In a previous post, I published the tenth part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the next installment.
Outside the Wahweap Marina, Haas waited for Desi and Dyss next to the helicopter. The pilot was seated inside, and the three Navajos’ were still handcuffed in the back.
The radio crackled to life.
“Haas, are you there?” Dyss’ voice came over the radio
Haas picker up the receiver. “I’m here,” he said.
“This guy we met, he says he knows where the three missing hikers are,” Dyss said.
“Where are they?” Haas asked.
“He says he can’t tell us, he can only show us,” Dyss said. “He says he’s willing to take us there, but only on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Haas said.
“He’s only willing to take me and Desi,” Dyss said over the radio.
There was a pause.
“That’s a strange request,” Haas replied. “But maybe it’s for the best. I should probably get these Navajos’ back to the station for questioning.” Haas paused. “Did this mystery man say if these deaths have any connection to the missing hikers?”
“No, he didn’t say,” Dyss said.
“Who is this guy anyway?” Haas asked.
There was a long pause.
His name is Everett Ruess,” Dyss said. “We have to go. I’ll call you later.”
Haas’ eyes widened. “Dyss? Dyss, are you there?”
There was no response.
Disappointed, Haas put the radio down then jumped into the helicopter. The pilot looked back at him.
“Let’s head back to Escalante as quick as we can,” Haas said.
The pilot nodded then started the engine. The rotors started to turn.
——————————
Inside the Escalante Sheriff’s office, Pastor Pollent sat at the desk next to the radio. He was patiently waiting for the return of Sheriff Haas.
Pollent’s cell phone sat on the desk. The phone began to ring. Slowly, Pollent accepted the call but did not speak. The voice on the other end was that of Kimberly Ashton, the President’s aide.
“The President has heard your request and has agreed to comply,” Ashton said. “The Glen Canyon dam will be emptied by the end of the day.”
Pastor Pollent hung up the phone and placed it on the desk. He smiled and stood up, then picked up the radio.
——————————
There is nothing particularly unique about the Glen Canyon Dam. In fact, as dams go, it is quite small. The nature of the Colorado River upstream from the dam makes the need for a large dam unnecessary.
The walkway of the Glen Canyon Dam is equally unimpressive; it is slightly curved; a simple and straightforward walkway that rarely sees tourist activity.
Dyss, Desi, and Everett Ruess were on the north side of the walkway. Everett motioned to them, and they began to walk across the walkway.
The group reached the middle of the walkway and stopped. Everett pointed to the river far below on the drainage side of the dam.
“When I first visited this amazing wilderness,” Everett said, “this section of the river was notorious as being the harshest and most inhospitable area for thousands of miles. Yet I was still able to navigate this land.”
Everett turned to Dyss. “Do you want to know how, Jeff?”
“I’m more interested in knowing where the missing hikers from New York are,” Dyss said flatly.
“That is the exact point I am trying to make,” Everett said. “The waters of the fountain of youth give you more than a prolonged, seemingly eternal youth. They give you the ability to have a greater control over water. I could navigate this river because I was able to tap into the flow of it.”
Everett stared coldly at Dyss. “There is a man who is trying to tap into this power for destructive purposes,” he said.
“Enough of legends and myths,” Dyss said. “Where are the missing hikers?”
Everett nodded slowly. “I can see your patience is like this dam,” he said. “The water continues to rush into this wall, but from here it has nowhere to go.”
Everett pointed to other side of the dam, down towards the lake. He pointed to a small hill that had become a makeshift island surrounded by the lake’s waters.
“The three persons you seek will pass by that island in approximately three hours,” Everett said. “That is all I can tell you.”
Desi reached out and gently tugged at Dyss’ arm.
“Everett, is it alright if Jeff and I speak privately for a moment?” Desi asked politely.
Everett flashed them both a smile.
“Of course,” he said.
Desi and Dyss turned and walked a few paces away from Everett.
Desi looked longingly into Dyss’ eyes, as if hoping to see something in him that she knew was not there. She was searching for belief.
“Jeff,” Desi said quietly, “I know this is hard for you to believe, but this moment that is unfolding before you; it is happening to you for a reason. Why would Everett ask us to come here, but for Haas to stay behind? You must have a little faith.”
“This is not faith,” Dyss declared resolutely. “This is superstition.”
Desi frowned in disappointment, then tried again. “Jeff, there is a man out there somewhere who is trying to corrupt and control the fountain of youth. We must find out who that man is. And Everett knows.”
