by JC Ryan
Now there was a new asset. Without mentioning how he came by the idea, one member opined that it would be nice if the Eighth Cycle discovery could lead them to the answer they’d been looking for; how to swiftly subdue all world governments with little bloodshed and put everyone under one government. What a blessing would it be to humanity if that day arrived. The day when there is one government, one currency, no war, no religion, no suffering, no terrorism, food for everyone, global and efficient health services, housing, happiness and peace. Of course, there would be no mention of individual freedoms. The cost of the Utopia they envision would be acquiescence to the greater good.
Yes, it was a prerequisite to becoming a member of Eligo Rarus. Apart from being the richest of the rich, they were expected to be a humanitarian and promise to devote their time, resources and effort for the good of humanity. Atheism was also required. There was no place for religion in the Eligo Rarus worldview; it had just caused too much trouble in human history. Already a meme with this outcome in mind was circulating on Eligo Rarus-controlled social media. It stated: If all religions preach peace, why can’t all religions maintain peace? Christians, Jews, Muslims — all had contributed to millions upon millions being killed in the name of religion. And that must be stopped.
By the end of the secret meeting, they all had their assignments.
Chapter 10 - Spicy food and cheap tequila
JR and Robert Cartwright, the Foundation's geology consultant, also set out on their journey on Saturday, first driving to Denver International Airport and then boarding a flight for Flagstaff, Arizona, where they'd rent a vehicle to drive to the park. The men were good friends, having survived two hazardous expeditions in Antarctica together. Their gear was well broken-in, minimal as the parameters of the trek required.
Because they would be on special permit in the back country of a National Park, they would have to pack out everything they brought in, including their own waste. Between the heat at the bottom of the canyon at mid-day in May and the need to move fast, they were traveling light, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs, toiletry necessities, a supply of sunscreen that JR's physician wife Rebecca insisted upon, a few changes of underwear, dried survival food and their cameras. Water would be filtered from the Colorado River with a tiny apparatus using a nano carbon filter and some other technology that JR didn't understand, provided courtesy of Roy James’ prolific lab.
Bivouac would be under the starry sky, with a rock for a pillow at best, unless the night were unseasonably warm, in which case they'd be able to use their outer, long-sleeved shirts to cushion their heads from the hard ground. Temperatures would range from a high of around ninety degrees Fahrenheit during the day to a low in the mid-fifties at night. During the day, the relentless sun would make the temperature feel much hotter than it was. At night, the dry air would have the opposite effect, exaggerating the feeling of cool on their skin. This would not be a comfortable trip in any sense of the word.
JR carried a satellite phone, and Robert had a complex survey tool designed for back country exploration by a company that had licensed some of Roy James' nanotech inventions. With it, he could pinpoint their location with a high degree of precision using the GPS system, as well as measure distance between one point and another. It would record their trip automatically, and when the data was downloaded, draw an accurate map directly to whatever they found. It would also measure and precisely map the interior of a structure or even a cave, in three dimensions.
Each man carried a one-thousand foot coil of climbing filament, a core of nano carbon thread, another of Roy’s toys, wrapped in a nylon sheath, super light and stronger than any old-technology climbing rope had ever been. They also each had a supply of tiny nano steel pitons and a small rock hammer. If they used them, the pitons would have to be removed as they descended and carried out with them as well. However, both men were well-versed in free-climbing techniques, so they wouldn't use either the filament or the pitons unless it was absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, they’d be less destructive to the environment. JR blessed their access to Roy’s numerous gadgets each time he hefted his backpack. Just the weight reduction alone was astounding.
The mission was to find the coordinates they'd been given and survey the canyon walls on both sides of the narrow defile for any sign of man-made structures or caves that might hold such structures. If they found anything, no matter how insignificant, they were to measure and photograph it, leave it in situ and return with their report. It was simple enough, but required the skill and strength that the men brought to the mission. Despite the hardships they expected, both men looked forward to the challenge, and set out with good cheer. They wouldn't be able to speak of their objective until they had left the others in the mule tour group behind and were alone.
The flight to Flagstaff was uneventful, but because of the timing, the itinerary included an overnight stay there before they drove to the South Rim of the canyon the following morning. JR and Robert decided to indulge in the spicy cuisine of the region, a fusion of Mexican and Native American that threatened to blow Robert's ears off, to JR's amusement. Washed down with a couple of margaritas and some mariachi music, the meal promised to be their last bit of fun for the next ten days.
The following morning, JR picked up their rental vehicle for their drive, while Robert did his best to recuperate from overindulging in both spicy food and cheap tequila from the night before. Next time, he'd listen to JR when he recommended a top shelf margarita instead of the standard one.
Chapter 11 - To the canyon
JR was disgusted that he hadn't thought this mule expedition thing through. He could only imagine what he looked like on the back of his long-suffering steed, with his legs canted out at an odd angle due to the fact that there wasn't a single saddle available with a long enough drop to the stirrups to accommodate his leg length. At 6'10", JR's was in the ninety-nine point ninth percentile. He should have been used to nothing fitting him, but he just hadn't thought about what it would mean on the back of a mule.
