In a previous post, I published the fourteenth part to a story a wrote a while back. Here is the final installment. If you'd like to read from the beginning, here is a link.
On the walkway of the Glen Canyon Dam, Desi stood next to Dyss.
Jeffery Dyss was still on his knees from the revelation he had discovered. As an SAR worker and an avid outdoorsman, Dyss was well familiar with the history of Escalante. He knew about the history of uranium mining in the area, dating as far back as the Manhattan Project in the 40’s.
Dyss still held in his hands the laminated paper he found in Davis Gulch the night before. ’Everett Ruess’ stood a few paces away. Slowly, Dyss looked up at Desi with a troubled look.
“Jeff,” Desi said, concerned. “What is it?”
“Clean water,” Dyss said, still in shock.
Desi stared at him blankly.
“Desi, don’t you see?” Jeff said. “Clean water. This whole thing is about clean water. Everything that has happened in the past two days. It has had nothing to do with the fountain of youth. It has had nothing to do with Everett Ruess. It has had everything to do with clean water.”
Desi shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Dyss motioned all around himself.
“Desi, look where we are,” Dyss said. “We’re standing on top of a dam. What is the sole purpose of a dam? To save and preserve clean water for later use.”
As Dyss and Desi were talking, Pastor Christopher Pollent, also known as Samuel Sarard, approached the group from the opposite, southern side of the dam’s walkway.
Desi looked out onto the Lake Powell waters. Slowly, she began to understand. “You’re saying that the three Navajo men are not trying to poison the fountain of youth,” Desi said. “They’re trying to poison Lake Powell.”
Dyss stood up and huddled so to Desi.
“Exactly,” Dyss said. “In the 1940’s, there were dozens of uranium ore mines in this area. Uranium ore contains a fraction of usable uranium, usually less than one percent. Because of this, the processing of thousands of pounds of uranium ore will only produce a few pounds of recoverable yellow cake uranium. The residual thousands of pounds of ore were deposited at certain locations in this area known as mill tailings, or tail piles.
Desi nodded, realizing the implications. “And some of those mill tailings were deposited near the Colorado River.”
Dyss spoke excitedly, and put his hands on Desi’s shoulders. “Exactly. Due to the milling process, the tails not only contain radioactive materials, but also a number of other toxic heavy metals such as arsenic and lead.
Dyss paused, still amazed at the shrewdness of Pollent’s plan. “When the dam was built in 1959,” Dyss continued, “many of these mill tails were submerged underneath the Lake Powell waters.”
“If that’s the case,” Desi said, confused, “why haven’t the waters been poisoned already?”
“There has long been a thick layer of silt and sand that has covered the tail piles, acting as a makeshift protection from these deadly contaminates,” Dyss said. “But if the silt layer was improperly disturbed..." Dyss trailed off.
“There would be nothing protecting the water from the uranium ore,” Desi said in shock.
Dyss nodded.
“How many mill tails are near here?” Desi asked.
“There are sixteen mill tails near or underneath Lake Powell,” Dyss said somberly.
Dyss slowly held up the laminated map.
“The location of each of the tail piles corresponds to the sixteen x’s marked on this map,” Dyss said. “This isn’t Sarah Callahan’s map. This is Christopher Pollent’s map. He is planning on disrupting the silt coverings on the mill tails, probably with explosives.”
Desi nodded with understanding as she continued to put the puzzle pieces together.
“And whenever he set the charges at each of the sites,” Desi said, “the pollutants already began to slowly escape their covering, poisoning the water supply.”
“Which is why the water plant at Boulder detected irregularities in the water and sent out four employees to test the waters,” Dyss said.
“But why did the water testers write such cryptic messages?” Desi asked.
“Only one of the water testers actually left a message,” Dyss explained. “The rest of the messages were manufactured. The water tester in Coyote Gulch wrote Manhattan in the sand and an arrow pointing directly to the mill tail that resided inside Coyote Gulch. The uranium ore from the mill tail in Coyote Gulch was used in the Manhattan project. That’s why he wrote Manhattan in the sand. That’s why Sarah radioed in the word Manhattan.”
