Thunderbird

"I take it you're not a believer in little green men," he said.

I looked out into the desert, thinking about the things I had seen that day. I also thought about my conversation with Jeannie.

"No, I'm not."

"No?"

"No, definitely not. If there was some other alien life form, why on earth would everybody think it would look so stupid?"

"Quite."

I was quiet, again. I could sense something down there in the desert, very strong now, and I felt sure he could feel it, too.

"What's on your mind, Frannie?"

"Have you ever heard of the 'Thunderbird'?"

"Of course." He put on the same fake accent as Jeannie. "Old Indian Legend."

"So I've heard. But what does it say, exactly?"

"Well, there's the fable everyone knows—everyone but you, apparently. The legend is of a huge bird, with silver feathers, that brings thunder with the flapping of its wings, and shoots lightening out of its eyes. Some people believe it's real, some sort of prehistoric pterodactyl still flying around in the skies. Others think it's an eagle or a vulture. But that's just as silly."

"Why, because it's not real?"

"I didn't say that. I said it's not about a real bird."

I glanced at him out of the side of my eye. This was such a typical thing for him to say. I could tell we were on the verge of one the "Zen" conversations he liked to have.

"Well what is it, then?"

"It's a symbol, and a very important one. Hence, all the rituals and ceremonies honoring it."

"Then it's not real."

"Aren't symbols real, Frannie?"

"I don't know."

"No? Look at your friends in there."

Inside the house, turquoise and green strobe lights were pulsing and flashing madly to the electronic beat of "Blue Monday," and the dance floor had turned into a mosh pit. They were tossing around the green blow up alien like a beach ball.

"That's real. They know it's just a little piece of plastic, but that doesn't matter. They're having fun. They're releasing something."

"Yes, so what about the Thunderbird? Why is it so important?"

"Well If I told you it was about explaining the weather, what would you say?"

I looked into his silvery eyes, finding the answer I knew he wanted to hear.

"I would say that's as dumb as thinking it's a dinosaur."

"Or a little green man?"

"Yes, but . . . then, what does it really mean?"

"That's a complicated question. Not one thing, really. Some say it's a Nature God, some a Clown or a Trickster. It's been described as a consort of the Great Spirit in some versions, a messenger of truth in others. But the version I like best is the probably the most common, and the simplest."

"What's that?"

"That Thunderbird is a representation of the soul."

My arms prickled and I felt an icy chill travel up and down my spine.

"So what does it mean if you—if someone—sees one? That they're going to die?"

"What? No. You're thinking too narrowly. In the Thunderbird myth, the soul is like . . . a double, if you will. A kind of shadow self. It accompanies you through life. It's only in some religions that you have to die to find it."

"That's what makes Thunderbird so fascinating."

"What, exactly?"

"Well, its attribute. Did you know there are drawings and sculptures of birds—little stick figures—in adobe caves, right here in Roswell? And do you know what you always see? Even the oldest ones, the simplest ones, have the little stick figure holding a forked or a crooked staff. That is Thunderbird."

"The common assumption is that it represents lightning, and it does, but there's more to it than that."

"In most religions, the soul leaves, departs, flies upwards. But not in this myth. Thunderbird is the exact opposite. The sacred staff is the representation of descent, of the power of the gods coming down to earth, striking and inhabiting the body. Do you see the beauty of using violent storms to represent it?"

I had forgotten all about the party, or where I was. I watched the moon spill pools of ivory light across the valley below. I spoke before I even realized I'd opened my mouth.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

He smoothed the perfect pleats of his pants, and buttoned his shirt, then touched my arm.

"It's time for me to go, Francesca."

I looked at him and his eyes flashed a silvery green.

"You already know. All you need to do is believe in yourself."

+++

He left, and I stood on the cliffs for a while looking out into the desert, just as I had that morning.

The emptiness spread out before me was a sea. Above it, a million stars, and stillness as far as the eye could see.

I let it fill me with its immensity. The dry winds blew and caressed my entire body like a warm hand, frictionless and smooth.

As if from far away, not even realizing I'd forgotten all about it, the sounds of the party, of Jeannie, and Billy, and high school, came trickling back in—shouts, laughter, and music.

In the distance, I could see the silvery lights. I knew they were out there. I believed in them.