“No,” Dyss said. “We need to find the missing hikers from New York.”
“And Everett has told us how we can do that,” Desi retorted. “As soon as we have a chance, we will radio Sheriff Haas. He will have a rescue crew here in plenty of time. But until then, let’s at least find out what Everett’s warnings are all about.”
“What could he possibly warn us about?” Dyss asked.
“Jeff, let me ask you a question,” Desi said. “What is the most valuable substance in the world?”
Dyss remained silent. Desi continued.
“You might initially think oil or gold or diamonds,” she said. “But of all the minerals and solvents found on the earth, water is by far and away the most valuable. Life simply could not exist without access to adequate supplies of clean water.”
“Yes,” Dyss said impatiently, “we’ve established that everything that has happened in the past two days has to do with water.”
“But not just water,” Desi protested. “Clean water.”
Desi handed Dyss the laminated map from Davis Gulch, the map he had found the night before while searching for Sarah Callahan in Davis Gulch.
“Don't you see?” she asked. “The symbols on the map. The Navajo words. It all points to clean water.”
Jeffery looked back to the paper. His eyes widened in astonishment. He suddenly saw the ancient Anasazi symbols and the cryptic Navajo words in a new light. An idea began to form inside his head.
Slowly, Jeffery turned the page over to the side with the map. He stared at the sixteen small x’s scattered across the topography. The sixteen marks suddenly began to take on new meaning. His eyes passed over each mark carefully.
Dyss fell down to his knees. He was only able to mutter two simple words.
“Clean water!”
——————————
Laura Reddish paced inside the Sheriff’s office.
This is exactly why Laura Reddish had traveled all the way to this remote town of Escalante; for the story of Jeffery Dyss; the story of the most lethal terrorist attack ever conceived; the story of the legend of Everett Ruess. She listened with riveted attention as Sheriff Haas finished recounting the events of the days of November 21st and 22nd, 2009. When Haas feel silent, she stared at him intently, waiting for more. But Haas simply stared back.
“Clean water?” Reddish asked. “That’s what triggered Jeffery’s mind? That’s what caused him to piece together the mystery? Clean water?”
Haas nodded a few times.
“Have you been able to piece this puzzle together, Miss Reddish?”
Reddish rolled her eyes for a moment.
“I’ve been able to piece together what did not happen,” she said with a bit of anger in her voice.
“Just like the men who searched for Everett Ruess in 1934,” Haas said. “They were able to eliminate several scenarios. But no one has been able to discover the scenario that makes all the pieces fit.”
“But information aides revelation,” Reddish prodded.
“Indeed,” Haas said. “And as you so aptly put it, no one is willing to divulge any new information.”
Haas leaned back in his chair. “Yes,” Haas said, “this is where the story ends; for Homeland Security, for the White House, for the newspapers. And with good reason. Who would dare to publish such a ludicrous story? Three hikers from New York discovering the fountain of youth. A man who deliberately disappeared seventy five years ago miraculously returning, his physical appearance showing not a day’s worth of aging. And a terrorist threatening to destroy the entire American Southwest by corrupting the sacred waters of the Lake of the Wounded.”
“But where is the truth?” Reddish asked boldly.
“Many believe it is better if the American people remain in ignorance;” Haas said, “that their superstitious hopes should be rewarded with lies; that it is safer for the truth to dwell in darkness. Terrorist plots are best kept unknown, for our own protection and benefit.”
Reddish stepped forward and looked intently at Sheriff Haas. “I do not believe that you believe that.”
“Miss Reddish, I assure you, everything I have told you thus far actually happened. It is the absolute truth.”
“How is that possible?” Reddish said, astonished.
Haas paused.
“When I returned to my office after Dyss and Desi had left with Everett Ruess, I received a call from Miss Kimberly Ashton, the President’s aide. She warned me that there was a man who was attempting to empty the waters of Lake Powell.”
“Pastor Pollent was that man,” Reddish said, as if asking for confirmation.
Haas nodded. “Ashton told me everything she knew about the man, and everything she knew about the whole situation.”
“And it was obvious to you then how all of this fits together?” Reddish asked.
Haas nodded, then looked out the window.
“This is what comes from jumping to false conclusions,” Haas said.
Haas turned back to Reddish, then spoke slowly. “Let me take you back to the first day, November 21st, when all of this started. Jeff and Desi were right, though only Jeff understood exactly what he was right about. This terrorist attack had everything to do with clean water.”