“And the three Navajo men that were so grossly deformed..." Desi said.
“Those are classic symptoms of radiation poisoning,” Dyss said. “They are the ones who have been working with the mill tails.”
By this point, Pastor Pollent had now reached ‘Everett Ruess’.
“I’m impressed, Jeff,” Pollent said mockingly. “I didn’t think any of you would be able to piece all of this together.”
Dyss turned towards Pollent and glared at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Have you not understood a word I’ve preached, week after week?” Pollent asked angrily. “Nature must be preserved in its truest form. There are natural treasures of canyons and arches and sandstone buried beneath these waters.”
Pollent turned and looked out on the Lake Powell waters.
“I should thank you two,” Pollent said. “I needed some way of keeping the sheriff distracted today while the final stages of my plan were implemented. And you provided the perfect opportunity. You continually came up with ridiculously wild theories to conceal the truth, each more imaginative than the last. I just played along.”
“But why are there petroglyphs and Navajo writings on the back of your map?” Desi asked.
Pollent shrugged. “I’ve always been fascinated by petroglyphs and the people who wrote them. I wanted to be able to visit the petroglyphs while I was near them. As for the Navajo, well you were right about one thing, Desi. I am a novice when it comes to the Navajo language. I was merely writing my interpretation of the petroglyphs I was going to see. And it seemed fitting given the purpose of my visits to these ancient sites.”
Pollent chuckled at this last thought.
“But what about the rain sacrifice the Navajo men performed?” Desi asked. “Why would they do that?”
“As Jeffery already pointed out,” Pollent said, “some of the mill tails are not buried underneath Lake Powell but are adjacent to it. The contamination of the lake would be most effective if it rained the day the mill tails are destroyed. The Navajo men I’ve been working with, they thought it would help. I was happy to oblige after all they have done for me.”
Pollent paused, then turned to Dyss.
“Perhaps you most of all might understand the brilliance of this plan,” Pollent said to Dyss. “The most populated portions of Northern Mexico and Nevada, and literally all of Arizona and Southern California depend exclusively upon the Colorado River—upon this lake—for all of their water. If these waters were contaminated with nuclear toxins, every single person in these areas would die within a matter of weeks, perhaps days.”
Desi gave Pollent a confused look.
“My only desire,” Pollent said, “is to see this man-made monstrosity we are standing on rendered useless. Herein lies the perfection of the plan. Those in charge of making such a decision can choose to comply with my wishes or, when the mill tails have been destroyed and Lake Powell has been contaminated, they will be forced to release the waters and clean up the tail piles. But even with the tail piles removed, the lingering nuclear toxins will prevent the dam from being used for years to come. A different water solution for the Southwest will need to be devised. And when people have a chance to behold the natural beauties submerged beneath these waters, they will demand that the dam remain unused. But no matter what outcome, my desire will be satisfied.”
Desi motioned to Everett Ruess. “If this is all a hoax, who is that?”
Ruess flashed his friendly smile again.
Pollent turned to Ruess. “May I introduce you to my nephew? When you were sharing the account of Everett Ruess, I recognized yet another opportunity to distract you from the true nature of the events of this day.”
Pollent paused, then became visibly angry. “Need I explain the obvious?” Pollent yelled. “It was apparent that Dyss was getting too close to the truth. I told my nephew to pose as Everett Ruess and to lead you two as far away from Escalante as you were willing to go.”
Pollent calmed down. “As we began to implement our plan,” Pollent mused, “even I was surprised at the level of toxins that were trapped within the tail piles. We began to realize that our threat was going to be far more potent than we had initially hoped for. When one of the Navajo men who was assisting me realized this, he insisted that we abort our plan.”
Pollent’s mind flashed back to the day before, when he had shot this Navajo man. He saw in his mind the man’s body fall out of the boat and land in the water. He saw the body as it began to float towards Sarah Callahan.
Pollent shook his head slightly and brought his mind back to the present.
“So here we are, only a few hours away from one of the most important moments in American history.”
