Nemo, 2009 Chapter 3
In a previous post, I published the second part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the next installment.
Chapter 3
The search and rescue operations in the Escalante wilderness area were run out of the Escalante National Park Visitors Center, on the main street of the town of Escalante.
On the eventful evening of November 21st, Jeffrey Dyss was at the office late.
He walked through the casually set-up offices of SAR and sat down heavily on a couch. A light layer of dust rose from the old couch.
The SAR radio sitting on top of the main desk hissed to life, spitting out static-garbled words. It was a man's voice.
Dyss stood up, then grabbed the talking piece of the radio. Before he could speak, another message came through.
The voice that came through the radio was that of Koch. It was garbled and panicky.
“Mergency in Davis Gulc…” the radio hissed. “Gone... Rock wa... Nemo.”
Dyss' head popped up at the mention of the bizarre name. He raised the talking piece to his mouth.
“This is Jeffery Dyss. Who's speaking?”
Finally,” Koch replied. “I've been trying... Is an emerg... From New York was... Carved Nemo... what it means…"
“Slow down,” diss said. “I can’t understand you. Did you say there is an emergency in Davis Gulch?”
“A group…” Koch said, still panicked. “Gone, just disappe... Emo two thous... Ine... Why would... Write th... Davis Gul…”
There was a loud click, then static.
“Hello?” Dyss spoke into the radio, then paused. “Hello?”
Dyss reached to the radio box and flicked a switch, then spoke into the radio.
“Sheriff Haas, are you there?” Dyss asked.
Haas’ voice came through on the radio. “Yeah, I’m here,” he said.
“Did you catch any of that?” Dyss said.
“Yeah,” Haas replied. “It sounded pretty urgent. Something about a missing person in Davis Gulch. Maybe a group from New York?”
“Did you catch that name?” Dyss said. “It sounded like the guy said Nemo. He said it three times.”
“Sounds like you’ll be rescuing an estranged fish looking for its father,” Haas joked.
Dyss laughed then looked at his watch. The time was 6:49 PM
“We could get to Davis Gulch within an hour,” Dyss said. “I'm gonna go check it out. You wanna come?”
“Sure,” Haas said. “I’ll call the field office and tell them to get the chopper ready.”
———
Inside the SAR helicopter, Jeffery Dyss, Sheriff Haas, and the pilot flew over Davis Gulch. Haas and the pilot were seated in the front of the chopper, with Dyss and his bag of tricks in the back. Both Dyss and Haas were wearing their rescue harnesses.
Haas looked back to Dyss.
“We’ve got an incoming transmission,” Haas said. “Sounds like another emergency.”
Haas motioned for Dyss to put on his headset. Dyss reached down at his feet, picked up the headset, and slipped the ear-muff radio over his ears.
Jonathan Lynd’s voice came calmly over the radio.
“Might be a park ranger.”
Dyss had obviously entered halfway through a conversation.
“This is Jeffery Dyss with the Escalante Field Office. Are you lost? Are you calling for help?”
“No,” Lynd said. “I have found a dead body in Coyote Gulch.”
Haas looked back at Dyss in surprise.
“The man drowned in the stream,” Lynd said. “I believe he was a park ranger.”
“What makes you think he was a park ranger?” Dyss asked.
“Earlier this evening he was testing the water in the stream,” Lynd replied.
Dyss and Haas both look at each other, perplexed.
“What is the urgency of your situation?” Dyss asked.
“Minor,” Lynd replied. “The man is already dead. There isn’t much to be done about that.”
“We’ve received another call for assistance about ten miles from where you are,” Dyss said. “We’ll need to attend to it first. Someone should be there within a half an hour. Where exactly in Coyote Gulch are you located?”
“About a quarter of a mile west of Cliff Arch,” Lynd said.
“We’ll be there soon. Thank you.”
Dyss removed the headset then turned to Haas. “It’s next to impossible to drown in Coyote Gulch,” Dyss said.
“I know,” Haas said. “And every ranger we have is in town. And no one is conducting any tests on the water. Something stinks.”
Dyss nodded.
