat that mushroom. It’s his own damn fault if he gets sick.”

Susan looked at the ground. “It is kind of my fault, I guess, I was teasing Gary about you not letting us eat the mushrooms, I guess I made them sound really nice…”

“Wally’s an idiot.” said Jim. “Come on, let’s go back and have a good time. Listen. If it’s Amanita, he’ll have an intense trip, maybe shake and get sick a little bit. Most people dry them first, you know, instead of eating them fresh. I didn’t want to spoil your fun earlier, that’s why I didn’t tell you that. But he’ll be fine. You say he only ate one, right?”

Susan nodded. “A small one.”

“We should just go back, start the fire, relax. I’ll talk to him and maybe get him to make himself puke or something once he understands what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll watch him, and if anything happens, I’ll take care of it. It’s not your fault.”

They headed back to the camp. “There you are,” said Cindy, “I was just looking all over for you. Let’s start the fire!” Cindy looked at Susan and Susan looked at the ground. Cindy ran over to her and put her arm around Susan’s shoulders. “You look so pale all of a sudden,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

From his resting place in the clover, Wally made a sound that sounded like a combination of a gargle and a yell.

Jim, Susan, Cindy and Gary ran over to where Wally lay. “Oh shit,” said Susan. “Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!”

Wally was sprawled out on his back, arms splayed, eyes open but glazed. His lips were pursed, his teeth were clenched, and he was breathing laboriously through them, little drops of spittle flying out of his mouth. Once and a while he would make a horrible cry and flop his arms up and down in a violent but pointless motion.

“Oh, fuck.” said Gary. “He ate one, didn’t he?”Susan ground her fist into her teeth and started to cry.

“Oh my God what’ll we do what’ll we do oh my God he’s dying what’ll we do, we’re murderers, we’re murderers! What’ll we do? We have to take him to the hospital, come on, what are we doing? Oh, we should never have let him come! Oh my God, this is the worst thing that could have ever happened! Oh my God, oh my God!”

“There goes our camping trip,” said Gary. “Shit. I’m glad we didn’t eat any.”

Jim stood over Wally thoughtfully. He watched Wally’s chest rise and fall.

“You know, I think he’s going to be OK right here, where we are,” said Jim. “I don’t think we have to go anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” asked Susan, wringing her hands.

Jim knelt down and took Wally’s wrist, feeling his heartbeat. “It’s fast, but it’s strong,” he said. He put his hand on Wally’s throat. “Nothing obstructing his windpipe.” Jim looked down at Wally thoughtfully. “I think what he really needs is just a little time to sleep it off.”

“He looks pretty bad, Jim,” said Cindy, doubtfully. “I’d feel awful just leaving him like this. What if he really is dying?”

They all stood around Wally’s prone body, looking down at him.

“We’d have to drive a pretty long way to get to the nearest hospital,” Jim said, after a while. “If he’s really dying, it’d be too late by then. Then we’d have to drive back out in the dark and stay in Carmel or someplace. In a hotel.”

“Sounds like a drag,” said Gary.

On the ground, Wally started making a series of regular hacking sounds. He spluttered, and a bubble of vomit emerged from his mouth and ran down the sides of his face. His breath started coming in wet gasps.

“Hey, get him on his side, quick!” Jim shouted. They rolled him over and he spluttered face-down in the wet clover.

“Ok, here’s what we do,” said Jim. “It’s a good sign that he puked. It’ll keep more poison from being absorbed. See, he’s looking better already! We’ll put him in the big tent, keep him covered and warm- we can put my raincoat under his head in case he pukes again. Cindy and I’ll take the small tent. You two can sleep in there with him tonight, make sure he’s breathing ok, just watch over him until he wakes up, ok?”

They all nodded. Susan wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress.

“We can still make a campfire,” said Jim, shrugging. “It doesn’t have to be a bad time. We have those hotdogs, and two bottles of whiskey. Let’s set it up. I could use a drink right now, actually.”

“Ok,“ said Susan, sniffing. “You’re right, he does look a lot better. We’ll watch him ok. All a hospital would do is pump his stomach anyway, and he did that himself already, I guess.”

“I’ll get my guitar, too,” said Jim. “A little music is what he needs!”

Gary shook his head and laughed. “I’ll get the firewood ready,” he said. “We should get him out of here first, though.”

