In a previous post, I published the twelfth part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the next installment.
Pollent’s boat skipped along the water as it navigated one of the many channels inside Lake Powell. The boat was cruising through the waters at nearly 30 miles per hour. The three Navajo men were busy tying Sarah, Trent, and Monique down to the floor of the boat. Pollent steered at the helm.
One of the Navajos turned to Pollent. “What’s our next stop?” he said.
“Why don’t you check the map and see for yourself?” Pollent replied.
The Navajo man checked the side compartment of the boat for the map. He noticed it was missing, then frantically began searching the boat.
“What’s wrong?” Pollent asked, glancing back.
“I can’t find the map,” the Navajo man replied.
Pollent immediately pulled the throttle on the boat to stop. The boat quickly coasted to a halt. Because of the abrupt stop, the boat rocked against the waves created by the propeller.
“What do you mean you can’t find the map?” Pollent yelled lividly. “Where’s our map?”
The Navajo man continued to search the boat, then stopped. His head looked up as he realized what had happened.
“It must have fallen out back at the grotto in Davis Gulch,” he said.
Sarah looked up at the two men.
“What were you doing scuba diving there anyway?” Sarah asked in as rough of a voice as she could muster. “Look at the water. It’s as murky as mud.”
Pollent looked at Sarah.
“Shut up,” he said in a voice that terrified the group.
“What are we going to do about the map?” the Navajo man asked Pollent.
“The map doesn’t matter anymore,” Pollent said. “We only have one stop left before all sixteen tails are prepped and ready.” Pollent turned back to the helm of the boat. “Coyote Gulch,” he said in almost a whisper.
Trent turned to Sarah. “Tails?” he whispered. “What are they talking about?”
Sarah thought for a moment, then realized what ‘tails’ meant.
“Back in the 1940’s,” Sarah whispered, “there were dozens of mines in this area, including the…”
“I told you to shut up!” Pollent yelled, interrupting Sarah’s thought.
Pollent turned back to the Navajo men. “Prep the dynamite,” he yelled. “We’ll arrive at Coyote Gulch in twenty minutes.”
——————————
Inside Coyote Gulch, Sven Faust dropped his heavy backpack into the sand next to the perennial stream running through canyon. He reached down to the pack and removed a small plastic test tube. He dipped the tube into the stream to retrieve a sample of the water. He placed the tube back into his pack.
A small light on the inside of the pack turned on, barely visible through the fabric of the pack. Sven looked worriedly at the light.
Sven Faust was one of the four men sent out by the Boulder Water District to test the recent anomalies in the Escalante River water.
Sven turned and looked up the canyon at the fading light. His eyes rested on an oddly-shaped tree at the top of a small sand dune.
Sven climbed the dune and knelt at the base of the tree. He checked his compass again, then poked his finger into the sand below the tree and drew an image.
After writing his message, Sven stood up and pointed his straightened arm across the canyon. He looked down at his arrow in the sand and slightly adjusted his arm, then began walking in the direction of the arrow.
Sven walked across the breadth of the entire canyon to a large pile of rocks and sand. He grabbed a thick plastic bag from his pack and opened it. He reached down to the pile and grabbed a large handful of rocks and sand, then placed it inside the bag.
Sven heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He paused, and stood upright. He looked around his shoulder to see a group of men approaching. As subtly as possible, Sven dropped his sample bag to the ground.
Pollent and two of the Navajo men began walking up the slope that led to the top of the rock pile. From the top of the pile, Sven stared down at the men.
Pollent and his group stopped when they saw Sven. Pollent looked down at the sample bag on the ground. Pollent glared threateningly at Sven.
“Doing a bit of research?” Pollent asked menacingly.
Sven remained silent.
“Discovered any interesting findings to report?” Pollent asked in the same menacing voice.
Sven again remained silent. The two men stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Sven broke the stare when he reached down to his backpack and retrieved his radio. He tried to hail someone on the radio, but before he could, he fell to the ground as he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. One of the Navajo men had thrown a rock at Sven.
On the ground, Sven struggled to remain conscious. He tried to yell for help, but by this point the group of men had surrounded him. One of them reached down and muffled his scream.
“What are we going to do with him?” one of the Navajo men asked Pollent. “The boat is getting awfully crowded.”