The chopper began to slow to a hover. The pilot pointed downward. Dyss grabbed a strap attached to the ceiling of the helicopter and leaned out.
From the ground, Koch looked up at the chopper and waved.
In the chopper, Haas pointed forward. “The end of the canyon is pretty close,” he said. “I can see the lake ahead.”
Dyss looked forward. Through the windshield, he could see the moonlight from the quarter-full moon reflect off the waters of Lake Powell.
“There’s no room to land,” the pilot said. “You're gonna haf' ta' rap in.”
Dyss nodded then moved to the open door. Expertly, he grabbed a rope attached to the roof of the helicopter and threw it out the window. The rope fell to the ground, twenty feet away from Koch.
The rope coiled in the sand like an asp.
Dyss quickly clipped into the rope and stepped away from the chopper, placing his weight onto the rope. He looked at Haas
“You coming?” Dyss asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Haas replied nervously.
Dyss nodded, pulled on the rope, then jumped off the helicopter.
———
Dyss’ feet sank into the soft sand of Davis Gulch. He quickly detached from the rope and pulled a radio out of his bag.
“Come on down, Sheriff,” Dyss said into the radio.
Koch rushed forward and grabbed Dyss’ arm.
“We have to hurry,” Koch yelled. “They fell into the lake.”
Haas rappelled down and arrived at ground level. Dyss looked up at the chopper and waved. The chopper lifted, carrying the rope with it, then banked and flew away, towards the lake.
Dyss turned to Koch.
“We must hurry,” Koch said. “There was a group of three people. They went down-canyon, but haven't returned. I hiked all the way to the lake, but couldn't find them.” Koch caught his breath for a moment and continued. “There were no signs of their footprints coming back.”
Dyss and Haas give each other a worried look.
“And there's a piece of paper in the lake,” Koch continued. “They must have fallen into the lake. Right now they must be swimming down-canyon or stranded on a sand bank somewhere.”
Koch motioned down canyon and began to walk. “C'mon, we can talk while we're hiking.”
Dyss and Haas quickly begin to follow Koch down-canyon.
The group reached the end of the Davis Gulch hiking trail ten minutes later. Dyss and Haas stepped into the large grotto where Davis Gulch meets Lake Powell. Koch followed them, moving immediately to the carving in the wall.
“Nemo, 2009,” Koch said. “You can tell it has been carved recently. Why would they scratch that into the wall?”
Dyss shined his flashlight at the wall, revealing the enigmatic text.
“And look,” Koch said, pointing towards the pool. Koch rushed to the ledge and pointed below. Dyss and Haas followed.
Dyss pointed his flashlight down. The cone of light bounced off the water and reflected onto the canyon walls above. Dyss moved the flashlight until he found the item that Koch was pointing at.
The water outside the cone of light was black while the water inside the cone was a murky brown. In the center of the light was a laminated piece of paper.
Dyss turned to Haas and frowned.
“Don’t look at me,” Haas said. “This is your field.”
Dyss removed a thin rope from his bag. He walked up-canyon to a large boulder then quickly tied the rope around the boulder. Once attached, Dyss threw the other end of the rope to Haas, who caught it and immediately threw it into the pool below. The splashing sound of the rope echoed through the enclosed walls.
Dyss stepped to the canyon edge and grabbed the rope.
Haas’ radio crackled. Haas stepped up-canyon to answer the call.
Dyss descended the rope. As his legs entered the cold water, his hiking pants clung to his skin. He took a deep breath, bracing for the cold. He lowered himself deeper. His feet vainly fumbled through the water in search of the canyon floor.
Dyss quickly swam to the floating piece of paper. He picked it up, tucked it into his pants, and swam back. He then began ascending the rope hand-over-hand, with his legs pushing against the canyon wall for support.
Haas returned from his radio call.
Once Dyss reached the lip of the fall, he stood and handed the paper to Haas.
“The pilot called,” Haas said. “He said there’s no sign of any activity down-canyon.”
“That’s impossible,” Koch said. “They must be somewhere in the lake. They never returned up-canyon. Their footprints lead down here, but there are no footprints that lead back the other way. I made sure of that when I first came down here.” Koch paused. “Where else could they be?”