Dyss and Desi stood in silent shock. Their minds tried to grasp how Pollent could possibly think that the loss of millions of lives could seem less important than a few submerged canyons.
As their minds struggled to understand, Dyss remembered the gun that was tucked away inside his pocket. It was the gun that Haas had given to him when he was at the head of Zebra Canyon.
Quickly, instinctively, Dyss removed the gun and pointed it at Pollent.
Pollent’s nephew, the man who had posed as Everett Ruess, charged forward at Dyss. Dyss pointed the gun downward and pulled the trigger. The gun discharged. The bullet hit Pollent’s nephew in the leg. He collapsed to the ground and eventually passed out.
Dyss pointed the gun again at Pollent.
“Where is the trigger mechanism for the explosives you have set?” Dyss screamed at Pollent.
Pollent seemed completely undeterred and unbothered by the appearance and use of Dyss’ gun. Pollent laughed.
“You were hoping I would have some sort of remote control here with me?” Pollent asked mockingly. “Something with a button? You were hoping as long as you could stop me from pressing the big red button, you could prevent the inevitable?”
Pollent turned back to Lake Powell.
“I used a timing mechanism,” Pollent said. “And why would I bother bringing such a devise with me?” Pollent let out a single, sarcastic laugh.
Dyss looked out onto the Lake Powell waters. His mind began to grasp why Pollent chose a timing mechanism.
“You have no intention of stopping the explosives from going off,” Dyss said in shock. “It doesn’t matter if they empty the lake or not, you’re going to destroy those tail piles.”
Pollent turned to Dyss. “I can’t take any chances,” Pollent said. “If I don’t destroy those tail piles, what’s to prevent the government from filling this lake up again? This dam must be permanently obliterated.”
Dyss lowered his gun in shock.
“Millions of people will die,” Dyss said.
“In all likelihood,” Pollent said.
Dyss lowered his gun even farther. Pollent quickly moved forward and grabbed Desi.
Dyss was slow to react. By the time he raised his gun and pointed it, Pollent had already grabbed Desi and forced her in front of himself, using her as a human shield.
Pollent slowly backed away until he was at the edge of the dam on the river’s side. Time seemed to stand still as Dyss searched his brain for something to do. The next few seconds seemed like an eternity as all three of them remained motionless.
Finally, Desi spoke. “Jeff,” Desi said softly, “do you know how to stop the explosives?”
Dyss looked deeply into Desi’s eyes. He lowered his gun slightly. A look of pain crossed his face as he could tell what Desi was planning.
Dyss slowly nodded. “Yes,” he said in almost a whisper.
Without hesitating, Desi dug her feet into the concrete and pushed backwards as hard as she could.
Pollent was not prepared for the motion. The two of them began tumbling backwards. They collapsed into the wall of the dam and toppled over the side.
Dyss ran forward to the edge of the dam as quickly as he could. Horrified, he looked over the side.
Dyss watched, transfixed, as he saw Pollent’s body quickly fall down to the river below. Within a matter of moments, the body lost definition and became an obscure bundle tumbling, being taken over by the laws of gravity.
To his relief, Dyss saw Desi’s hand clinging onto the edge of the dam wall.
Dyss quickly reached over the side and pulled Desi up and over to safety. Desi and Dyss collapsed onto the solid ground of the dam. Desi quickly turned to Dyss.
“How do we stop the explosives?” Desi asked.
Dyss nodded, grabbed Desi’s arm, stood up, and began running across the dam towards the visitor’s center.
——————————
Inside the Escalante sheriff’s office, Haas was sitting at his desk waiting to hear from Dyss. The radio crackled to life.
“Sheriff Haas, this is Jeffery Dyss,” the voice came anxiously over the radio.
“This is Sheriff Haas,” he replied. “Jeff, what is it?”
“Haas,” Dyss said, “we need you to get to Davis Gulch as quickly as you can.”
“What’s in Davis Gulch?” Haas asked.
Inside the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center, Dyss and Desi were using the radio.