I turned, and headed back into the house, to look for Billy.

+++

I found him pouring drinks and dripping sweat behind the bar, and I walked right up to him, ignoring the wolf whistles of his friends, and took his hand.

"Ohhhh!"

"Someone's in trouble."

He followed behind me as I led him on with both of my hands clutching his. I took him to the driveway in the front.

"What's up, Frannie? What are you doing?"

I turned around, put my arms around his neck, pushed my body into his and kissed him.

At the first touch of his lips, nervous excitement exploded in my stomach, because I knew there was no way this could be bad.

"Will you come with me, right now? Will you leave with me?" I asked him.

"Sure," he said, as his arms slid to my hips. "Where are we going?"

"To the desert. Will you come? Now?"

"Yes. But let me grab some blankets first, ok?"

"All right. But I'm driving."

A few minutes later he came back carrying pillows and blankets and holding two green Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers.

"I figured we could have a toast—you know, to the apocalypse."

I smiled. "Hop in."

"Ohhhhh . . . my god . . ." he moaned when he sunk back into the plush seats. "Oh, this is heaven."

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yeah . . . "

"We need some music," I said, gesturing to my box of tapes.

I saw him pop in Echo and the Bunnymen and "The Killing Moon" came on.

"Good choice."

We looked at each and laughed as I took off on the two lane highway. The Thunderbird flew through the winds, the only thing moving in the landscape as far as the eye could see. Billy turned towards me and watched me, occasionally reaching over to play with my dangly earrings and the faux-punk safety pins on my dress.

"I've liked you for so long, Frannie."

"Really?"

I couldn't believe it.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you do something?"

"Oh come on. Thought you were too smart for me."

"Well I thought you were too cute for me."

We drove in silence for a while, until we reached a point about midway, where the highway dipped low, almost level with the desert valley floor. To my right, I could see the monument of pale gold stone I had seen from my backyard, earlier that day.

This was the right spot. I could feel it.

I slowed down, but before I could stop the car, it died.

Billy flung one hand across my chest. "Whoah, what's happening?"

We continued to roll for a minute before the engine completely stopped. The lights went out, the music cut off, and in moments, it seemed, we had entered a strange new landscape.

Above us, the sky seemed to burst into light, though it was only the moon and stars made brighter without the reflected glare of the headlights. Around us, there was total silence, and the craggy rocks and sweeping dunes were awash in a lavender glow.

I reached for Billy's hand. "It's ok."

"What just happened?"

"It's ok. Trust me."

We sat for a minute, adjusting to the darkness.

"Do you feel that? Please tell me you feel that," I said.

"Yes! What is it? Wait—fuck!"

A loud crack, underneath us, jerked the car, and then the ground started to shake with a low, deep rumble. The shaking continued as an invisible force pressed us down into our seats, like the G-force of an airplane falling out of the sky. It seemed like something was trying to swallow the car with us in it into the ground, pressing and pressing until I could hardly breathe.

"Frannie! Are you ok?"

"Yes! Hang on!"

The rumbling and shaking increased, rattling the Thunderbird and keeping us pinned to our seats. The stars I saw through the vibrating windshield streaked like neon lights as if they were skidding out of place. It grew and grew until it reached a peak of intensity, and then there was another loud crack, and something seemed to cut loose and break off, shooting upwards into the sky. The entire car lifted, just an inch before it slammed down violently into the ground, and then all was still.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Frannie, what was that?" Billy said through heavy breaths.

We were both gasping as if we'd run a marathon.

"I don't—wait, what is that?!"

I heard static, and a high-pitched electronic screech. It took me a moment to realize it was coming from the car radio, which had suddenly come on. I watched, disbelieving, as the little red needle inside lurched from left to right as if someone was trying to find a station.

"Frannie?"

"What?" I couldn't tear my eyes away from the radio, which I knew had not worked for years.

"Frannie . . . look."

"What is it?"

Billy was pointing his finger at me.

"What?"

I looked down. All the little gold safety pins along the side of my dress were vibrating and coming loose. I felt my silver earrings shake and then they were pulled out of my ears, and slid downwards on my chest.