A pause.
“What’s on the paper?” Dyss asked. The group huddled around the paper.
“It’s a map,” Haas said. “It looks like a highly-detailed map of the Lake Powell area. This must be the group’s hiking map.”
There were numerous x’s drawn on the map.
“Look at all these x’s,” Dyss said, then counted the x’s. “There are sixteen all together.”
“So,” Haas said, “this group hikes down to the bottom of the canyon, carves some strange name into the wall, drops their map into the lake, then disappears?”
“Look on the other side,” Koch said, pointing to the map. “There’s something written on the back.”
Haas flipped the paper over.
“Looks like some petroglyphs,” Haas said. “And some writing in some kind of Native American language.”
Dyss scanned the page. In the poorly reflected glow of the flashlight, he saw about fifteen petroglyph symbols on the upper half of the page. They appeared to photocopies from a book. The bottom half was filled with a language incoherent to Dyss.
Dyss looked down at his wet clothes. As he looked away, his eyes caught sight of a strange but somehow familiar symbol on the map. It was an ancient petroglyph of a swirling spiral, almost like an M.C. Escher drawing.
Dyss stepped closer and focused his eyes. He pointed to the petroglyph.
“I’ve seen this symbol before,” Dyss said. “It’s a petroglyph located somewhere in the national park here.” He paused. “I think I’ve actually seen the rock where this petroglyph is carved.”
“Well where is it?” Haas asked.
Dyss waved his hand in the air. “Give me a second to remember.” Dyss’ eyes darted back and forth, then lit up with remembrance. “It’s in Coyote Gulch. It’s only ten miles from here. It’s a stone’s throw away from Cliff Arch.”
“Are you serious?” Haas said in disbelief. “You’re telling me that this symbol is within a few hundred yards of the dead ranger we just got a call about?”
Dyss nodded his head quickly. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“This night keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Haas said.
“I think it’s about time we head over to Coyote Gulch,” Dyss said. He turned to Koch. “Thank you for your help. We will continue the search from here. Let us know if you find anything else.”
Haas was already beginning to hail the helicopter. Dyss began to clean the rope.
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
Chapter 3
The search and rescue operations in the Escalante wilderness area were run out of the Escalante National Park Visitors Center, on the main street of the town of Escalante.
On the eventful evening of November 21st, Jeffrey Dyss was at the office late.
He walked through the casually set-up offices of SAR and sat down heavily on a couch. A light layer of dust rose from the old couch.
The SAR radio sitting on top of the main desk hissed to life, spitting out static-garbled words. It was a man's voice.
Dyss stood up, then grabbed the talking piece of the radio. Before he could speak, another message came through.
The voice that came through the radio was that of Koch. It was garbled and panicky.
“Mergency in Davis Gulc…” the radio hissed. “Gone... Rock wa... Nemo.”
Dyss' head popped up at the mention of the bizarre name. He raised the talking piece to his mouth.
“This is Jeffery Dyss. Who's speaking?”
Finally,” Koch replied. “I've been trying... Is an emerg... From New York was... Carved Nemo... what it means…"
“Slow down,” diss said. “I can’t understand you. Did you say there is an emergency in Davis Gulch?”
“A group…” Koch said, still panicked. “Gone, just disappe... Emo two thous... Ine... Why would... Write th... Davis Gul…”
There was a loud click, then static.
“Hello?” Dyss spoke into the radio, then paused. “Hello?”
Dyss reached to the radio box and flicked a switch, then spoke into the radio.
“Sheriff Haas, are you there?” Dyss asked.
Haas’ voice came through on the radio. “Yeah, I’m here,” he said.
“Did you catch any of that?” Dyss said.
“Yeah,” Haas replied. “It sounded pretty urgent. Something about a missing person in Davis Gulch. Maybe a group from New York?”
“Did you catch that name?” Dyss said. “It sounded like the guy said Nemo. He said it three times.”
“Sounds like you’ll be rescuing an estranged fish looking for its father,” Haas joked.
Dyss laughed then looked at his watch. The time was 6:49 PM
“We could get to Davis Gulch within an hour,” Dyss said. “I'm gonna go check it out. You wanna come?”