Pollent scanned the canyon floor, checking to see if anyone had seen them. His eyes slowly rested on the stream a few dozen yards away. Pollent looked back at Sven.
“Tell me, stranger,” Polllent said to Sven, “have you ever been in Coyote Gulch before?”
Pollent paused, then leaned down, looking Sven square in the eyes. “It’s notorious for its terrible quicksand,” Pollent said with a tone of finality.
Pollent and the two Navajo men quickly dragged Sven down to the stream. There was a small waterfall a bit further upcanyon.
Pollent and the men led Sven into the water beneath the waterfall. Sven quickly began sinking into the sand, but he only sank knee deep before he stopped. The water reached his navel. Pollent and the Navajo men had also sunk, but not nearly as far as Sven.
The Navajo men pushed downward onto Sven’s shoulders. Sven slowly began to sink deeper into the quicksand. Sven panicked and began to let out a scream, but one of the Navajo men covered his mouth. The Navajo men pushed until Sven was fully submerged.
The Navajo men stepped away from the body of Sven and began to walk back to the rock pile. Once at the rock pile, one of the Navajo men grabbed Sven’s backpack and threw it over his shoulder.
“Let’s set the dynamite,” Pollent said.
Sven quickly found a rock on the stream-bed floor, and began to carve his final message into the moss next to him. ‘3 ANDERE.’ There were three other water testers out there. It was all Sven could do to warn whoever found him about the impending danger awaiting the area.
——————————
Pollent and the two Navajo men arrived back at the boat. It was waiting for them at the place where Coyote Gulch met up with Lake Powell. When they arrived, the last bits of light from the November sunset were just barely fading away. Sarah and her group were still tied down to the floor of the boat. They had also been gagged with bandannas. The one Navajo man that had been left behind to watch them stared menacingly at Sarah.
Pollent and the other Navajo men hopped onto the boat. Pollent walked to the front of the boat and retrieved a large radio from the dash. He turned to his cohorts and smiled.
“We’ve put in a lot of work for this moment,” Pollent said with satisfaction. “It’s time to call the President. The waters of the Colorado River will finally be set free. We are the ones who will restore and preserve the original beauty of this sacred land.”
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
Chapter 13
Pollent’s boat skipped along the water as it navigated one of the many channels inside Lake Powell. The boat was cruising through the waters at nearly 30 miles per hour. The three Navajo men were busy tying Sarah, Trent, and Monique down to the floor of the boat. Pollent steered at the helm.
One of the Navajos turned to Pollent. “What’s our next stop?” he said.
“Why don’t you check the map and see for yourself?” Pollent replied.
The Navajo man checked the side compartment of the boat for the map. He noticed it was missing, then frantically began searching the boat.
“What’s wrong?” Pollent asked, glancing back.
“I can’t find the map,” the Navajo man replied.
Pollent immediately pulled the throttle on the boat to stop. The boat quickly coasted to a halt. Because of the abrupt stop, the boat rocked against the waves created by the propeller.
“What do you mean you can’t find the map?” Pollent yelled lividly. “Where’s our map?”
The Navajo man continued to search the boat, then stopped. His head looked up as he realized what had happened.
“It must have fallen out back at the grotto in Davis Gulch,” he said.
Sarah looked up at the two men.
“What were you doing scuba diving there anyway?” Sarah asked in as rough of a voice as she could muster. “Look at the water. It’s as murky as mud.”
Pollent looked at Sarah.
“Shut up,” he said in a voice that terrified the group.
“What are we going to do about the map?” the Navajo man asked Pollent.
“The map doesn’t matter anymore,” Pollent said. “We only have one stop left before all sixteen tails are prepped and ready.” Pollent turned back to the helm of the boat. “Coyote Gulch,” he said in almost a whisper.
Trent turned to Sarah. “Tails?” he whispered. “What are they talking about?”
Sarah thought for a moment, then realized what ‘tails’ meant.
“Back in the 1940’s,” Sarah whispered, “there were dozens of mines in this area, including the…”
“I told you to shut up!” Pollent yelled, interrupting Sarah’s thought.
Pollent turned back to the Navajo men. “Prep the dynamite,” he yelled. “We’ll arrive at Coyote Gulch in twenty minutes.”
