Exit God Out - Book One - The Unexpected Terrestrial

Exit God Out Book One: The Unexpected Terrestrial - Chapter 16

Potholes were no match for the truck as it rode smoothly onward up the long drive into the campground. The site was small but uniquely quaint and old, winding its way around the top edge of a large mountain that overlooked a balletic valley. In the middle was another large hill oddly out of place. In the early morning and late evening, when the sun was not fully in the sky, the sunlight cast shadows around the hill and flirted with all the colors of the wild flowers as they moved to the tune of the breezes. You could sit on the edge of the campground embankment, dangle your feet and stare at the wonderment for hours. And if you're in your early twenties, beer could make the colors bolder.

The campground was small enough to get to know everyone within hours. The young men landed just as people were eating dinner, and they waved at every camper as they drove in, pretending to know them. The magic of the embankment was calling as they came to a stop in one of the last spots left. Before they finished unloading the truck, Jackson and Sean raced over to take in the view as they always did. It was tradition.

The sun was just dropping and the leftover light spread across the plains, but the hill in the middle was different. The two men noticed it had an eight-foot high chain fence that reached up and into the hillside, swooping back down to join at a massive set of iron gates. Sean said it felt institutional, as if the fence was telling everyone they were not welcome. There was a road coming out of the hill from one side, but at the angle they stood at they could not see any front doors. It appeared that some type of building was hiding, as they watched cars and a truck go in and out the gates, and people disappear into the hill.

They sat quietly, feeling disgust for the destruction of their favorite habitat. As the sun sank behind the mountains, they ran back to help the others unload and pitch the tents for the night. Robert brought every creature comfort typical of a spoiled journalist. The other half of the truck contained the rest of the bags. The drive brought sleep early to Jackson, but the others made their rounds in attempt to accumulate new friends.

By the next morning on April 1, 2000, Robert, Eddie and Sean knew almost every camper. The winds blew warm on this foolish day, and everyone converged for what was to be the best party ever to hit the campsite, a claim loyally stated every year. Around 3pm, the bench began to fill with students and other youth, and the warm air wrapped around the participants as the flow of beverages blended sentences together. Some of the sober campers took turns keeping an eye on those that got too close to the bench on one side. It was dangerously steep, and one slip would find you twenty feet down the slope with a great road rash and looking for the rope dangling from a nearby tree.

There must have been almost two hundred people that evening, dancing and singing and enjoying life. A small band with unusual instruments broke out around 7pm, and the party began to fill the gravel roadways. The four men stuck together as much as possible, staying reasonably sober and keeping an eye on the bench. Being more mature, as Eddie and Robert tried convincing everyone, they took it upon themselves to look after the "little ones" when in truth, they were scouting for girls.

Jackson and Sean grabbed front row seats at the edge of the bench early to capture the sun going down over a snowcapped horizon. The mountains played a unique role in distributing light, and as the sun set, the light changed colors continually for what felt like a long time. By 7:30, the light turned a deep rich purple, so intense that neither Jackson nor Sean had ever seen such a shade of purple before. They sat motionless, trying not to miss the many profound color sweeps, when suddenly, a strange beam of light appeared. It started small and thin, growing into a large tunnel of brilliant yellow light that started at the top of the hill where the building was, stretching straight toward the sky as far as the best of eyes could track.

Not a soul on the bench that evening uttered a single word. They stopped what they were doing, dropping their instruments on the ground and walking up to the edge to see this oddity. For almost fifteen minutes, several hundred people stared at a beam that refused to relinquish them. Sean turned to Jackson as if to say what is it? Jackson was speechless. You could hear a pine needle drop, and the beam began to pulse. The crowd lit up.