Jim and Gary each grabbed a leg. Wally’s head bounced over the ground all the way to the tent, leaving small streaks of vomit in its path.
* * *
A dim morning light was shining through the open flap of the army tent. Outside, Jim and Gary’s prone forms were lying on the clover next to a long, thin plume of smoke that was rising slowly into the air. Two empty whiskey bottles lay by their sides. Next to Wally, cocooned in blankets, Susan lay with her head gently turned to face the other tent wall. Her hair was gorgeously tangled, lying wild and golden-brown on her pillow. Wally felt very light, weak as if he’d just awoken from a high fever, with a tight knot in his stomach and a pounding head. There was a nasty-tasting film in his mouth and he licked his lips with a dessicated tongue.

“Susan?” he said. Her eyes opened wide and she sat up.

“Wally! You’re awake! How are you… how are you feeling?”

“Sick,” said Wally. “I don’t remember anything that happened last night at all. Was I tripping?”

“You were…” She paused for a moment as if lost in thought. “Yeah… you were tripping. Yeah, things were pretty crazy last night.” She laughed unnaturally loudly and flopped back down on the pillow.

“I don’t regret it,” said Wally. “I couldn’t regret anything that could have helped me to be here right now, with you.” He smiled serenely.

Susan opened her mouth, and then closed it again. “It’s pretty early, Wally. We still have some sleeping to do… g’night. Glad you’re awake,” she said, and flopped back down. Wally tried to move his head, but a wave of dizziness came over him and he stopped and lay still, content to simply lie there in bed watching Susan’s brow relax and her perfect lips slowly part as she drifted back to sleep.

June 2009

Somewhere, Wally was lying on a soft, comfortable surface. He felt cozy and dreamy. Soft flashes of light were appearing into his field of vision and then gently fading to dark purple swirls before dissolving into nothingness. Warmth, darkness, and a feeling of deep contentment permeated his soul. Wally stretched out luxuriously, enjoying the warmth and the tingling glow that he felt all over his body.

Giddy, sleepy, Wally thought about space. Millions and millions of miles, such vast distances, such cold and lonely emptiness. He imagined that he saw the moon traversing the Earth from a million miles away, both spheres turned into slim crescents by the position of the sun. Then the moon was gone and it was just the Earth floating there in his field of vision, so still, blue-white and serene. An indescribable shudder passed through his heart. It was the first time he had ever seen Earth from the perspective of an outsider. This idea tickled Wally, and he laughed out loud with wonder.

There was also information. Just outside of Wally’s consciousness he could feel a wall of knowledge, pressing just barely into his awareness but out there, somewhere, crowding noisily into his brain. Some of the images that popped into his head were very mundane and familiar, like the knowledge of having eggs for breakfast or buying something with a crumpled paper bill.

Other images refused to translate themselves into anything that made sense and intruded on Wally’s mind in a rush, threatening to overwhelm him with their strangeness. These were images that came from outside his brain. The feeling of food being absorbed directly through his skin, refreshing and good, and the surge of well-being he felt after such a meal. The way color looks on a planet with a different kind of atmosphere…

Personal memories flooded into Wally’s awareness then, memories of things that he had forgotten or not been aware of. Things that happened while he was unconscious, or even outside of his presence. Thoughts from Jim’s head. What had happened in Big Sur.

“They didn’t really care if I lived or died,” he thought. “Jim thought I was an idiot.” The thought drifted into his head and then drifted out again, soft and meaningless. He knew everything. But nothing mattered. He felt completely still. Nothing mattered. Everything was warm and serene. Gradually, he became aware of a hand on his shoulder. He struggled to open his eyes.

“Jim.” he said. Like waking up from a dream, the warmth and comfort was gone. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“What just happened to me?” he asked. Then he looked down and remembered that he was naked, his Wranglers and t-shirt crumpled up in a heap on the floor. Embarrassed, he hurried to put them on.

Jim shrugged. “Who knows?” he said. “It’s a mystery.” He was quiet for a moment.

“This is weird, but I… I think I… I think I saw some stuff.” said Wally. He rubbed his eyes. “Stuff in my head. From your head. About Big Sur.”

“Right,” said Jim. He coughed. “Look at it this way, Wally. This may have been the most amazing experience of your life, and I’m not joking.” Jim paused and bit his lip. “I know what you must be thinking right now, and God knows I had my doubts about bringing you here. I’ll tell you something, though- before we talk about Big Sur. I just want you to know that the experience that I had here reaffirmed my faith in life, and, and, I don’t know…”

Jim uncharacteristically struggled for words.