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Chapter 11
Outside the Wahweap Marina, Haas waited for Desi and Dyss next to the helicopter. The pilot was seated inside, and the three Navajos’ were still handcuffed in the back.
The radio crackled to life.
“Haas, are you there?” Dyss’ voice came over the radio
Haas picker up the receiver. “I’m here,” he said.
“This guy we met, he says he knows where the three missing hikers are,” Dyss said.
“Where are they?” Haas asked.
“He says he can’t tell us, he can only show us,” Dyss said. “He says he’s willing to take us there, but only on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Haas said.
“He’s only willing to take me and Desi,” Dyss said over the radio.
There was a pause.
“That’s a strange request,” Haas replied. “But maybe it’s for the best. I should probably get these Navajos’ back to the station for questioning.” Haas paused. “Did this mystery man say if these deaths have any connection to the missing hikers?”
“No, he didn’t say,” Dyss said.
“Who is this guy anyway?” Haas asked.
There was a long pause.
His name is Everett Ruess,” Dyss said. “We have to go. I’ll call you later.”
Haas’ eyes widened. “Dyss? Dyss, are you there?”
There was no response.
Disappointed, Haas put the radio down then jumped into the helicopter. The pilot looked back at him.
“Let’s head back to Escalante as quick as we can,” Haas said.
The pilot nodded then started the engine. The rotors started to turn.
——————————
Inside the Escalante Sheriff’s office, Pastor Pollent sat at the desk next to the radio. He was patiently waiting for the return of Sheriff Haas.
Pollent’s cell phone sat on the desk. The phone began to ring. Slowly, Pollent accepted the call but did not speak. The voice on the other end was that of Kimberly Ashton, the President’s aide.
“The President has heard your request and has agreed to comply,” Ashton said. “The Glen Canyon dam will be emptied by the end of the day.”
Pastor Pollent hung up the phone and placed it on the desk. He smiled and stood up, then picked up the radio.
——————————
There is nothing particularly unique about the Glen Canyon Dam. In fact, as dams go, it is quite small. The nature of the Colorado River upstream from the dam makes the need for a large dam unnecessary.
The walkway of the Glen Canyon Dam is equally unimpressive; it is slightly curved; a simple and straightforward walkway that rarely sees tourist activity.
Dyss, Desi, and Everett Ruess were on the north side of the walkway. Everett motioned to them, and they began to walk across the walkway.
The group reached the middle of the walkway and stopped. Everett pointed to the river far below on the drainage side of the dam.
“When I first visited this amazing wilderness,” Everett said, “this section of the river was notorious as being the harshest and most inhospitable area for thousands of miles. Yet I was still able to navigate this land.”
Everett turned to Dyss. “Do you want to know how, Jeff?”
“I’m more interested in knowing where the missing hikers from New York are,” Dyss said flatly.
“That is the exact point I am trying to make,” Everett said. “The waters of the fountain of youth give you more than a prolonged, seemingly eternal youth. They give you the ability to have a greater control over water. I could navigate this river because I was able to tap into the flow of it.”
Everett stared coldly at Dyss. “There is a man who is trying to tap into this power for destructive purposes,” he said.
“Enough of legends and myths,” Dyss said. “Where are the missing hikers?”
Everett nodded slowly. “I can see your patience is like this dam,” he said. “The water continues to rush into this wall, but from here it has nowhere to go.”
Everett pointed to other side of the dam, down towards the lake. He pointed to a small hill that had become a makeshift island surrounded by the lake’s waters.
“The three persons you seek will pass by that island in approximately three hours,” Everett said. “That is all I can tell you.”
Desi reached out and gently tugged at Dyss’ arm.
“Everett, is it alright if Jeff and I speak privately for a moment?” Desi asked politely.
Everett flashed them both a smile.
“Of course,” he said.
Desi and Dyss turned and walked a few paces away from Everett.
Desi looked longingly into Dyss’ eyes, as if hoping to see something in him that she knew was not there. She was searching for belief.
“Jeff,” Desi said quietly, “I know this is hard for you to believe, but this moment that is unfolding before you; it is happening to you for a reason. Why would Everett ask us to come here, but for Haas to stay behind? You must have a little faith.”
“This is not faith,” Dyss declared resolutely. “This is superstition.”
Desi frowned in disappointment, then tried again. “Jeff, there is a man out there somewhere who is trying to corrupt and control the fountain of youth. We must find out who that man is. And Everett knows.”
