In a previous post, I published the sixth part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the next installment.
Inside the White House, Hillman and Ashton waited anxiously for another call from Sarard. The phone rang, and Ashton pressed the speaker button.
“Hello?” Ashton said.
“How disappointing to hear your voice again,” Sarard said. “I had hoped that the details of my attack would have been enough to convince you to let me speak to the president.”
“Your plan is ridiculous,” Ashton said. “You think you can contaminate the waters of...”
“The fountain of youth!” Sarard said proudly. “Figuratively speaking of course.” Sarard let out a laugh, as if it was a joke only he understood.
“There is no verifiable evidence to support your claims,” Ashton said. “It’s pure science fiction.”
“And yet you still answered my call,” Sarard said. “Presumably your analysts are hard at work trying to discredit me.” Sarard paused, then continued. “Therein lies your problem. I cannot prove my claims, yet you cannot disprove them.”
“It seems as if we are at a standstill,” Ashton said.
“Indeed,” Sarard said. ”As my time is short, it appears you have forced my hand. I shall return the favor in kind.”
Sarard paused. “I have only one demand. It is nonnegotiable. If you fail to comply with my demand, I will execute my attack. You will then be forced to comply with my demand anyway. However, if I receive word within the next four hours that you are willing to acquiesce, I will withhold my attack. You will then have twelve hours to complete my demand. Are my terms understood?”
“Perfectly,” Ashton said.
“Good,” Sarard said. “As this will likely be the last time we ever speak, I’d like to tell you what a pleasure it has been to work with you.”
Sarard paused once more for effect. “What I am about to say, I mean with all sincerity. I truly hope you will deny me of my request! I deeply desire for you to reject my demand!”
Ashton and Hillman stared at each other in confusion.
Sarard continued. “Nothing would make me happier than for you and your team of analysts to ride me off as a stark raving lunatic. For, you see, if you reject my demand, I will be forced to execute my attack. And just as it would be a tragedy to uproot a flower before it blossoms, so also would it be a tragedy for my plan to not reach full fruition.”
“I promise that I will do everything in my power to see that your request is fulfilled,” Ashton said, then paused.
“What is your demand?”
——————————
Inside the helicopter on the way to Neon Canyon, Dyss and Haas huddled close to Desi to hear the story of Everett Ruess, the modern-day Nemo. The helicopter blades thumped loudly.
“Everett Ruess was..." Desi began.
Haas motioned to his ears, signifying that he couldn't hear Desi. Haas grabbed a set of headphones on the floor and placed them over his ears. Both Desi and Dyss found a set of headphones and placed them on their heads. The sound of the helicopter blades became greatly diminished. As Desi told her story, the sound seemed to completely fade as their attention was riveted on the account.
“Everett Ruess,” Desi continued, “was a blonde-haired, semi-famous artist and writer born in California in 1914. But his creative works are not what made him famous. When Everett was sixteen years old, he embarked alone on a hiking journey throughout California. He saw the majestic granite cliffs of Yosemite; the enormous redwood trees of the Sierra-Nevada forests; all the beauties of the mountain wilderness.”
“Sounds a bit like you, Jeff,“ Haas jokingly said.
Desi continued: “When his travels in California were completed, Everett returned to his home in Los Angeles. He finished high school at eighteen, and soon afterward, had a life-changing dream. In his dream, Everett saw himself exploring the world. He saw himself climbing steep sandstone cliffs and traveling inside narrow desert canyons.”
“The spark of exploration was lit inside Everett,” Desi said. “Call it wanderlust, or the call of the wild; call it what you will. Whatever it is, Everett Ruess had it, and it burned brighter inside of him than almost any other person before or since.”
Desi continued: “Everett Ruess immediately began preparations to travel to the wilderness he dreamed of. That was in 1930. At that time, the truly wild, rugged, undiscovered wilderness of America was in the canyonlands and deserts of Utah. Setting out alone, Everett explored every region of the sprawling desert. He purposely chose difficult trails, trails that the Native Americans and locals warned against. He learned to survive in the harshest of climates. Within a matter of months, he was a hardened adventurer and explorer.”
“During the three recorded years of his travels,” Desi said, “Everett covered thousands of miles of wilderness. He was instantly captivated by the beauty of the slot canyons and the rock formations of the desert. He always brought his paintbrush along, trying to capture the beauty of sunsets and sagebrush. He regaled his anxious family with tales of his adventures in his letters home. He wrote of scaling cliff walls and meeting the local Indians and Mormons, the only people who had learned to survive the rugged wild. He came to despise the stereotypes of civilization and the confines of society.”
