In a previous post, I published the ninth part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the next installment.
Dyss’ feet hit the sand of Davis Gulch, and he quickly detached from the rope. He was about forty feet away from the sacrificial altar. He ran after the Navajos, who were already well downcanyon. Dyss passed the altar with only a short glance. The man on the altar is definitely dead. Dyss continued to chase the Navajo men.
Above, the helicopter followed Dyss and the three men.
Ahead, the Navajos’ reached a large drop-off on one side of the canyon floor. There was a large cottonwood tree next to the drop-off, and a rope wrapped around the tree.
The three men reached the rope and one by one began working their way down the rope. When each of the Navajo men had reached the bottom of the drop-off, one of them pulled one end of the rope. The other end of the rope slid around the tree and fell to the ground, leaving Dyss stranded at the top of the drop-off.
The helicopter above banked farther down the canyon, anticipating the Navajos’ path of retreat.
The Navajo men stopped at the drop-off and waited for Dyss. When Dyss reached the drop-off, he stopped and looked down, staring at the three Navajos. He tried without success to hide his disgust at their deformed faces. This was the first time Dyss had seen these men close-up.
Each of the men was bald, a rarity for Native Americans. One of them still had a few long, thin strands of hair. Each man's face was terribly twisted. Black, canker-like sores riddled their faces. Each of the men had numerous skin burns and bruises. The men's lips were severely swollen. One man’s upper lip and nose were blackened and wrinkled like a raisin. A dried-up blood trail fell from one man's ear.
“What happened to you?” Dyss asked, almost involuntarily.
“What do you seek?” one of them asked directly. The man that asked it clearly seemed to be the leader and spokesman for the group, as all subsequent conversation came from him.
“What do you mean?” Dyss asked, confused.
“We know what you seek,” the Navajo said. “The man who just died sought the same thing.”
“You mean the man you killed?” Dyss said.
“His death was a necessary tragedy,” the man said, then paused.
The Navajo man motioned to the wounds on his body. “What you seek has done this to us, has made us this way,” he said. “You must not find it. It is pure power; power that yields to the desires of its wielder. We were foolish enough to believe that we could fight its corrupting influence. We could not. No one can. We have been deformed by its power. You must not find it. This is your final warning. We will protect what you seek, even if it must be by violence. End your search. Now.”
Dyss stared down at the men.
“You have murdered four men,” Dyss said coldly, with a flare of justice in his eyes.
The Navajo man laughed.
“No punishment you can inflict is greater than that which we already suffer,” he retorted.
The two other Navajos turned and began to walk away.
“End your search now,” the other Navajo said, then turned and walked after his compatriots.
Dyss’ eyes searched his surroundings for a way down the drop-off. The nearest way around was several hundred yards away. Dyss turned back and began to return to the sacrificial altar. The helicopter continued to follow the Navajo men.
——————————
When Dyss arrived at the sacrificial altar, he searched the ground near the altar for any clues that might help his investigation. He found none.
The sound of the helicopter’s blades hummed in Dyss’ ears. Dyss looked up to watch as the helicopter slowly moved directly overhead. A rope ladder dropped down towards Dyss.
Dyss grabbed the ladder and began to ascend towards the helicopter.
Dyss climbed the final rungs of the ladder and entered the helicopter door. To his surprise, the three Navajo men were seated inside the helicopter, handcuffed to a rail.
“We got ‘em,” Haas said. “There’s no escaping a chopper.”
Dyss stared at the men for a few moments. They all diverted their eyes away from his gaze and stared at the ground. Dyss turned to Haas and Desi.
“That’s good news,” Dyss said.
“Do you think they know where Sarah Callahan and her group are?” Haas asked.
“It does not matter anymore,” the Navajo spokesman said, somewhat deflated. “Our mission is finished.”
“Let’s take them back to my office and lock them up,” Haas said. “Maybe a few hours in a cell will soften their tongues.”
“We might want to make a quick stop beforehand,” Desi said.
“Why?” Dyss asked.