"Billy . . . "

I pointed to his arm. The heavy silver watch on his left hand was sliding off. I watched as it unclasped itself and slipped off his wrist. I heard keys and change rattling in my purse. One of the little gold safety pins broke loose and flew towards the dashboard and the radio.

"What the hell is going on, Frannie?"

"I . . . I'm not sure . . ."

The static on the car radio grew louder, and the dial flew wildly back and forth. Everything made of metal that wasn't tied down crept towards the front of the car, and the sound.

Suddenly, the dial stopped lurching and the static disappeared. From the speakers, cranked up to the max, came a beat, a rhythmic beat of cacophonous sounds, part metallic, part techno, driven by a thumping bass and cymbals like shattering glass.

"What is that?" said Billy.

"Wait, wait . . . "

When I recognized it, the hair up and down my arms stood straight on end.

I knew this song. It was "Angels on the Balcony," an obscure track off Blondie's last studio album, in 1982. I had always loved it. I loved the image it conjured, of a heavenly being, glimpsed by chance in a movie theater, wings tucked in by its sides.

When the robotic noise ended, Deborah Harry's voice filled the night sky, spooky, soft and sweet. I remembered it so well.

Silent light in the theater's sky

Phantom cigarette and a silent cry

The door is open and the lights are cold

The children come in here and they dare the ghost

It could have been one of those coincidences. Perhaps this could all be explained, somehow. Maybe we'd stumbled into some kind of electronic hotspot, and caught an indie station. But I didn't think so. I knew it was the desert's gift, to me.

I turned to Billy, just as I heard something catch and saw the car doors swing wide open with a little "click."

Without saying anything, we both moved at once, as if in slow motion. Billy reached around and grabbed the blankets and pillows from the back, and I grabbed the wine coolers. I watched him, dreamlike and fluid, as he came around and took my hand, and helped me out of the car.

Picking my way through the brush and flowers and stones, I led him towards the rock tower.

To my left and right, silver feathers, shining in the moonlight, marked a clear path. I followed them like a trail of breadcrumbs through a forest, right to the base of the tower. The trail ascended, not too far, and curved around to the opposite side. Beneath us, the desert floor on the hidden side of the tower plummeted into an immense valley so that when we stopped, we seemed to be suspended in the open air.

Billy tossed the blankets onto the recessed ledge and then came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

We didn't need to speak. I felt him, hard as a rock, pushing into the small of my back. I let out a deep sigh and leaned back against him as we looked into the valley.

I felt it, then, the same wonder and awe, but this time it was Billy, and we were alone on a stage made just for us.

Everything that day had led to this moment, as if the universe had aligned just to show us the silvery heaven spreading out from precisely where we stood.

I reached behind me, blindly, to pull him closer as the winds blew my dress up and exposed my hips and thighs. I pushed back against him, grinding slightly, and groaned when he slipped one hand onto my stomach and pulled me tight against him.

"Frannie . . . I'm sorry . . . can't help it," he moaned, as he pumped his hips into the crack of my ass, pushing so I could feel the whole length of him through his jeans.

"It's ok," I gasped. "Don't stop."

My dress blew up and fluttered behind me as I impatiently tugged off my bra, eager to let him touch my bare skin. I reached back, arms over my head, grasping his neck, curling backwards so my full breasts pushed outwards, nipples aching and hard. He made a kind of growl at my throat and I felt his cock swell and lengthen when his hands slid up my rib cage and found them.

"God, oh god!" I gasped in his ear. "Do you feel it?"

"Mmmmm . . ." he moaned, as his warm hands squeezed my breasts, crushing them together while he ran his thumbs over the stiff nipples.

The ledge where we stood hummed with energy, but the real source of it, I could tell, was the tower itself sending radiating waves of pleasure up through my feet and into my body, directly to my nipples and belly. The invisible waves coursed through me, making me reach back for Billy's ass to pull him closer and tighter.

"Jesus, Frannie, I'm so fucking hard! What's happening . . ."

His hands roamed down from my breasts, leaving shuddering trails where they traced my stomach. When he found the curves of my hips, he stayed there.

"Oh God, oh God," was all I could think. My entire body shivered as he fit his big hands into the perfect swell of my hips and bent me, ever so slightly, at the waist. I felt him seeking out the heat between my thighs, lodging there and pushing into me in rhythmic thrusts, over and over.

