by Gary Hansen
Ryan turned and started walking.
Sid followed, tossing the pliers over his shoulder into the sagebrush.
* * *
11:25 a.m. - Las Vegas, Nevada
The man turned his motorcycle onto a street in the small neighborhood in East Las Vegas. Unlike the many newer developments around the outskirts of the city, this street felt neither clean nor organized. A dog, chained to the water spigot on the front of a neighbor's house, ran out and barked at the motorcycle. A worn semicircle area showed the reach of the dog's chain. A car up on blocks on the left side of the street, and a front yard enclosed in chain link fence on the right, told visitors that there was no homeowner's association in this neighborhood. No one was out in the street to wave at, not that he would have waved anyway.
The motorcyclist continued to the corner lot at the end of the street. He stopped in the driveway, found neutral, and put the bike on its stand. He let it run while he dismounted. His legs were stiff from the two-hour ride from Utah. After he stretched, he walked over and pulled up the garage door. Inside was another almost new white pickup. It looked almost identical to the one he left in Page. He returned to the motorcycle, mounted it, then drove it in the garage. After shutting off the engine and dismounting, he immediately pulled down the door to keep his neighbors from inspecting the contents of the garage.
He unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off. His hair was soaked in sweat from the long ride in the heat of the day. He ran his hands through the wet hair, and then scratched his scalp. He tossed the helmet on the seat and headed into the house, leaving the job of unpacking for later, or potentially never. He stripped off his shirt as he walked into the stifling house, and scratched his stomach and chest, which where also soaked in sweat. He walked through the kitchen, not noticing the clutter of unwashed dishes on the counters. He headed directly to a dusty television propped on what looked like a nightstand that belonged next to a bed. He grabbed a remote control and hit the power button while he backed away a few steps for a better view. He remained standing. The channel showed a news reporter in studio with a picture of the Glen Canyon Dam behind, before it was blown up. He knew if he waited, the channel would eventually show what he wanted, but he flipped the channel anyway. The next channel showed a reporter interviewing what looked to be a park ranger. He flipped again. All the channels were running the story, but the third channel showed the view he wanted, an aerial view of where the dam used to be.
He caught his breath and backed up and sat on an old couch, not bothering to move the clutter aside. What he was looking at was even better than what he had seen in Utah two hours ago. Only the edges of the dam were still visible jutting from the rock walls. The water ripped through the opening, rolled over what looked like a fifty-foot drop, then raged down the canyon. It mesmerized him to watch it. It made goose bumps appear on his arms, in spite of the stifling heat. He smiled broadly and settled back into the couch.
He needed sleep after being awake most of the night. But at that moment, he couldn't imagine pulling himself away from the TV. The camera view panned upstream into LakePowell, although he wasn't interested in that. He wanted to see downstream, where the water was going. He wanted to see the flooding in the Grand Canyon. He wanted to see how far the flood had traveled, and what the expected arrival times were at various places. He wanted computer rendered images of what would happen when the water reached Lake Mead and beyond. He wanted more information about downstream. That was where the action was headed. That was where he was headed.
* * *
11:30 a.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona
Grant gazed out the large oval window of the Gulfstream. He could see the Grand Canyon stretch for miles ahead. He couldn't help but notice the thin yellow smog layer resting in the canyon, not completely blocking his vision, but partially obscuring it. He had heard about the phenomenon, where easterly winds blew air pollution from Los Angeles into the Grand Canyon, but had never actually seen it first hand. In spite of the smog, he had a great view of the canyon. The Colorado River snaked back and forth as if it didn't know where it was going. The water level looked normal, although it was impossible to tell from the plane's altitude.
Just after taking off in Page, at Grant's request, the plane had followed the river. Normally, the plane would have been required to follow traditional flight paths, but under the circumstances, since Grant was the lead government official in this emergency, the pilot had agreed to follow the river. For the first few miles the river had seemed completely full, almost overflowing. Where the canyon widened the river had widened, filling the space. There had been a few places where the canyon had intersected large side canyons. In these areas the floodwater had filled the side canyons as well. Gradually as the plane traveled at over 250 miles per hour down river, the levels subsided. The flood had not traveled this far into the canyon yet.
According to the computer modeling reports that Julia had faxed, allowing for varying friction coefficients of the canyon walls, the predicted water speed through the Grand Canyon would be between twenty and twenty-five miles per hour. The leading edge of the flood would reach the center of the Grand Canyon, GraniteNarrows, between 4:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. It would exit the canyon at the end of Pierce Basin, which was the beginning of Lake Mead at between midnight and 2:00 a.m. Peak levels of the flood would lag the leading edge by five or six hours, ultimately reaching between four hundred and five hundred feet above normal in some places in the Grand Canyon. Since the numbers in Grant's report were based on a worst-case scenario, and since both LakePowell and Mead were lower due to drought conditions, the flood levels would not be as bad. But how much difference could he count on really? Even with adjusted numbers, chances of survival for any human, beast, or structure below five hundred feet in the Grand Canyon was unlikely. Hopefully the Park Service's plan to send helicopters, warning all hikers and rafters to move to higher ground, would work, although Grant had yet to see any helicopters from the window of the plane.