“Sure,” Haas said. “I’ll call the field office and tell them to get the chopper ready.”
———
Inside the SAR helicopter, Jeffery Dyss, Sheriff Haas, and the pilot flew over Davis Gulch. Haas and the pilot were seated in the front of the chopper, with Dyss and his bag of tricks in the back. Both Dyss and Haas were wearing their rescue harnesses.
Haas looked back to Dyss.
“We’ve got an incoming transmission,” Haas said. “Sounds like another emergency.”
Haas motioned for Dyss to put on his headset. Dyss reached down at his feet, picked up the headset, and slipped the ear-muff radio over his ears.
Jonathan Lynd’s voice came calmly over the radio.
“Might be a park ranger.”
Dyss had obviously entered halfway through a conversation.
“This is Jeffery Dyss with the Escalante Field Office. Are you lost? Are you calling for help?”
“No,” Lynd said. “I have found a dead body in Coyote Gulch.”
Haas looked back at Dyss in surprise.
“The man drowned in the stream,” Lynd said. “I believe he was a park ranger.”
“What makes you think he was a park ranger?” Dyss asked.
“Earlier this evening he was testing the water in the stream,” Lynd replied.
Dyss and Haas both look at each other, perplexed.
“What is the urgency of your situation?” Dyss asked.
“Minor,” Lynd replied. “The man is already dead. There isn’t much to be done about that.”
“We’ve received another call for assistance about ten miles from where you are,” Dyss said. “We’ll need to attend to it first. Someone should be there within a half an hour. Where exactly in Coyote Gulch are you located?”
“About a quarter of a mile west of Cliff Arch,” Lynd said.
“We’ll be there soon. Thank you.”
Dyss removed the headset then turned to Haas. “It’s next to impossible to drown in Coyote Gulch,” Dyss said.
“I know,” Haas said. “And every ranger we have is in town. And no one is conducting any tests on the water. Something stinks.”
Dyss nodded.
The chopper began to slow to a hover. The pilot pointed downward. Dyss grabbed a strap attached to the ceiling of the helicopter and leaned out.
From the ground, Koch looked up at the chopper and waved.
In the chopper, Haas pointed forward. “The end of the canyon is pretty close,” he said. “I can see the lake ahead.”
Dyss looked forward. Through the windshield, he could see the moonlight from the quarter-full moon reflect off the waters of Lake Powell.
“There’s no room to land,” the pilot said. “You're gonna haf' ta' rap in.”
Dyss nodded then moved to the open door. Expertly, he grabbed a rope attached to the roof of the helicopter and threw it out the window. The rope fell to the ground, twenty feet away from Koch.
The rope coiled in the sand like an asp.
Dyss quickly clipped into the rope and stepped away from the chopper, placing his weight onto the rope. He looked at Haas
“You coming?” Dyss asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Haas replied nervously.
Dyss nodded, pulled on the rope, then jumped off the helicopter.
———
Dyss’ feet sank into the soft sand of Davis Gulch. He quickly detached from the rope and pulled a radio out of his bag.
“Come on down, Sheriff,” Dyss said into the radio.
Koch rushed forward and grabbed Dyss’ arm.
“We have to hurry,” Koch yelled. “They fell into the lake.”
Haas rappelled down and arrived at ground level. Dyss looked up at the chopper and waved. The chopper lifted, carrying the rope with it, then banked and flew away, towards the lake.
Dyss turned to Koch.
“We must hurry,” Koch said. “There was a group of three people. They went down-canyon, but haven't returned. I hiked all the way to the lake, but couldn't find them.” Koch caught his breath for a moment and continued. “There were no signs of their footprints coming back.”
Dyss and Haas give each other a worried look.
“And there's a piece of paper in the lake,” Koch continued. “They must have fallen into the lake. Right now they must be swimming down-canyon or stranded on a sand bank somewhere.”
Koch motioned down canyon and began to walk. “C'mon, we can talk while we're hiking.”
Dyss and Haas quickly begin to follow Koch down-canyon.