“No,” Dyss said. “We need to find the missing hikers from New York.”
“And Everett has told us how we can do that,” Desi retorted. “As soon as we have a chance, we will radio Sheriff Haas. He will have a rescue crew here in plenty of time. But until then, let’s at least find out what Everett’s warnings are all about.”
“What could he possibly warn us about?” Dyss asked.
“Jeff, let me ask you a question,” Desi said. “What is the most valuable substance in the world?”
Dyss remained silent. Desi continued.
“You might initially think oil or gold or diamonds,” she said. “But of all the minerals and solvents found on the earth, water is by far and away the most valuable. Life simply could not exist without access to adequate supplies of clean water.”
“Yes,” Dyss said impatiently, “we’ve established that everything that has happened in the past two days has to do with water.”
“But not just water,” Desi protested. “Clean water.”
Desi handed Dyss the laminated map from Davis Gulch, the map he had found the night before while searching for Sarah Callahan in Davis Gulch.
“Don't you see?” she asked. “The symbols on the map. The Navajo words. It all points to clean water.”
Jeffery looked back to the paper. His eyes widened in astonishment. He suddenly saw the ancient Anasazi symbols and the cryptic Navajo words in a new light. An idea began to form inside his head.
Slowly, Jeffery turned the page over to the side with the map. He stared at the sixteen small x’s scattered across the topography. The sixteen marks suddenly began to take on new meaning. His eyes passed over each mark carefully.
Dyss fell down to his knees. He was only able to mutter two simple words.
“Clean water!”
——————————
Laura Reddish paced inside the Sheriff’s office.
This is exactly why Laura Reddish had traveled all the way to this remote town of Escalante; for the story of Jeffery Dyss; the story of the most lethal terrorist attack ever conceived; the story of the legend of Everett Ruess. She listened with riveted attention as Sheriff Haas finished recounting the events of the days of November 21st and 22nd, 2009. When Haas feel silent, she stared at him intently, waiting for more. But Haas simply stared back.
“Clean water?” Reddish asked. “That’s what triggered Jeffery’s mind? That’s what caused him to piece together the mystery? Clean water?”
Haas nodded a few times.
“Have you been able to piece this puzzle together, Miss Reddish?”
Reddish rolled her eyes for a moment.
“I’ve been able to piece together what did not happen,” she said with a bit of anger in her voice.
“Just like the men who searched for Everett Ruess in 1934,” Haas said. “They were able to eliminate several scenarios. But no one has been able to discover the scenario that makes all the pieces fit.”
“But information aides revelation,” Reddish prodded.
“Indeed,” Haas said. “And as you so aptly put it, no one is willing to divulge any new information.”
Haas leaned back in his chair. “Yes,” Haas said, “this is where the story ends; for Homeland Security, for the White House, for the newspapers. And with good reason. Who would dare to publish such a ludicrous story? Three hikers from New York discovering the fountain of youth. A man who deliberately disappeared seventy five years ago miraculously returning, his physical appearance showing not a day’s worth of aging. And a terrorist threatening to destroy the entire American Southwest by corrupting the sacred waters of the Lake of the Wounded.”
“But where is the truth?” Reddish asked boldly.
“Many believe it is better if the American people remain in ignorance;” Haas said, “that their superstitious hopes should be rewarded with lies; that it is safer for the truth to dwell in darkness. Terrorist plots are best kept unknown, for our own protection and benefit.”
Reddish stepped forward and looked intently at Sheriff Haas. “I do not believe that you believe that.”
“Miss Reddish, I assure you, everything I have told you thus far actually happened. It is the absolute truth.”
“How is that possible?” Reddish said, astonished.
Haas paused.
“When I returned to my office after Dyss and Desi had left with Everett Ruess, I received a call from Miss Kimberly Ashton, the President’s aide. She warned me that there was a man who was attempting to empty the waters of Lake Powell.”
“Pastor Pollent was that man,” Reddish said, as if asking for confirmation.
Haas nodded. “Ashton told me everything she knew about the man, and everything she knew about the whole situation.”
“And it was obvious to you then how all of this fits together?” Reddish asked.
Haas nodded, then looked out the window.
“This is what comes from jumping to false conclusions,” Haas said.
Haas turned back to Reddish, then spoke slowly. “Let me take you back to the first day, November 21st, when all of this started. Jeff and Desi were right, though only Jeff understood exactly what he was right about. This terrorist attack had everything to do with clean water.”
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
A View of the Glen Canyon Dam Walkway
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