“We received another radio transmission while the sheriff was arresting these men,” Desi said.
“Another distress signal?” Dyss asked with a mix of surprise and frustration.
“Not exactly,” Desi said. “He wouldn’t give his name, but he said he needed to see you. He requested you by name. He said he could help you in your search for the missing hikers.”
“Did he say he knew where the hikers were, or only that he could help us find them?” Dyss asked.
Desi thought for a moment.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “He said he wanted to meet you at the Wahweap Marina.”
“What’s our fuel situation like?” Haas asked the pilot.
“We have enough to make a side trip to Wahweap,” he replied.
“What do you think, Haas?” Dyss asked.
“We’ve got the bad guys,” Haas said confidently. “No harm in going to see what this guy at Wahweap knows.” Haas motioned to the three Navajo men. “Maybe he can make these three talk.”
——————————
The Wahweap marina is one of many marinas from which boats enter and exit Lake Powell. The Wahweap marina is a little over a mile upstream from the Glen Canyon Dam, which dam forms the bottleneck that creates Lake Powell. Beautiful orange and white sandstone cliffs tower in all directions from Wahweap, but the most notable cliff bands are the cliffs that lie directly east of Wahweap on Antelope Island. The mass of cliffs themselves constitute almost the entirety of Antelope Island, with a small mesa residing on top of the cliff bands.
Desi and Dyss enjoyed the beautiful views of the canyon country on the flight over to Wahweap. In fact, were it not for the somber and demanding events of the day, the scenery they had been able to enjoy from the helicopter would have been nothing short of spectacular.
The SAR helicopter landed at the Wahweap marina. Dyss and Desi exited the helicopter but Haas remained inside with his prisoners. The helicopter engines turned off. Dyss and Desi walked towards the main marina building and entered.
A worker at the building greeted Dyss and Desi.
Desi introduced themselves to the worker. “We received a radio call from a man wanting to meet us here,” Desi said in a questioning tone.
“Yes,” the worker replied, and nodded. “He’s kind of a quirky guy. He didn’t want to stay inside here, said he felt confined.”
The worker pointed out the window to a group of boulders.
"He said he would wait for you outside by that outcropping of rocks to the west there,” the worker said.
Dyss nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
Dyss and Desi left the building.
——————————
Dyss and Desi walked through the boulders to the west of Wahweap, and searched the area, though neither was exactly sure what they were supposed to be searching for.
“Who is this guy that radioed us?” Dyss asked Desi.
“I don’t know,” Desi said, “but he sounded quite intelligent.”
“The whole thing smells a bit off to me,” Dyss said skeptically.
Desi gave him a gentle scowl. “What’s new,” she said teasingly.
Quite suddenly, in a group of bushes next to Desi and Dyss, a man stumbled out and turned towards his visitors, then smiled brightly.
Dyss stared at the tall, blonde-haired man. He did not look any older than twenty-five years old. The man was extremely charismatic. His smile was instantly friendly and disarming. Dyss unknowingly smiled back.
“Got lost in the bushes?” Dyss said.
The man let out a boisterous laugh.
“Lost?” he asked rhetorically. “Jeff, I've never been more lost in my life. But if you give me a map I'll point out our exact location.”
Dyss gave the man a confused stare.
The man spoke again. “There is nothing more glorious in all the world than to lose yourself in this beautiful desert.”
“Sounds like romantic dribble,” Dyss said flatly.
The man’s smile widened. “To some perhaps,” the man replied. “That’s part of the reason why I despise civilization. I would love nothing more than to shed off this society like a snake sheds its skin, but I had to come back.”
“Come back?” Dyss said, his voice becoming more incredulous. “Come back from where?”
The man laughed again. “Jeff, I came back for you,” he said, reaching out and patting Dyss on the back.
“How do you know my name?” Dyss asked, a slight amount of anger in his voice.
The same friendly smile flashed across the man's face.
“Jeff, my name is Everett Ruess.”