“The three missing hikers are there,” Dyss said. “They should be at the grotto where Lake Powell meets Davis Gulch; the place where we found the Nemo carving.”
——————————
Haas had taken the chopper to Davis Gulch. He ran through the Davis Gulch canyon to reach the end as quickly as he could. Haas still couldn’t believe what was happening. As he ran, he heard Dyss’ voice as he had explained the situation over the radio.
“Pastor Pollent’s boat should be at the end of Davis Gulch,” Dyss had said. “The three hikers will be inside the boat. Let’s hope they are still alive.”
Haas ran to the edge of the canyon inside the grotto and looked down into the pool below. The boat was there. Haas saw the tied-up hikers. They were still alive. Sarah and her friends looked up at Haas.
Haas began to use the rope the Navajo men had left behind to go down to the boat. As he down-climbed, he heard Dyss’ voice in his head again.
“When you reach the boat,” Dyss and said, “search it as quickly and as thoroughly as you can. You need to find a detonating device that controls some explosives. Within a matter of hours, the device will send a signal to detonate the explosives. You must find a way to kill the device’s signal. The detonator must not be able to go off.”
Haas made his way down to the boat and began to search the compartments. He quickly found a large black electronic box in the dash of the boat. He turned the device over in his hands.
Haas found a switch on the device and flicked it off. He put the device down and turned to Sarah. He kneeled down and began to untie her.
Sarah smiled, again revealing her bright grin.
——————————
Inside the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center, Dyss put the radio down with a sigh of relief.
As he caught his breath, Dyss turned to Desi, then paused.
“Were you planning on grabbing the side of the dam when you forced Pastor Pollent over the wall?” Dyss asked.
Desi smiled and paused for a second.
“This is how legends start,” Desi said mysteriously.
Dyss laughed, then moved forward and kissed Desi.
The End
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
<<< Go back to the beginning of the book
A view of the Glen Canyon Dam
A view of the recent spills in the Colorado River
A stained rock from the recent spills in the Colorado River
Below are a few more pictures of the amazing Utah desert water system, with the author in a few shots...
Chapter 15
On the walkway of the Glen Canyon Dam, Desi stood next to Dyss.
Jeffery Dyss was still on his knees from the revelation he had discovered. As an SAR worker and an avid outdoorsman, Dyss was well familiar with the history of Escalante. He knew about the history of uranium mining in the area, dating as far back as the Manhattan Project in the 40’s.
Dyss still held in his hands the laminated paper he found in Davis Gulch the night before. ’Everett Ruess’ stood a few paces away. Slowly, Dyss looked up at Desi with a troubled look.
“Jeff,” Desi said, concerned. “What is it?”
“Clean water,” Dyss said, still in shock.
Desi stared at him blankly.
“Desi, don’t you see?” Jeff said. “Clean water. This whole thing is about clean water. Everything that has happened in the past two days. It has had nothing to do with the fountain of youth. It has had nothing to do with Everett Ruess. It has had everything to do with clean water.”
Desi shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Dyss motioned all around himself.
“Desi, look where we are,” Dyss said. “We’re standing on top of a dam. What is the sole purpose of a dam? To save and preserve clean water for later use.”
As Dyss and Desi were talking, Pastor Christopher Pollent, also known as Samuel Sarard, approached the group from the opposite, southern side of the dam’s walkway.
Desi looked out onto the Lake Powell waters. Slowly, she began to understand. “You’re saying that the three Navajo men are not trying to poison the fountain of youth,” Desi said. “They’re trying to poison Lake Powell.”
Dyss stood up and huddled so to Desi.
“Exactly,” Dyss said. “In the 1940’s, there were dozens of uranium ore mines in this area. Uranium ore contains a fraction of usable uranium, usually less than one percent. Because of this, the processing of thousands of pounds of uranium ore will only produce a few pounds of recoverable yellow cake uranium. The residual thousands of pounds of ore were deposited at certain locations in this area known as mill tailings, or tail piles.
Desi nodded, realizing the implications. “And some of those mill tailings were deposited near the Colorado River.”