Desi took a deep breath.
“Let me guess,” Dyss said. “Everett Ruess spent a lot of time near Escalante?”
“It gets even better, “Desi said, then smiled. Dyss was struck by her beauty.
Desi spoke the next words slowly. “On November 11, 1934, Everett Ruess left the town of Escalante in search of landscapes to paint and adventures to experience. Everett took two burros with him, and enough supplies to last him for six months. He had already traveled from Kayenta to Gallup, from the Grand Canyon to Zion. He had seen all of the beauties Utah had to offer, all except Escalante's wilderness. And Escalante was meant to be the final leg of his journey.”
Desi paused, and spoke even slower. “This ended up being more true than he knew.”
“Before leaving the town of Escalante,” Desi continued, “Everett vaguely mentioned to a few locals that this trip would take him somewhere near Navajo Mountain. He expected to be gone for two or three months. This planned route would take Everett into the most desolate and wild section of North America. This path would also bring him to..."
“Davis Gulch,” Dyss said.
“Exactly,” Desi said. “What happened after Davis Gulch is still to this day fiercely debated. One thing is absolutely certain. Some time soon after departing Escalante, Everett Ruess entered Davis Gulch.”
Desi again spoke slowly for effect. “And then, Everett Ruess inexplicably disappeared.”
“What do you mean, he disappeared,” Haas asked.
“He simply vanished,” Desi said. “The Native American tracker who was later hired to find Everett put it this way: ‘White boy went in, not come out.’ Everett went into Davis Gulch, but never came out.”
“There’s more to the story though, right?” Dyss asked.
Desi nodded. “Before he disappeared, Everett found a cave-like alcove hidden in the cliff walls near the base of the canyon. Everett made camp there, perhaps for an extended period of time. Later on, ashes and soot were found on the roof of the alcove. This is the last known campfire of Everett Ruess.
Desi took another deep breath. “On the wall of the cave, Everett scrawled something into the rock. A message, a clue, or perhaps, a legend.”
“Nemo,” Dyss said.
Desi nodded. “Nemo, 1934.”
“Seventy five years ago,” Dyss said.
“Perhaps to the day,” Desi said.
There was a long silence in the helicopter.
Desi continued: “Because Everett's planned trip was two months long, no one thought much of his absence. But once he did not return, people began to worry. In early March, the exhaustive search for Everett Ruess began.”
“The first and last of several search parties was led by Captain Neal Johnson and his three native Navajo friends,” Desi said. “The Navajos assured Captain Johnson that the boy could not simply disappear. There had to be tracks. In the arid Escalante desert, tracks have been known to last for years. An experienced Navajo trailer could follow two-year old tracks with ease. And sure enough, within a matter of days, the trackers had located Everett's number nine boot tracks leading into Davis Gulch.”
“Soon,” Desi continued, “the search party had found Everett's two half-starved donkeys saddled in a natural corral near the base of Davis Gulch. The donkeys had eaten all the surrounding vegetation down to the dust.”
“But where was their owner?” Dyss asked. “And why would he leave his burrows behind?”
“Stranger still,” Desi said excitedly, “the boot tracks belonging to Everett Ruess stopped! His footprints led down to where the donkeys were corralled, but with no signs of continuation or retreat. The four men searched the area surrounding the corral extremely carefully, but there was no sign of any bootprints anywhere.”
“So that was the end of the search?” Haas asked.
Hardly,” Desi said. “With the discovery of the donkeys, the search rapidly expanded. Hundreds of volunteers came from the surrounding towns and carefully combed the Escalante wilderness in search of any sign of Everett Ruess. All of Southern Utah was scratching their heads. People did not simply disappear in the desert and leave no trace. The Colorado and San Juan Rivers—which formed a circle around Escalante and around Everett’s planned route—were continually watched by the Navajos. They claimed there had been no sign of the boy.”
Desi continued: “This was one of the largest search efforts ever. Fifteen different search parties combed the area for ten days. The hunt was so exhaustive that the searchers found two dead bodies, but dental records confirmed these bones did not belong to Everett.
“During the ten days of searching,” Desi said, “Captain Johnson and his men discovered Everett's final campground, and the inscription in the rock. ‘Nemo, 1934.’”