“Think of it as… think of it as like a kind of therapy. That’s what I try to do. That’s why I wanted to get in touch with you again, and have you come here., because I saw some things from your head, too, and I thought this might help you. Look, Wally. I know what you think about me, about how great my life is, but, well, to tell you the truth after college things kind of went downhill for me. I was at the end of my rope when I left San Francisco ten years ago. That city’s not what it used to be. You know, there was a window of time- a very small window- when it seemed like something truly amazing was about to happen there. It was a burst of potential… subversive even… but hell, I don’t know. I was such an arrogant bastard.”

“No you weren’t!” protested Wally, but Jim waved him aside.

“Yes, I was. I was an arrogant fucking prick, and I thought I had everything figured out. Everything did actually work out for me fairly well, as you know, and I guess I can’t complain, but somehow after a while it just stopped being OK. Cindy left me. That was right before I got my inheritance, ironically enough. I heard she’s remarried and working for a real estate company now. Only a few more years left until retirement now, I guess.”

Jim sighed.

“It’s amazing,” he said, ¨How life can seem so mysterious and exciting when you’re young and then just turn into a big waste of time.”

Wally’s eyes filled with tears. “What you’ve had is still better than my life! At least you had something! At least you had a wife, for a while, you know, someone to be with. And now you have money! I never had anything. Not even a girlfriend. Do you know, Susan never really talked to me after that trip to Big Sur, and I actually thought it was because she was freaked out about having slept with me? I loved the memory of that night. Now, I know it didn’t mean anything. I never had anything. All I have now is a brain injury,” he said. “That’s what I ended up with.”

The new memories had somehow clicked into place in Wally’s brain and now that the serenity was gone Wally seemed to have found a deep vein of bitterness in his soul.

“True,” said Jim, “but strangely enough a brain injury is exactly what I had in mind for myself. I had already bought the gun and had it ready. I was going to drive out to the Ventana Wilderness, park in the parking lot, and then just walk off trail until I found the right spot to blow my fucking brains out. I stopped at a bar to get a drink before I did it. That’s where I met the guy who owns this trailer. I had lost all hope in the world until that day.” Jim paused for a moment, looking at his hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say, Wally, is that just because life has been a waste of time doesn’t mean it will continue to be.”

Wally felt a rush of tears welling up in his eyes. He rested his head in his hands and started to sob with every ounce of strength in his body.

“I ate a bad mushroom,” Wally said, “and all of you knew it and didn’t even try to help.” Wally covered his eyes with his palm.

“That’s when my seizures started,” he said in a lower voice.

“I know,” said Jim.

“Susan and I never… never made love. It was all in my head.”

“I know,” said Jim.

“I was a pain in all of your asses and you wished I never came. I was never your friend at all. I-” Wally’s body was racked with sobs. “I made myself sick with that mushroom for nothing. But I never saw a doctor afterward. And then when my seizures started I guess I never really thought about the mushroom, God, I was such a pathetic idiot. And that was the best time in my life, too. After that, I just graduated college, lived alone, and worked. Worked and lived alone. All that excitement… it just went away and was gone.”

Jim sat down on the bed and put his arm around Wally’s shoulder. “Listen, Wally. I know you probably think I’m a piece of shit right now, and you’re right. I’m a horrible person. But you know, when you started having seizures I couldn’t sleep for weeks. I kept thinking, what if I had taken you to the hospital? I wrecked your health, and all because I didn’t want to ruin our fun. It was all my fault. I felt horrible about it, if that means anything to you. And still do.”

Wally sniffled.

“What happened just now… that thing.. was it really an alien? And did I… did it really… I mean… and why…?” Wally trailed off.

Jim laughed. “There we go,” he said. Don’t you think it’s strange that we’ve spent all this time talking about old history when we’re faced with that? An alien! You just had a very romantic night with an alien!”

Wally laughed a little through his tears. “Like I never did with Susan,” he said, and they both laughed.

“You know, you can come back here sometime,” said Jim. “Give me a call. Maybe, eventually, we’ll get to understand it better. This is real, Wally. This is a part of the world that humanity has never encountered before. It’s here, right now, for us. Not for some magical person in some magical time that’s gone.”

“Ok,” said Wally. “Sure. I’d like that.”

They sat in the camper and stared into the darkness in silence. After a while, as if on cue, they both got up, walked out of the camper, and stood for a while under the trees beneath a startlingly starry sky.