Dyss spoke excitedly, and put his hands on Desi’s shoulders. “Exactly. Due to the milling process, the tails not only contain radioactive materials, but also a number of other toxic heavy metals such as arsenic and lead.
Dyss paused, still amazed at the shrewdness of Pollent’s plan. “When the dam was built in 1959,” Dyss continued, “many of these mill tails were submerged underneath the Lake Powell waters.”
“If that’s the case,” Desi said, confused, “why haven’t the waters been poisoned already?”
“There has long been a thick layer of silt and sand that has covered the tail piles, acting as a makeshift protection from these deadly contaminates,” Dyss said. “But if the silt layer was improperly disturbed..." Dyss trailed off.
“There would be nothing protecting the water from the uranium ore,” Desi said in shock.
Dyss nodded.
“How many mill tails are near here?” Desi asked.
“There are sixteen mill tails near or underneath Lake Powell,” Dyss said somberly.
Dyss slowly held up the laminated map.
“The location of each of the tail piles corresponds to the sixteen x’s marked on this map,” Dyss said. “This isn’t Sarah Callahan’s map. This is Christopher Pollent’s map. He is planning on disrupting the silt coverings on the mill tails, probably with explosives.”
Desi nodded with understanding as she continued to put the puzzle pieces together.
“And whenever he set the charges at each of the sites,” Desi said, “the pollutants already began to slowly escape their covering, poisoning the water supply.”
“Which is why the water plant at Boulder detected irregularities in the water and sent out four employees to test the waters,” Dyss said.
“But why did the water testers write such cryptic messages?” Desi asked.
“Only one of the water testers actually left a message,” Dyss explained. “The rest of the messages were manufactured. The water tester in Coyote Gulch wrote Manhattan in the sand and an arrow pointing directly to the mill tail that resided inside Coyote Gulch. The uranium ore from the mill tail in Coyote Gulch was used in the Manhattan project. That’s why he wrote Manhattan in the sand. That’s why Sarah radioed in the word Manhattan.”
“And the three Navajo men that were so grossly deformed..." Desi said.
“Those are classic symptoms of radiation poisoning,” Dyss said. “They are the ones who have been working with the mill tails.”
By this point, Pastor Pollent had now reached ‘Everett Ruess’.
“I’m impressed, Jeff,” Pollent said mockingly. “I didn’t think any of you would be able to piece all of this together.”
Dyss turned towards Pollent and glared at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Have you not understood a word I’ve preached, week after week?” Pollent asked angrily. “Nature must be preserved in its truest form. There are natural treasures of canyons and arches and sandstone buried beneath these waters.”
Pollent turned and looked out on the Lake Powell waters.
“I should thank you two,” Pollent said. “I needed some way of keeping the sheriff distracted today while the final stages of my plan were implemented. And you provided the perfect opportunity. You continually came up with ridiculously wild theories to conceal the truth, each more imaginative than the last. I just played along.”
“But why are there petroglyphs and Navajo writings on the back of your map?” Desi asked.
Pollent shrugged. “I’ve always been fascinated by petroglyphs and the people who wrote them. I wanted to be able to visit the petroglyphs while I was near them. As for the Navajo, well you were right about one thing, Desi. I am a novice when it comes to the Navajo language. I was merely writing my interpretation of the petroglyphs I was going to see. And it seemed fitting given the purpose of my visits to these ancient sites.”
Pollent chuckled at this last thought.
“But what about the rain sacrifice the Navajo men performed?” Desi asked. “Why would they do that?”
“As Jeffery already pointed out,” Pollent said, “some of the mill tails are not buried underneath Lake Powell but are adjacent to it. The contamination of the lake would be most effective if it rained the day the mill tails are destroyed. The Navajo men I’ve been working with, they thought it would help. I was happy to oblige after all they have done for me.”
Pollent paused, then turned to Dyss.