What he needed was a Percheron, or some other really tall horse. Of course, a saddle for it with extra-long stirrup straps would be nice, but at least his knees wouldn’t be jutting out. Looking over the side of the narrow trail, just wide enough for his mule without his knees sticking out sideways, JR figured there wasn't a horse in the world stupid enough to take that trail. Even the mule had to have blinders on, which may have been the reason it kept scraping JR against the cliff that rose from the other side of the trail.
They should have hiked it. If he'd had any foresight, he'd have volunteered to walk in front of his beast, instead of perching comically on its back. The poor mule was already taxed, as JR, though fit and slender, weighed in at two-hundred and thirty-four pounds. It probably would have appreciated the break.
JR looked over his shoulder at Robert, on the mule behind him. "How's it going?"
Robert wasn't a short man, though he often told JR that he felt short, standing next to his mate. Nevertheless, he cracked a grin every time JR looked back. JR would never live this down, and what was Robert doing? Was that a cell phone? He wouldn't dare take a photo...oh, man! JR turned forward again, making plans to get hold of that phone and delete every photo of himself he could find, as soon as they reached the bottom where he had some room to maneuver.
JR never thought about the time when none of this would have been a joke. That first expedition to Antarctica, when he'd met Robert and all of them almost died had both changed his life forever and saved it, ironically. Before that, anger had consumed him. He didn't even remember why he'd been angry, he just was. The war, his fiancée leaving him, leaving school. All of it and none of it. But once he learned Rebecca cared for him, it seemed to melt away. One day he was angry, and the next a little mad, until the time came that he wasn't even a little stressed, under normal circumstances.
Of course, people trying to blow him and his family up, that stressed him some. But that was all be
hind him. He was incredibly lucky to be riding this crazy mule down this crazy trail, with a crazy best friend behind him taking photos that would probably end up on Facebook, if he didn't get that phone away before Robert found some signal. When he added it all up, this was a fine day, and there was an adventure ahead. What could be better than that?
And the best part was there were no secret societies plotting against them this time. No more Orion Society with their spies in government agencies; no more Sword of Cyrus looking to end the civilized world in nuclear violence. This was going to be fun, after he got off this dratted mule and he and Robert could strike off on their own. The way he'd always wanted it, two buddies looking for archaeological mystery. The only thing better would have been if Rebecca were with them. On the other hand, there was something to be said for boys' night out. Too bad a six-pack or so wasn't in the weight budget.
***
Robert didn't know when he'd had a better chuckle. JR looked like something out of a Disney cartoon up there, swaying from side to side with the mule's gait and those legs sticking out at a crazy angle. Every now and then he yelped when his left knee made contact with the wall on that side. The bloke was going to have a sore knee, though. Robert hoped it wouldn't be bad enough to slow them down.
Aside from the amusement he took from the comical scene before him, Robert was enjoying this ride immensely for the rich geological interest. Imagine, a mile-deep canyon, cut by the Colorado River through three of the four geologic eras. The significance was staggering, and the sights enthralling. Robert had never been here before, though of course everyone in the civilized world knew of the Grand Canyon. The opportunity to do what he was doing - and get paid for it - was amazing.
If he'd had his way, he'd be taking samples from the strata as they descended. Naturally, it was forbidden. If everyone did that, the canyon would be wider than it already was within a year or two. Besides, others had already done it. He didn't need to. And if he and JR found what they hoped to, his name would be made twice over. After Paradise Valley in Antarctica, another significant find at his age would be unbelievable. Working with the Rossler Foundation had been the best decision of his life, despite the dangers he'd faced.
By the time they reached the guest ranch at the bottom, Robert was wishing he'd done a bit more conditioning on the back of an animal before taking the trip. His backside would be stiff and sore for a while, he reckoned. Unless the walking loosened him up. JR didn't look to have fared much better, as he was limping, more on the left side than the right. His knee must have really taken a beating.
After their permits were examined by rangers at the guest ranch, the two men waited until everyone was occupied with something before slipping around a corner in the canyon wall. It was part of their restrictions that they make sure no one saw them going into areas not generally open to the public. Their plan included getting far enough away from populated areas that no one could spot them making camp, before night fell on this first day. It was a tall order, since the canyon was narrow enough to block the light early in the afternoon at this time of year.
They walked for an hour, figuring that they'd made a distance as the crow flies from the ranch of about three miles despite having only a rudimentary trail. Robert figured that JR made up for obstacles with that long stride, as if he wore seven-league boots. He, on the other hand, had to scramble around or over many of them. He was ready for a break.
"How long d'you think we can keep going, mate?"
JR, several strides ahead, had to turn around and ask Robert to repeat himself. When he did, JR looked surprised. "Until full dark, right?"
Robert sighed. At this rate, full dark couldn't come fast enough for him. But, ever practical, he objected. "Better save enough light to set up a bivouac, isn’t it?"
"Oh, I guess you're right. Another half-hour, say?"
"Sounds right. Let's go, then."