Up ahead, at the end of the Grand Canyon, Grant saw a large body of water. That would be Lake Mead. When the Gulfstream flew over the lake, Grant looked straight down. The banks seemed flat, which would allow the water to spread out when it rose higher. That was good, although it was hard to tell how flat they really were from the sky.
Even without the extra floodwater, Lake Mead was the largest man-made lake in the US with a capacity of 9.2 trillion gallons. Someone had once calculated that the lake would cover Pennsylvania with over a foot of water. Right now Grant only hoped that the lake could handle all the water from LakePowell. LakePowell was the second largest, at 8.5 trillion gallons. But with the lower drought levels in both, there was a possibility. Grant looked at his watch. They had about eighteen hours to see if they could dump enough water out of Lake Mead to make room for the water from LakePowell that was already on its way. While he pondered that thought, the Gulfstream began its descent.
* * *
11:45 a.m. - Lake Powell, Utah
Greg pulled back on the throttle and the Mastercraft slowed, it's bow settling down in the water. The boat drifted in the main channel of LakePowell just off the west shoreline. They had traveled south for almost a half hour since leaving Hole-in-the-Rock. Julie figured it would take another hour to reach the marina.
She didn't understand why Greg stopped. He looked agitated, scanning his head back and forth. Actually, he hadn't seemed himself since they'd left Hole-in-the-Rock.
"What's wrong now?" she said.
"Something isn't right." He pointed up and down the channel, "Look how many boats are on the lake. I've never seen this many. It's like everybody is heading out."
Julie had noticed the heavy traffic, but then again, she had never been to Hole-in-the-Rock. Some of this traffic could be attributed to Bullfrog Marina to the north. Julie pointed downstream. "Maybe there's something going on. Something at the marina or down by the dam, some kind of party or something."
Greg shook his head. "If tha
t were the case, they'd be taking their water-ski boats, not their houseboats. This has something to do with the water level dropping. I'm sure of it."
"We could flag someone down and ask," Erika said. But there was no enthusiasm in the comment.
Paul spoke up. "We're stopping at Dangling Rope on our way back. We can ask there."
Erika was nodding. "Someone at the marina should know what's going on."
There seemed to be an unspoken consensus. Greg nodded and Erika turned back around in her seat. Greg pushed the throttle forward again and the Mastercraft accelerated back to speed. Julie looked out across the water. It did seem like everyone on the lake was heading out. Many seemed to be in a hurry. For a moment she wondered if something really was wrong. She looked at her watch. It would be lunchtime soon. She wondered what Max and Darlene were doing back at the houseboat.
* * *
11:50 a.m. - Houseboat, Lake Powell, Utah
Sitting on the roof of the houseboat, Max bent a page as a marker and tossed the paperback he was reading on the empty chair next to him. He glanced over at his wife, who was oblivious to the world, her face buried in her romance novel. The cover of the book showed a muscular man holding a woman by the waist, while the woman leaned back with a look of passion on her face. Max wished some of the passion from Darlene's books would translate into real life.
He stood and stretched, and then walked to the edge of the roof, scanning the water below and the small canyon where they were parked. He was glad he and Darlene had decided to stay alone today, but he had no intentions of wasting the whole day reading. He walked back to his wife and plucked the book from her hands.
She reached for it. "Hey."
"Enough reading for a while. Let's do something."
"Let me finish my chapter first."
He reached for her arm to help her up. "You can finish your chapter later. I'm bored. Let's eat or something."
She looked at her watch. "We just ate an hour ago."
"Fine, then lets do something else. We need to move around." He pulled her up until she was standing.
"Like what?"
He winked at her. "I don't know. How about we kayak up the canyon a ways?"
Her face showed skepticism. "It's too hot."
He pulled her away from her chair. "We'll be practically in the water. You can jump in whenever you need to." He pointed upstream. "The canyon might get really narrow up there. Maybe it's one of those cool places where you can reach from one side to the other."
"Can I bring my book?" She asked.
Max rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. But, he imagined her begging to come back after only a few minutes if she didn't have it. He gave in. "You can bring it, if you pack a few things for lunch to take with us."
She reached for the book, but he shook his head. "Not yet. Go get ready, and I'll put the kayak in the water."
A few minutes later, Max was dragging the kayak down the beach into the water. He noticed the sand was wet for at least ten or twelve feet above the waterline. He stood and looked at it for a moment. He didn't remember the wet band being so big before. Additionally, the ropes tying the houseboat to the rocky shore were tight, and Max thought he remembered them having slack before.
He was pondering whether the water had dropped when his wife walked out of the houseboat. She carried a paper bag with their lunch, and a full six-pack of sodas, and two large beach towels. More noticeable however, was that she had changed her swimsuit. Darlene was wearing one that Max had never seen before. The suit's lines were daring, and since Darlene was overweight, she rarely wore daring clothes.
Max gaped at her. She looked wonderful.
"You like it?" she asked, spinning so he could look.
He nodded.
She handed him some suntan lotion. "Here, rub this on me before we go. I don't want to get burned in this suit."
Max squirted some lotion in his hands, and forgot all about water levels and wet sand.