“Perhaps you most of all might understand the brilliance of this plan,” Pollent said to Dyss. “The most populated portions of Northern Mexico and Nevada, and literally all of Arizona and Southern California depend exclusively upon the Colorado River—upon this lake—for all of their water. If these waters were contaminated with nuclear toxins, every single person in these areas would die within a matter of weeks, perhaps days.”
Desi gave Pollent a confused look.
“My only desire,” Pollent said, “is to see this man-made monstrosity we are standing on rendered useless. Herein lies the perfection of the plan. Those in charge of making such a decision can choose to comply with my wishes or, when the mill tails have been destroyed and Lake Powell has been contaminated, they will be forced to release the waters and clean up the tail piles. But even with the tail piles removed, the lingering nuclear toxins will prevent the dam from being used for years to come. A different water solution for the Southwest will need to be devised. And when people have a chance to behold the natural beauties submerged beneath these waters, they will demand that the dam remain unused. But no matter what outcome, my desire will be satisfied.”
Desi motioned to Everett Ruess. “If this is all a hoax, who is that?”
Ruess flashed his friendly smile again.
Pollent turned to Ruess. “May I introduce you to my nephew? When you were sharing the account of Everett Ruess, I recognized yet another opportunity to distract you from the true nature of the events of this day.”
Pollent paused, then became visibly angry. “Need I explain the obvious?” Pollent yelled. “It was apparent that Dyss was getting too close to the truth. I told my nephew to pose as Everett Ruess and to lead you two as far away from Escalante as you were willing to go.”
Pollent calmed down. “As we began to implement our plan,” Pollent mused, “even I was surprised at the level of toxins that were trapped within the tail piles. We began to realize that our threat was going to be far more potent than we had initially hoped for. When one of the Navajo men who was assisting me realized this, he insisted that we abort our plan.”
Pollent’s mind flashed back to the day before, when he had shot this Navajo man. He saw in his mind the man’s body fall out of the boat and land in the water. He saw the body as it began to float towards Sarah Callahan.
Pollent shook his head slightly and brought his mind back to the present.
“So here we are, only a few hours away from one of the most important moments in American history.”
Dyss and Desi stood in silent shock. Their minds tried to grasp how Pollent could possibly think that the loss of millions of lives could seem less important than a few submerged canyons.
As their minds struggled to understand, Dyss remembered the gun that was tucked away inside his pocket. It was the gun that Haas had given to him when he was at the head of Zebra Canyon.
Quickly, instinctively, Dyss removed the gun and pointed it at Pollent.
Pollent’s nephew, the man who had posed as Everett Ruess, charged forward at Dyss. Dyss pointed the gun downward and pulled the trigger. The gun discharged. The bullet hit Pollent’s nephew in the leg. He collapsed to the ground and eventually passed out.
Dyss pointed the gun again at Pollent.
“Where is the trigger mechanism for the explosives you have set?” Dyss screamed at Pollent.
Pollent seemed completely undeterred and unbothered by the appearance and use of Dyss’ gun. Pollent laughed.
“You were hoping I would have some sort of remote control here with me?” Pollent asked mockingly. “Something with a button? You were hoping as long as you could stop me from pressing the big red button, you could prevent the inevitable?”
Pollent turned back to Lake Powell.
“I used a timing mechanism,” Pollent said. “And why would I bother bringing such a devise with me?” Pollent let out a single, sarcastic laugh.
Dyss looked out onto the Lake Powell waters. His mind began to grasp why Pollent chose a timing mechanism.
“You have no intention of stopping the explosives from going off,” Dyss said in shock. “It doesn’t matter if they empty the lake or not, you’re going to destroy those tail piles.”
Pollent turned to Dyss. “I can’t take any chances,” Pollent said. “If I don’t destroy those tail piles, what’s to prevent the government from filling this lake up again? This dam must be permanently obliterated.”
Dyss lowered his gun in shock.
“Millions of people will die,” Dyss said.
“In all likelihood,” Pollent said.
Dyss lowered his gun even farther. Pollent quickly moved forward and grabbed Desi.
Dyss was slow to react. By the time he raised his gun and pointed it, Pollent had already grabbed Desi and forced her in front of himself, using her as a human shield.