——————————
Inside Coyote Gulch, Sven Faust dropped his heavy backpack into the sand next to the perennial stream running through canyon. He reached down to the pack and removed a small plastic test tube. He dipped the tube into the stream to retrieve a sample of the water. He placed the tube back into his pack.
A small light on the inside of the pack turned on, barely visible through the fabric of the pack. Sven looked worriedly at the light.
Sven Faust was one of the four men sent out by the Boulder Water District to test the recent anomalies in the Escalante River water.
Sven turned and looked up the canyon at the fading light. His eyes rested on an oddly-shaped tree at the top of a small sand dune.
Sven climbed the dune and knelt at the base of the tree. He checked his compass again, then poked his finger into the sand below the tree and drew an image.
After writing his message, Sven stood up and pointed his straightened arm across the canyon. He looked down at his arrow in the sand and slightly adjusted his arm, then began walking in the direction of the arrow.
Sven walked across the breadth of the entire canyon to a large pile of rocks and sand. He grabbed a thick plastic bag from his pack and opened it. He reached down to the pile and grabbed a large handful of rocks and sand, then placed it inside the bag.
Sven heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He paused, and stood upright. He looked around his shoulder to see a group of men approaching. As subtly as possible, Sven dropped his sample bag to the ground.
Pollent and two of the Navajo men began walking up the slope that led to the top of the rock pile. From the top of the pile, Sven stared down at the men.
Pollent and his group stopped when they saw Sven. Pollent looked down at the sample bag on the ground. Pollent glared threateningly at Sven.
“Doing a bit of research?” Pollent asked menacingly.
Sven remained silent.
“Discovered any interesting findings to report?” Pollent asked in the same menacing voice.
Sven again remained silent. The two men stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Sven broke the stare when he reached down to his backpack and retrieved his radio. He tried to hail someone on the radio, but before he could, he fell to the ground as he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head. One of the Navajo men had thrown a rock at Sven.
On the ground, Sven struggled to remain conscious. He tried to yell for help, but by this point the group of men had surrounded him. One of them reached down and muffled his scream.
“What are we going to do with him?” one of the Navajo men asked Pollent. “The boat is getting awfully crowded.”
Pollent scanned the canyon floor, checking to see if anyone had seen them. His eyes slowly rested on the stream a few dozen yards away. Pollent looked back at Sven.
“Tell me, stranger,” Polllent said to Sven, “have you ever been in Coyote Gulch before?”
Pollent paused, then leaned down, looking Sven square in the eyes. “It’s notorious for its terrible quicksand,” Pollent said with a tone of finality.
Pollent and the two Navajo men quickly dragged Sven down to the stream. There was a small waterfall a bit further upcanyon.
Pollent and the men led Sven into the water beneath the waterfall. Sven quickly began sinking into the sand, but he only sank knee deep before he stopped. The water reached his navel. Pollent and the Navajo men had also sunk, but not nearly as far as Sven.
The Navajo men pushed downward onto Sven’s shoulders. Sven slowly began to sink deeper into the quicksand. Sven panicked and began to let out a scream, but one of the Navajo men covered his mouth. The Navajo men pushed until Sven was fully submerged.
The Navajo men stepped away from the body of Sven and began to walk back to the rock pile. Once at the rock pile, one of the Navajo men grabbed Sven’s backpack and threw it over his shoulder.
“Let’s set the dynamite,” Pollent said.
Sven quickly found a rock on the stream-bed floor, and began to carve his final message into the moss next to him. ‘3 ANDERE.’ There were three other water testers out there. It was all Sven could do to warn whoever found him about the impending danger awaiting the area.
——————————
Pollent and the two Navajo men arrived back at the boat. It was waiting for them at the place where Coyote Gulch met up with Lake Powell. When they arrived, the last bits of light from the November sunset were just barely fading away. Sarah and her group were still tied down to the floor of the boat. They had also been gagged with bandannas. The one Navajo man that had been left behind to watch them stared menacingly at Sarah.
Pollent and the other Navajo men hopped onto the boat. Pollent walked to the front of the boat and retrieved a large radio from the dash. He turned to his cohorts and smiled.
“We’ve put in a lot of work for this moment,” Pollent said with satisfaction. “It’s time to call the President. The waters of the Colorado River will finally be set free. We are the ones who will restore and preserve the original beauty of this sacred land.”
Continue reading the next chapter >>>
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
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