By this point, both Haas and Dyss were huddled closely to Desi. They leaned back and let out a collective deep breathe.
The pilot looked back at the huddled group. “We’re two minutes away from Neon Canyon,” he said.
“I know where we’re going after this,” Haas said. “We’re going to Davis Gulch to see Everett’s final message.”
“You can’t,” Desi said. “It’s buried.”
Dyss threw his head back and let out an exasperated sigh.
“What?” Haas said. “Buried? How could it possibly be buried?”
“That was 1934,” Dyss said, frustrated. “The dam wasn’t built until 1959. It’s buried underwater.”
Dyss pounded his fist into side of the helicopter, then yelled: “It’s at the bottom of Lake Powell!”
——————————
Hillman and Ashton were anxiously staring at the phone. Sarard was on the line.
“I promise that I will do everything in my power to see that your request is fulfilled,” Ashton said, then paused.
“What is your demand?”
Sarard spoke slowly, deliberately. “I want you to empty Lake Powell!”
“What?” Ashton said, shocked.
“It’s a simple enough request,” Sarard said impatiently. “I want you to empty the Lake Powell reservoir. I want you to open the flood gates of the Glen Canyon Dam and release the waters of Lake Powell. I want the Colorado River to flow at its natural and normal level.”
“Why would you want such a thing?” Ashton said incredulously.
“There are treasures greater than gold buried underneath those waters,” Sarard said.
There was a long silence.
“You have four hours to respond and twelve hours to comply,” Sarard said in a cold, harsh, calculated tone. “The local time here is ten a.m.”
The phone clicked. Ashton slowly pressed the speaker button to end the call.
Ashton looked at Hillman. “Have we been able to confirm if his threat is viable?”
“Not yet,” Hillman replied. “But remember, he’s not trying to blow up the dam. The Lake Mead dam below would stop most of the runoff water.”
“But if the threat is viable?” Ashton asked nervously.
“Then he would be right,” Hillman said. “Nevada, Arizona, Southern California, and all of the Baja Peninsula. They would all be obliterated. The fatality rate would be 99 percent.”
There was a long silence.
“With nothing more than a few sticks of dynamite,” Ashton said gloomily.
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
Chapter 7
Inside the White House, Hillman and Ashton waited anxiously for another call from Sarard. The phone rang, and Ashton pressed the speaker button.
“Hello?” Ashton said.
“How disappointing to hear your voice again,” Sarard said. “I had hoped that the details of my attack would have been enough to convince you to let me speak to the president.”
“Your plan is ridiculous,” Ashton said. “You think you can contaminate the waters of...”
“The fountain of youth!” Sarard said proudly. “Figuratively speaking of course.” Sarard let out a laugh, as if it was a joke only he understood.
“There is no verifiable evidence to support your claims,” Ashton said. “It’s pure science fiction.”
“And yet you still answered my call,” Sarard said. “Presumably your analysts are hard at work trying to discredit me.” Sarard paused, then continued. “Therein lies your problem. I cannot prove my claims, yet you cannot disprove them.”
“It seems as if we are at a standstill,” Ashton said.
“Indeed,” Sarard said. ”As my time is short, it appears you have forced my hand. I shall return the favor in kind.”
Sarard paused. “I have only one demand. It is nonnegotiable. If you fail to comply with my demand, I will execute my attack. You will then be forced to comply with my demand anyway. However, if I receive word within the next four hours that you are willing to acquiesce, I will withhold my attack. You will then have twelve hours to complete my demand. Are my terms understood?”
“Perfectly,” Ashton said.
“Good,” Sarard said. “As this will likely be the last time we ever speak, I’d like to tell you what a pleasure it has been to work with you.”
Sarard paused once more for effect. “What I am about to say, I mean with all sincerity. I truly hope you will deny me of my request! I deeply desire for you to reject my demand!”
Ashton and Hillman stared at each other in confusion.
Sarard continued. “Nothing would make me happier than for you and your team of analysts to ride me off as a stark raving lunatic. For, you see, if you reject my demand, I will be forced to execute my attack. And just as it would be a tragedy to uproot a flower before it blossoms, so also would it be a tragedy for my plan to not reach full fruition.”
“I promise that I will do everything in my power to see that your request is fulfilled,” Ashton said, then paused.
“What is your demand?”