The group reached the end of the Davis Gulch hiking trail ten minutes later. Dyss and Haas stepped into the large grotto where Davis Gulch meets Lake Powell. Koch followed them, moving immediately to the carving in the wall.
“Nemo, 2009,” Koch said. “You can tell it has been carved recently. Why would they scratch that into the wall?”
Dyss shined his flashlight at the wall, revealing the enigmatic text.
“And look,” Koch said, pointing towards the pool. Koch rushed to the ledge and pointed below. Dyss and Haas followed.
Dyss pointed his flashlight down. The cone of light bounced off the water and reflected onto the canyon walls above. Dyss moved the flashlight until he found the item that Koch was pointing at.
The water outside the cone of light was black while the water inside the cone was a murky brown. In the center of the light was a laminated piece of paper.
Dyss turned to Haas and frowned.
“Don’t look at me,” Haas said. “This is your field.”
Dyss removed a thin rope from his bag. He walked up-canyon to a large boulder then quickly tied the rope around the boulder. Once attached, Dyss threw the other end of the rope to Haas, who caught it and immediately threw it into the pool below. The splashing sound of the rope echoed through the enclosed walls.
Dyss stepped to the canyon edge and grabbed the rope.
Haas’ radio crackled. Haas stepped up-canyon to answer the call.
Dyss descended the rope. As his legs entered the cold water, his hiking pants clung to his skin. He took a deep breath, bracing for the cold. He lowered himself deeper. His feet vainly fumbled through the water in search of the canyon floor.
Dyss quickly swam to the floating piece of paper. He picked it up, tucked it into his pants, and swam back. He then began ascending the rope hand-over-hand, with his legs pushing against the canyon wall for support.
Haas returned from his radio call.
Once Dyss reached the lip of the fall, he stood and handed the paper to Haas.
“The pilot called,” Haas said. “He said there’s no sign of any activity down-canyon.”
“That’s impossible,” Koch said. “They must be somewhere in the lake. They never returned up-canyon. Their footprints lead down here, but there are no footprints that lead back the other way. I made sure of that when I first came down here.” Koch paused. “Where else could they be?”
A pause.
“What’s on the paper?” Dyss asked. The group huddled around the paper.
“It’s a map,” Haas said. “It looks like a highly-detailed map of the Lake Powell area. This must be the group’s hiking map.”
There were numerous x’s drawn on the map.
“Look at all these x’s,” Dyss said, then counted the x’s. “There are sixteen all together.”
“So,” Haas said, “this group hikes down to the bottom of the canyon, carves some strange name into the wall, drops their map into the lake, then disappears?”
“Look on the other side,” Koch said, pointing to the map. “There’s something written on the back.”
Haas flipped the paper over.
“Looks like some petroglyphs,” Haas said. “And some writing in some kind of Native American language.”
Dyss scanned the page. In the poorly reflected glow of the flashlight, he saw about fifteen petroglyph symbols on the upper half of the page. They appeared to photocopies from a book. The bottom half was filled with a language incoherent to Dyss.
Dyss looked down at his wet clothes. As he looked away, his eyes caught sight of a strange but somehow familiar symbol on the map. It was an ancient petroglyph of a swirling spiral, almost like an M.C. Escher drawing.
Dyss stepped closer and focused his eyes. He pointed to the petroglyph.
“I’ve seen this symbol before,” Dyss said. “It’s a petroglyph located somewhere in the national park here.” He paused. “I think I’ve actually seen the rock where this petroglyph is carved.”
“Well where is it?” Haas asked.
Dyss waved his hand in the air. “Give me a second to remember.” Dyss’ eyes darted back and forth, then lit up with remembrance. “It’s in Coyote Gulch. It’s only ten miles from here. It’s a stone’s throw away from Cliff Arch.”
“Are you serious?” Haas said in disbelief. “You’re telling me that this symbol is within a few hundred yards of the dead ranger we just got a call about?”
Dyss nodded his head quickly. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“This night keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Haas said.
“I think it’s about time we head over to Coyote Gulch,” Dyss said. He turned to Koch. “Thank you for your help. We will continue the search from here. Let us know if you find anything else.”
Haas was already beginning to hail the helicopter. Dyss began to clean the rope.
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
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