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
Chapter 10
Dyss’ feet hit the sand of Davis Gulch, and he quickly detached from the rope. He was about forty feet away from the sacrificial altar. He ran after the Navajos, who were already well downcanyon. Dyss passed the altar with only a short glance. The man on the altar is definitely dead. Dyss continued to chase the Navajo men.
Above, the helicopter followed Dyss and the three men.
Ahead, the Navajos’ reached a large drop-off on one side of the canyon floor. There was a large cottonwood tree next to the drop-off, and a rope wrapped around the tree.
The three men reached the rope and one by one began working their way down the rope. When each of the Navajo men had reached the bottom of the drop-off, one of them pulled one end of the rope. The other end of the rope slid around the tree and fell to the ground, leaving Dyss stranded at the top of the drop-off.
The helicopter above banked farther down the canyon, anticipating the Navajos’ path of retreat.
The Navajo men stopped at the drop-off and waited for Dyss. When Dyss reached the drop-off, he stopped and looked down, staring at the three Navajos. He tried without success to hide his disgust at their deformed faces. This was the first time Dyss had seen these men close-up.
Each of the men was bald, a rarity for Native Americans. One of them still had a few long, thin strands of hair. Each man's face was terribly twisted. Black, canker-like sores riddled their faces. Each of the men had numerous skin burns and bruises. The men's lips were severely swollen. One man’s upper lip and nose were blackened and wrinkled like a raisin. A dried-up blood trail fell from one man's ear.
“What happened to you?” Dyss asked, almost involuntarily.
“What do you seek?” one of them asked directly. The man that asked it clearly seemed to be the leader and spokesman for the group, as all subsequent conversation came from him.
“What do you mean?” Dyss asked, confused.
“We know what you seek,” the Navajo said. “The man who just died sought the same thing.”
“You mean the man you killed?” Dyss said.
“His death was a necessary tragedy,” the man said, then paused.
The Navajo man motioned to the wounds on his body. “What you seek has done this to us, has made us this way,” he said. “You must not find it. It is pure power; power that yields to the desires of its wielder. We were foolish enough to believe that we could fight its corrupting influence. We could not. No one can. We have been deformed by its power. You must not find it. This is your final warning. We will protect what you seek, even if it must be by violence. End your search. Now.”
Dyss stared down at the men.
“You have murdered four men,” Dyss said coldly, with a flare of justice in his eyes.
The Navajo man laughed.
“No punishment you can inflict is greater than that which we already suffer,” he retorted.
The two other Navajos turned and began to walk away.
“End your search now,” the other Navajo said, then turned and walked after his compatriots.
Dyss’ eyes searched his surroundings for a way down the drop-off. The nearest way around was several hundred yards away. Dyss turned back and began to return to the sacrificial altar. The helicopter continued to follow the Navajo men.
——————————
When Dyss arrived at the sacrificial altar, he searched the ground near the altar for any clues that might help his investigation. He found none.
The sound of the helicopter’s blades hummed in Dyss’ ears. Dyss looked up to watch as the helicopter slowly moved directly overhead. A rope ladder dropped down towards Dyss.
Dyss grabbed the ladder and began to ascend towards the helicopter.
Dyss climbed the final rungs of the ladder and entered the helicopter door. To his surprise, the three Navajo men were seated inside the helicopter, handcuffed to a rail.
“We got ‘em,” Haas said. “There’s no escaping a chopper.”
Dyss stared at the men for a few moments. They all diverted their eyes away from his gaze and stared at the ground. Dyss turned to Haas and Desi.
“That’s good news,” Dyss said.
“Do you think they know where Sarah Callahan and her group are?” Haas asked.
“It does not matter anymore,” the Navajo spokesman said, somewhat deflated. “Our mission is finished.”
“Let’s take them back to my office and lock them up,” Haas said. “Maybe a few hours in a cell will soften their tongues.”
“We might want to make a quick stop beforehand,” Desi said.
“Why?” Dyss asked.
“We received another radio transmission while the sheriff was arresting these men,” Desi said.
“Another distress signal?” Dyss asked with a mix of surprise and frustration.