——————————
Inside the helicopter on the way to Neon Canyon, Dyss and Haas huddled close to Desi to hear the story of Everett Ruess, the modern-day Nemo. The helicopter blades thumped loudly.
“Everett Ruess was..." Desi began.
Haas motioned to his ears, signifying that he couldn't hear Desi. Haas grabbed a set of headphones on the floor and placed them over his ears. Both Desi and Dyss found a set of headphones and placed them on their heads. The sound of the helicopter blades became greatly diminished. As Desi told her story, the sound seemed to completely fade as their attention was riveted on the account.
“Everett Ruess,” Desi continued, “was a blonde-haired, semi-famous artist and writer born in California in 1914. But his creative works are not what made him famous. When Everett was sixteen years old, he embarked alone on a hiking journey throughout California. He saw the majestic granite cliffs of Yosemite; the enormous redwood trees of the Sierra-Nevada forests; all the beauties of the mountain wilderness.”
“Sounds a bit like you, Jeff,“ Haas jokingly said.
Desi continued: “When his travels in California were completed, Everett returned to his home in Los Angeles. He finished high school at eighteen, and soon afterward, had a life-changing dream. In his dream, Everett saw himself exploring the world. He saw himself climbing steep sandstone cliffs and traveling inside narrow desert canyons.”
“The spark of exploration was lit inside Everett,” Desi said. “Call it wanderlust, or the call of the wild; call it what you will. Whatever it is, Everett Ruess had it, and it burned brighter inside of him than almost any other person before or since.”
Desi continued: “Everett Ruess immediately began preparations to travel to the wilderness he dreamed of. That was in 1930. At that time, the truly wild, rugged, undiscovered wilderness of America was in the canyonlands and deserts of Utah. Setting out alone, Everett explored every region of the sprawling desert. He purposely chose difficult trails, trails that the Native Americans and locals warned against. He learned to survive in the harshest of climates. Within a matter of months, he was a hardened adventurer and explorer.”
“During the three recorded years of his travels,” Desi said, “Everett covered thousands of miles of wilderness. He was instantly captivated by the beauty of the slot canyons and the rock formations of the desert. He always brought his paintbrush along, trying to capture the beauty of sunsets and sagebrush. He regaled his anxious family with tales of his adventures in his letters home. He wrote of scaling cliff walls and meeting the local Indians and Mormons, the only people who had learned to survive the rugged wild. He came to despise the stereotypes of civilization and the confines of society.”
Desi took a deep breath.
“Let me guess,” Dyss said. “Everett Ruess spent a lot of time near Escalante?”
“It gets even better, “Desi said, then smiled. Dyss was struck by her beauty.
Desi spoke the next words slowly. “On November 11, 1934, Everett Ruess left the town of Escalante in search of landscapes to paint and adventures to experience. Everett took two burros with him, and enough supplies to last him for six months. He had already traveled from Kayenta to Gallup, from the Grand Canyon to Zion. He had seen all of the beauties Utah had to offer, all except Escalante's wilderness. And Escalante was meant to be the final leg of his journey.”
Desi paused, and spoke even slower. “This ended up being more true than he knew.”
“Before leaving the town of Escalante,” Desi continued, “Everett vaguely mentioned to a few locals that this trip would take him somewhere near Navajo Mountain. He expected to be gone for two or three months. This planned route would take Everett into the most desolate and wild section of North America. This path would also bring him to..."
“Davis Gulch,” Dyss said.
“Exactly,” Desi said. “What happened after Davis Gulch is still to this day fiercely debated. One thing is absolutely certain. Some time soon after departing Escalante, Everett Ruess entered Davis Gulch.”
Desi again spoke slowly for effect. “And then, Everett Ruess inexplicably disappeared.”
“What do you mean, he disappeared,” Haas asked.
“He simply vanished,” Desi said. “The Native American tracker who was later hired to find Everett put it this way: ‘White boy went in, not come out.’ Everett went into Davis Gulch, but never came out.”
“There’s more to the story though, right?” Dyss asked.
Desi nodded. “Before he disappeared, Everett found a cave-like alcove hidden in the cliff walls near the base of the canyon. Everett made camp there, perhaps for an extended period of time. Later on, ashes and soot were found on the roof of the alcove. This is the last known campfire of Everett Ruess.
Desi took another deep breath. “On the wall of the cave, Everett scrawled something into the rock. A message, a clue, or perhaps, a legend.”
“Nemo,” Dyss said.