Billy whispered, "Do you feel that, Frannie? How hard I am for you?"

"Mmm hmm," I mumbled back, hardly able to speak.

I spun around to face him, and we kissed, passionately, his mouth opening mine, slipping his tongue in and swirling and sucking and groaning at the same time. I grasped his head, ran my fingers through his curly black hair. His hands slid down my back and slipped into the band of my panties to cup my ass.

"Frannie . . ." he whispered, in a pleading tone, "Please . . . get down . . . take my cock out, please . . . "

Just hearing his voice, saying the word, triggered off a deep, spreading ache in my belly I had never felt before, not even that night with frat dude. My body was turning into pure liquid, craven need. I got a flash of myself, under him, driving into me, and I had an intense desire to just get down on all fours right that second. Billy grasped my hair with one hand, with the other gently but firmly began to push me lower, though I was already slithering to the ground.

"God, please . . ."

I sat on a pillow at his feet, looking up at his face, framed by stars. He was so beautiful in the blue light.

I took my time stroking the backs of his thighs, making him suck in his breath and rock backwards. I lingered there, running my hands up his ass and lower back, just feeling him. I had wanted to touch him for so long. I breathed in the scent of him, my lips pressing on the front of his bulge, and slowly moved my hands around to snake up his lower belly.

"Careful . . . " he whispered in a strangled voice, when I finally traced my fingertips over the throbbing muscle in front of me.

He helped me, quickly unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down.

When I freed his cock, and it sprung up, straight and hard, I could feel the energy pulsing up through the tower into his body. I could see him trembling with it, and my nipples hardened in response into two aching points. I let out a loud gasp of surprise, and reached forward, instinctively needing to hold him.

When I finally touched him, Billy groaned, and I felt a surge of energy leap from his body into mine, like a bolt of lightning striking me in the stomach. The slightest touch of the silky skin made the ache inside my stomach explode and my belly contract in fluttery warms waves.

Above him, in the sky, a single cloud drifted away from the full moon, which burst into view and shone down directly onto us.

Movement, out of the corner of my eye, made me turn my head to the vertical walls of the tower, and I saw our shadows, crisp and clear—Billy, towering above me, his head thrown back, my kneeling form, holding him, and behind me an immense pair of wings, spreading out and flapping in the open air.

My dress, still attached, fluttered behind me in the wind. But I know what I saw!

How else to explain what happened next?

In that fluid, dreamlike motion, we shifted positions—in unison, as if we could read each other's minds. His hands never left my hips as I swiveled around and got in front of him, on the blankets and pillows. He stroked my thighs, caressed my ass, and nudged open my legs with his knees as I pivoted, and got on my hands and knees. A force pressed me down, onto the tower ledge, where I rested my head on my arms. I could feel the pulsing waves streaming through the surface, pulling me down, down into a splayed position, with my ass high up in the air. I reached back, grabbed hold of my thighs and spread myself wide open for him.

How else to explain how his cock took possession of my mind until it was all I could think about, lying there, waiting for him to plunge into me? I was dripping, gushing wet, open and waiting and ready as I watched us, keeping my gaze fixed on the shadows. A painful ache throbbed in my belly, making me moan and gasp into the pillow. I watched, breathless, as I saw him grasp himself and bear down on me. Through the mighty flapping of shadowy wings, our bodies were so entangled I could no longer tell who they belonged to.

I stared, unsure now of what I was seeing. Billy—his shadow–-seemed to grown and lengthen, towering over me. I thought I saw him reach up, and pull at his face, tug at it, and remove it, like a mask, but my silky dress flew around us, curled around our bodies, and fluttered over him like a veil.

He grasped my hips tightly, holding me in place, and I squirmed and wriggled to adjust. I whispered into the pillow, "Yes, yes . . . " waiting to feel him. He put one big hand on the small of back, to steady himself, and with the other I saw him gently guide his cock to my opening.

"Ohhhhhh God . . . mmmmmmm . . ."

From above, I heard him whisper, "I love you, Frannie."

"Oh, oh, oh!" I gasped, over and over, unable to speak. My hands curled into tight fists, close to my body, as I felt him spear open my labia and slowly push, spreading new, thrilling waves of pleasure outwards from every point of contact.