“Not exactly,” Desi said. “He wouldn’t give his name, but he said he needed to see you. He requested you by name. He said he could help you in your search for the missing hikers.”
“Did he say he knew where the hikers were, or only that he could help us find them?” Dyss asked.
Desi thought for a moment.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “He said he wanted to meet you at the Wahweap Marina.”
“What’s our fuel situation like?” Haas asked the pilot.
“We have enough to make a side trip to Wahweap,” he replied.
“What do you think, Haas?” Dyss asked.
“We’ve got the bad guys,” Haas said confidently. “No harm in going to see what this guy at Wahweap knows.” Haas motioned to the three Navajo men. “Maybe he can make these three talk.”
——————————
The Wahweap marina is one of many marinas from which boats enter and exit Lake Powell. The Wahweap marina is a little over a mile upstream from the Glen Canyon Dam, which dam forms the bottleneck that creates Lake Powell. Beautiful orange and white sandstone cliffs tower in all directions from Wahweap, but the most notable cliff bands are the cliffs that lie directly east of Wahweap on Antelope Island. The mass of cliffs themselves constitute almost the entirety of Antelope Island, with a small mesa residing on top of the cliff bands.
Desi and Dyss enjoyed the beautiful views of the canyon country on the flight over to Wahweap. In fact, were it not for the somber and demanding events of the day, the scenery they had been able to enjoy from the helicopter would have been nothing short of spectacular.
The SAR helicopter landed at the Wahweap marina. Dyss and Desi exited the helicopter but Haas remained inside with his prisoners. The helicopter engines turned off. Dyss and Desi walked towards the main marina building and entered.
A worker at the building greeted Dyss and Desi.
Desi introduced themselves to the worker. “We received a radio call from a man wanting to meet us here,” Desi said in a questioning tone.
“Yes,” the worker replied, and nodded. “He’s kind of a quirky guy. He didn’t want to stay inside here, said he felt confined.”
The worker pointed out the window to a group of boulders.
"He said he would wait for you outside by that outcropping of rocks to the west there,” the worker said.
Dyss nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
Dyss and Desi left the building.
——————————
Dyss and Desi walked through the boulders to the west of Wahweap, and searched the area, though neither was exactly sure what they were supposed to be searching for.
“Who is this guy that radioed us?” Dyss asked Desi.
“I don’t know,” Desi said, “but he sounded quite intelligent.”
“The whole thing smells a bit off to me,” Dyss said skeptically.
Desi gave him a gentle scowl. “What’s new,” she said teasingly.
Quite suddenly, in a group of bushes next to Desi and Dyss, a man stumbled out and turned towards his visitors, then smiled brightly.
Dyss stared at the tall, blonde-haired man. He did not look any older than twenty-five years old. The man was extremely charismatic. His smile was instantly friendly and disarming. Dyss unknowingly smiled back.
“Got lost in the bushes?” Dyss said.
The man let out a boisterous laugh.
“Lost?” he asked rhetorically. “Jeff, I've never been more lost in my life. But if you give me a map I'll point out our exact location.”
Dyss gave the man a confused stare.
The man spoke again. “There is nothing more glorious in all the world than to lose yourself in this beautiful desert.”
“Sounds like romantic dribble,” Dyss said flatly.
The man’s smile widened. “To some perhaps,” the man replied. “That’s part of the reason why I despise civilization. I would love nothing more than to shed off this society like a snake sheds its skin, but I had to come back.”
“Come back?” Dyss said, his voice becoming more incredulous. “Come back from where?”
The man laughed again. “Jeff, I came back for you,” he said, reaching out and patting Dyss on the back.
“How do you know my name?” Dyss asked, a slight amount of anger in his voice.
The same friendly smile flashed across the man's face.
“Jeff, my name is Everett Ruess.”
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
A view of the Wahweap Marina in the upper part of the picture, with the Glen Canyon Dam in the lower part of the picture
A view of the Wahweap marina from the ground
Comments
Post a Comment