Desi nodded. “Nemo, 1934.”
“Seventy five years ago,” Dyss said.
“Perhaps to the day,” Desi said.
There was a long silence in the helicopter.
Desi continued: “Because Everett's planned trip was two months long, no one thought much of his absence. But once he did not return, people began to worry. In early March, the exhaustive search for Everett Ruess began.”
“The first and last of several search parties was led by Captain Neal Johnson and his three native Navajo friends,” Desi said. “The Navajos assured Captain Johnson that the boy could not simply disappear. There had to be tracks. In the arid Escalante desert, tracks have been known to last for years. An experienced Navajo trailer could follow two-year old tracks with ease. And sure enough, within a matter of days, the trackers had located Everett's number nine boot tracks leading into Davis Gulch.”
“Soon,” Desi continued, “the search party had found Everett's two half-starved donkeys saddled in a natural corral near the base of Davis Gulch. The donkeys had eaten all the surrounding vegetation down to the dust.”
“But where was their owner?” Dyss asked. “And why would he leave his burrows behind?”
“Stranger still,” Desi said excitedly, “the boot tracks belonging to Everett Ruess stopped! His footprints led down to where the donkeys were corralled, but with no signs of continuation or retreat. The four men searched the area surrounding the corral extremely carefully, but there was no sign of any bootprints anywhere.”
“So that was the end of the search?” Haas asked.
Hardly,” Desi said. “With the discovery of the donkeys, the search rapidly expanded. Hundreds of volunteers came from the surrounding towns and carefully combed the Escalante wilderness in search of any sign of Everett Ruess. All of Southern Utah was scratching their heads. People did not simply disappear in the desert and leave no trace. The Colorado and San Juan Rivers—which formed a circle around Escalante and around Everett’s planned route—were continually watched by the Navajos. They claimed there had been no sign of the boy.”
Desi continued: “This was one of the largest search efforts ever. Fifteen different search parties combed the area for ten days. The hunt was so exhaustive that the searchers found two dead bodies, but dental records confirmed these bones did not belong to Everett.
“During the ten days of searching,” Desi said, “Captain Johnson and his men discovered Everett's final campground, and the inscription in the rock. ‘Nemo, 1934.’”
By this point, both Haas and Dyss were huddled closely to Desi. They leaned back and let out a collective deep breathe.
The pilot looked back at the huddled group. “We’re two minutes away from Neon Canyon,” he said.
“I know where we’re going after this,” Haas said. “We’re going to Davis Gulch to see Everett’s final message.”
“You can’t,” Desi said. “It’s buried.”
Dyss threw his head back and let out an exasperated sigh.
“What?” Haas said. “Buried? How could it possibly be buried?”
“That was 1934,” Dyss said, frustrated. “The dam wasn’t built until 1959. It’s buried underwater.”
Dyss pounded his fist into side of the helicopter, then yelled: “It’s at the bottom of Lake Powell!”
——————————
Hillman and Ashton were anxiously staring at the phone. Sarard was on the line.
“I promise that I will do everything in my power to see that your request is fulfilled,” Ashton said, then paused.
“What is your demand?”
Sarard spoke slowly, deliberately. “I want you to empty Lake Powell!”
“What?” Ashton said, shocked.
“It’s a simple enough request,” Sarard said impatiently. “I want you to empty the Lake Powell reservoir. I want you to open the flood gates of the Glen Canyon Dam and release the waters of Lake Powell. I want the Colorado River to flow at its natural and normal level.”
“Why would you want such a thing?” Ashton said incredulously.
“There are treasures greater than gold buried underneath those waters,” Sarard said.
There was a long silence.
“You have four hours to respond and twelve hours to comply,” Sarard said in a cold, harsh, calculated tone. “The local time here is ten a.m.”
The phone clicked. Ashton slowly pressed the speaker button to end the call.
Ashton looked at Hillman. “Have we been able to confirm if his threat is viable?”
“Not yet,” Hillman replied. “But remember, he’s not trying to blow up the dam. The Lake Mead dam below would stop most of the runoff water.”
“But if the threat is viable?” Ashton asked nervously.
“Then he would be right,” Hillman said. “Nevada, Arizona, Southern California, and all of the Baja Peninsula. They would all be obliterated. The fatality rate would be 99 percent.”
There was a long silence.
“With nothing more than a few sticks of dynamite,” Ashton said gloomily.
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
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