Westville - Season 2 Premiere

Desert Nights.

Episode 1 - Heart Of The Matter

1

Canyon Diablo, 39 minutes outside Leupp, Arizona
June 13th, 1997

If Daniel Nez could have chosen a day that didn’t crack 100 degrees, he would have. But the desert didn’t offer choices. Just consequences and logistical nightmares.

Still, the GPR cart was picking up something—faint but distinct. Nez squinted at the flickering black-and-white display, the twin humps of buried mass echoing up through the sediment.

“Right there,” he said, stepping forward and tapping the screen. “Couple good-sized rocks.”

Lisa Monroe straightened from where she’d been crouched behind the radar unit, wiping sweat from her brow and raking her ponytail back. “Not a lot of light left.”

He followed her gaze to the horizon, where the sun sagged low behind the twisted junipers, a sprawl of orange bleeding across the sky. Canyon Diablo’s rim lay just past that treeline, its scarred descent like an old wound reopened. The crater itself had long since been picked over, but the surrounding stretches still held promise—untouched ground, unspent luck.

He needed both. The grant was up for renewal in two months. No finds, no funding. No team.

“We’ll start now,” Nez said. “See how far we can get before dark. The heat’ll let up, and fresh rock’s got a way of waking tired men.”

Monroe gave a nod and called back to the shade structure where the rest of the crew lounged beneath the white canopy—metal poles sagging slightly under the weight of the afternoon.

“Careful, Nez.”

Ray Yazzie’s voice came from behind. He walked with a quiet gravity, the kind that made people listen. His skin was darker and more sun-seamed than Nez’s own, though they shared the same Navajo blood. Ray had worked this land for years. Knew its rhythms. Knew its silences.

“There are places,” Ray said, slow and even, “that don’t want to be touched.”

Nez didn’t turn. “And is this one of them?”

“Hard to say.” Ray stepped beside him, his gaze fixed on the low ridge and the faint shimmer of heat coming off the stone. “Just don’t get greedy.”

“No greed here,” Nez said, watching the others stir. “Just trying to keep this going. One more dig. One more story in the dust.”

Ray offered a small nod, though his eyes didn’t move from the ridge.

From beneath the canopy, the team began to rise. Jacob Torres slung a shovel over his shoulder, his sleeves damp with sweat. Dr. Eric Sloane grabbed the metal crate from the back of the ATV—chisels and hammers rattling inside. Monroe returned to the radar cart. The detectors began to whine, thin and metallic, like cicadas screaming from beneath the dirt.

Nez met Jacob’s look and nodded.

The first shovel bit into red earth. Dust rose. The air felt heavier now.

Ray stood at the edge of the dig, arms crossed.

“Let us hope,” he said, “this is not one of those places.”