Pollent slowly backed away until he was at the edge of the dam on the river’s side. Time seemed to stand still as Dyss searched his brain for something to do. The next few seconds seemed like an eternity as all three of them remained motionless.
Finally, Desi spoke. “Jeff,” Desi said softly, “do you know how to stop the explosives?”
Dyss looked deeply into Desi’s eyes. He lowered his gun slightly. A look of pain crossed his face as he could tell what Desi was planning.
Dyss slowly nodded. “Yes,” he said in almost a whisper.
Without hesitating, Desi dug her feet into the concrete and pushed backwards as hard as she could.
Pollent was not prepared for the motion. The two of them began tumbling backwards. They collapsed into the wall of the dam and toppled over the side.
Dyss ran forward to the edge of the dam as quickly as he could. Horrified, he looked over the side.
Dyss watched, transfixed, as he saw Pollent’s body quickly fall down to the river below. Within a matter of moments, the body lost definition and became an obscure bundle tumbling, being taken over by the laws of gravity.
To his relief, Dyss saw Desi’s hand clinging onto the edge of the dam wall.
Dyss quickly reached over the side and pulled Desi up and over to safety. Desi and Dyss collapsed onto the solid ground of the dam. Desi quickly turned to Dyss.
“How do we stop the explosives?” Desi asked.
Dyss nodded, grabbed Desi’s arm, stood up, and began running across the dam towards the visitor’s center.
——————————
Inside the Escalante sheriff’s office, Haas was sitting at his desk waiting to hear from Dyss. The radio crackled to life.
“Sheriff Haas, this is Jeffery Dyss,” the voice came anxiously over the radio.
“This is Sheriff Haas,” he replied. “Jeff, what is it?”
“Haas,” Dyss said, “we need you to get to Davis Gulch as quickly as you can.”
“What’s in Davis Gulch?” Haas asked.
Inside the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center, Dyss and Desi were using the radio.
“The three missing hikers are there,” Dyss said. “They should be at the grotto where Lake Powell meets Davis Gulch; the place where we found the Nemo carving.”
——————————
Haas had taken the chopper to Davis Gulch. He ran through the Davis Gulch canyon to reach the end as quickly as he could. Haas still couldn’t believe what was happening. As he ran, he heard Dyss’ voice as he had explained the situation over the radio.
“Pastor Pollent’s boat should be at the end of Davis Gulch,” Dyss had said. “The three hikers will be inside the boat. Let’s hope they are still alive.”
Haas ran to the edge of the canyon inside the grotto and looked down into the pool below. The boat was there. Haas saw the tied-up hikers. They were still alive. Sarah and her friends looked up at Haas.
Haas began to use the rope the Navajo men had left behind to go down to the boat. As he down-climbed, he heard Dyss’ voice in his head again.
“When you reach the boat,” Dyss and said, “search it as quickly and as thoroughly as you can. You need to find a detonating device that controls some explosives. Within a matter of hours, the device will send a signal to detonate the explosives. You must find a way to kill the device’s signal. The detonator must not be able to go off.”
Haas made his way down to the boat and began to search the compartments. He quickly found a large black electronic box in the dash of the boat. He turned the device over in his hands.
Haas found a switch on the device and flicked it off. He put the device down and turned to Sarah. He kneeled down and began to untie her.
Sarah smiled, again revealing her bright grin.
——————————
Inside the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center, Dyss put the radio down with a sigh of relief.
As he caught his breath, Dyss turned to Desi, then paused.
“Were you planning on grabbing the side of the dam when you forced Pastor Pollent over the wall?” Dyss asked.
Desi smiled and paused for a second.
“This is how legends start,” Desi said mysteriously.
Dyss laughed, then moved forward and kissed Desi.
The End
<<< Go back to the previous chapter
<<< Go back to the beginning of the book
A view of the Glen Canyon Dam
A view of the recent spills in the Colorado River
A stained rock from the recent spills in the Colorado River
Below are a few more pictures of the amazing Utah desert water system, with the author in a few shots...
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