By eight p.m. on Saturday evening, the two friends were sound asleep, oblivious to the spectacular night sky.
***
The upside to their early night was that both JR and Robert were wide awake by the time the sun rimmed the lip of the canyon above them with gold. They'd filled their Camelbaks with filtered water from the river the night before, so their morning routine was quick. By around six a.m., they were picking their way around dark shadows beside the river, while the sky became lighter and lighter as the sun rose higher.
The GPS device showed they were two, maybe three miles from the ranch site as the crow flew, so they talked in normal tones, though they didn't shout as sound carries far in such an environment. Their map showed they had a good ten miles to go before turning off into the side canyon where the coordinates in the Library had been plotted. If they didn't encounter any obstacles in the nature of impassable areas beside the river, a day's vigorous hiking might bring them to that point. If they had to tack away from the river to go around something big, then it depended on how quickly they could get back to the more or less direct route.
It was strange, down in this canyon, that the air wasn't colder this early in the morning. At the top, yesterday morning, it was chilly, around forty-five when they started down. The day warmed up, but now JR realized that it was also because they'd been at an altitude even higher than Boulder's at the rim, nearly 7,000 feet above sea level. Descending to the canyon floor brought them over 5,000 feet lower. No wonder. Today, it was warming rapidly. They'd planned as well as they could for the extremes of temperature, so it wasn't going to be a problem, just something to occupy his mind as he trudged along ahead of Robert.
He was dodging any vegetation that he saw in time, so as not to damage any bit of the ecosystem in which they were intruding. Putting a big hiking boot down between a tiny plant of some sort and a flat rock, he froze when the distinctive sound of a diamondback rattler started.
"Robert, stop."
"What is it?" Robert asked.
"Rattler. I'm going to let him settle down before I move. Don't come any closer."
JR strained to see the reptile, but colored as it was to blend into its desert surroundings, he couldn't spot it. Then he realized it must be under the rock. How odd. He thought they liked to sun themselves on top of rocks. A full minute passed before the snake relaxed and stopped rattling. When the sound stopped, JR snatched his foot back, the movement setting off the danger signal again.
"Guess we'd better go around that," he remarked, sounding calm though his heart was hammering in his chest. Logically, he knew that his thick leather boots would have protected him from a low strike. His nervous system wasn't having it, though. As far as his adrenaline was concerned, he'd dodged a bullet. Indeed, a snakebite out here would be something of a disaster. They had a snakebite kit, but getting back to civilization for antivenin would be tricky. JR resolved to scan further ahead from now on, though that wouldn't have helped in this case. He just hoped any other snakes out here weren't the crazy kind that hung out under rocks instead of on top of them.
When he'd retreated to Robert's position and struck out to give a wide berth to the rock, Robert remarked, "I've never seen a rattler."
"You're lucky." JR had seen plenty of the poisonous reptiles of the continent, from the cotton-mouth moccasins that he'd encountered as a boy fishing in North Carolina, to the more deadly coral snakes of Florida. Rattlers, of course, were everywhere. JR hated each and every one of them, as a species and as individuals. His heart was still racing from the harmless encounter with the diamondback.
"Well, we've got a few fairly nasty ones back home," Robert answered. "Not rattlesnakes, though. At least they warn you. Now, the death adder, he'll ambush you."
JR turned an incredulous look on his friend. "Cut it out with the snakes, man. They give me the creeps."
"Heh, just like Indiana Jones, mate?"
"Something like that," muttered JR.
It was in the afternoon of the second day that the GPS warned them the side canyon was nearby. Both men had been focused on the
ground ahead of them since the snake encounter the day before. Now they looked up, scanning the seemingly-impenetrable walls for a crack or crevice that would lead into a side canyon. When nothing presented itself as likely, they looked at each other, baffled.
It had to be around here somewhere. There was no question the GPS device was highly accurate. But in the afternoon shadows, it was possible they'd missed something. The only thing to do was to start right next to the wall and move alongside it. Surely the opening would be easy to spot that way. The men had come to one of the many spots where the bottom of the canyon on both sides of the river was only yards wide between the river and the canyon wall. If they didn't find the side canyon on this side of the river, they'd have to cross the treacherous body of water and explore the other side in the same way.
The Colorado is deceptively smooth in long stretches. Rapids ranging from Class 1 to Class 10 are spread out along the river from Lee's Ferry to the Diamond Creek take-out, some 225 miles downriver, with many existing within the Grand Canyon. In places where the river looks smooth, there are often undertows that can pull a man down and keep him down until they spit him out hundreds of yards downstream, often lifeless. It is not a river to swim across.
Chapter 12 - I'm almost certain it is
Salome was sick of the car by the time she and Roy reached the small town of Buffalo, Wyoming more than five hours after leaving Boulder at noon. Her delight at the charm of the little town nestled in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains was contagious. Even Roy looked around with pleasure. What impressed Salome the most was the green. In Boulder, even though it was late spring, snow was still likely. Salome had expected desert landscape all the way north into Wyoming and into Montana.