* * *
12:10 p.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona
Sid and Ryan could see the bottom of the TannerTrail, at least where it disappeared into the overflowing Colorado River. It was a hundred yards or so ahead. Until now, their decision to hike off trail above Escalante had been working. Actually, that was an understatement since the old Escalante ran somewhere along the original riverbank, which was now hundreds of feet underwater. So the decision to leave the trail had been genius.
Since the helicopter had warned them, Sid and Ryan couldn't believe how fast the water had risen. In total, Sid guessed the river was up three or four hundred feet. It was hard to tell. But he had never seen anything like it, even in the movies. As it rose, the river widened, and if possible, got dirtier than it already was. Before, there were rapids occasionally along the river. Now, the whole river was a rapid. This angry Colorado River was tearing apart the Grand Canyon. Every few moments, incredibly loud noises that sounded almost like explosions, echoed through the canyon as huge boulders and pieces of the rock walls broke off and rolled into the river. Rockslides were plentiful, and Sid was starting to worry that they'd get caught in one.
When they rounded the bend, the bottom of TannerTrail was just up ahead. Well, it should have been just up ahead, instead it was underwater, swallowed by the swollen Colorado River. Something seemed surreal about the way the trail meandered back and forth down the hill then right into the brown frothy water. It was as if the two scenes didn't belong together. Ryan and Sid both stopped and stared. Although the TannerTrail was less than a football field away, Sid had no idea how they were going to get to it. Their path was blocked. The ridge they were on led right into the river. They had almost made it. Sid looked at where the rocks led into the water. What if they just followed the path right into the water, and waded next to the rocks. They could even swim a little in the deep places.
Ryan must have been reading Sid's mind. He pointed at the scene, farther upstream than where Sid was looking. "Look how strong the current is up there."
Sid saw where the cliff jutted out into the river, and the current ripped past it. It would be impossible to get around that point. He held up his arms in frustration. "Now what?"
Ryan craned his head up at the small cliffs above them. "We need to get up there somehow."
The row of cliffs was only about twenty-five or thirty-feet tall in some places, and if they could find a way on top, the higher ridge would lead them the rest of the way over to Tanner.
The thought of scaling a rock wall made Sid's knee hurt even more. "I don't know if I can do it."
Ryan glared at him, angry. "What are you nuts? You want to die?"
Sid didn't answer. He was surprised at Ryan's anger. For a moment he felt more afraid of Ryan than the river itself. Something told him that Ryan wasn't going to let him quit.
Ryan continued to scan the cliffs above them for a way up. Sid joined in the search. However nothing looked plausible, especially with the knee. The rock ledges were almost vertical. A couple of places looked promising in spots, but then an overhang or some other obstacle made it too risky. Sid moved back along the ridge where they had come, to see if they had already passed something. However, if anything, the cliffs were even higher and steeper.
"Over here." Ryan yelled.
Sid turned and saw that Ryan was way down by the water, pointing up at a large cliff. Sid moved back down the trail toward him. He looked up at the rock wall where Ryan pointed. It was one of the taller parts of the ridge line, and the top was inverted and completely impassable, not to mention the bottom was in the water.
"You're kidding, right?" Sid pointed at the top. "How you gonna get over that?"
Ryan shook his head and pointed off to the left. "No. We cut across on that ledge about two thirds of the way up.
Sid hadn't seen the small ridge. It was too small. In fact it looked too small to traverse. "Are you sure?"
Ryan was already wading into the water. He was up to his armpits before he reached the base of the c
liff. "Come on. The water's still rising."
Sid followed obediently. By the time he reached the base, Ryan was already twenty feet above him, climbing up the crease. The water was cold and Sid was already shivering even though only a moment ago he was burning up. The cold moved him and made him climb faster. The knee throbbed with every step, but the pain from the cold water was worse. When he had climbed high enough to be completely out of the water, he rested, and looked up. Ryan was grasping for a handhold.
"Are you stuck?" Sid asked.
"Nah. I'm okay. Come on."
Sid climbed on. What seemed like an eternity later, he reached the spot where Ryan had struggled to find a handhold. Like he'd seen Ryan do, Sid felt around with his left hand, trying to feel for something that offered a grip. He searched for what must have been a couple minutes, but he could not find anything.
"All right, how'd you get past this spot?" He asked, without looking up.
"I couldn't get a hold of anything." The sound came from the above, but also from the left.
Sid looked up, mostly with his eyes, not daring to move his head very far. Ryan was traversing across a split in the rock. He had almost made it.
"So how'd you get past this spot then?" Sid asked.
Ryan hesitated before answering. "It's kind of tricky. Put both your hands where you're holding on with your right. Then wedge your left foot against that rock over by your knee. Then you should be able to get high enough to grab on that ledge above you."
Sid glanced over and found the rock by his knee. Carefully, he slid his foot up until it found the foothold. He rested. The bad right knee started shaking, complaining about having to support the bulk of his weight.
"Now push with your left foot and pull yourself up to the ledge."
Sid looked up and saw that Ryan had made it. He was standing on a small ledge and looking down at Sid pointing. "It's right above you. See it?"