<BGSOUND " LOOP="have2go.mid"INFINITE"> PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS This will be a continuing SAGA; One started in 1979 and left untouched for twenty three years. It is about two opposites; ANTIPODES. People that had opposing viewpoints, one that was conservative and one that was liberal. They are like dynamite with a burning fuze attached to their psyches. They can't live apart and sometimes have trouble living together, in fact, lost without the other. I hope that you enjoy ! The noble Eagle is a mate with one for life, and as if as they were as one; here is an idealistic man that could only love just one, and as if he was born to lose with that stinging ugly word of "divorce," and of course there is great remorse, the time has come to leave it all behind, and 'twas past for the endless weeping too, and so "vaya con dios my darlings," is felt by one man, as the merciless Sun beats down upon the ground with deep frying intensity on a cloudless day at Tacopa Hot Springs California, near the southern end of Death Valley. The spectacular beauty of the nomadic, panoramic scenery, was overshadowed by the awesome desert heat, sending shimmering heat waves to radiating across the vast desert wasteland. This scenic view extended across to the spectacular bluish tones of mountains within the distance, and lent an air of adventure within hazy hues. It was August, not a time to be adventurous within forbidden circumstance, and only the lonely experienced desert wanderers dared to challenge wits with health, endurance and possible ignorance within happenstance to natures fierce elemental transpondencies. To the normal way of logic, a venture here could be categorized as very unwise indeed. Dan Johnson is a good and faulted man that's all alone, as if not aware of great danger here. He is an unknown artist of oils and of exquisite pencil facial portrayals. As strong as an Ox, and sometimes but not always, as wise as an Owl, as he stands just east of the picturesque Owlhead mountains. He seems as just another wilted soul as the mighty weather tells it so. He is a quiet man, one with gifts instilled, and with few friends upon a planet scorned by those seemingly adorned with power. Non political, he has withdrawn away from society like some of the well known desert wanderers have done down throughout Death Valley history. He emerges from the main building that houses the men's hot springs pool. Very few health seekers seem to be in sight, and with good reason, for the temperature is in the neighborhood of one hundred and twenty degrees fahrenheit. Recently divorced, he faces a brave and forlorn new world of reality. The separation from his beloved family has torn his little world apart, and now he seems fleeing the past into the desert such as if in the same way as countless others before have done. Many of those not knowing what it was within themselves, that sent them to foreign elemental deceivements, to possibly die the agonizing thirsty death without help from close at hand. Dan did not desire to end his exhistence within this land, but seemed to be trying to reflect, to learn, to possibly seek within his very soul for relief, for he had been depressed of late, even though his life had been a curious mixture of successes and failings. He had been the eternal optimist until trouble had slowly eroded his relationship with his dear wife of so many years; the sweet Diana. She still remained a permanent hurt within his vitals," but a life must go on," he reasoned philosophically, and it shouldn't stop now when there is so much to see and do, and here is this old land, the epitome of serenity." He casually walked to his trailer home, a twenty two footer, pulled by a strong Ford three quarter ton. It was lined up with a few other RV's in a large lot for the predominately elderly health seekers. Dan did not consider himself as one of these, for he was fifty and in surprisingly good health, a reflection of a life of hard work and sensible health practices. He opened a side panel of the trailer and fired up the generator, opened the entry door and went in. After switching on the air conditioner, he sighed with perspiring relief, wiping the wetness from his brow and from around his ears. He quickly changed from swimming trunks to shorts and a blue t shirt, then sat back on the bed and began to reflect on his current involvements, starting here at the Springs, and tomorrow to travel up the road to something new. PAINTER IN THE WASTELAND 2 The famous and soothing mineral waters had helped him to relax within a new shangri-la, or so it seemed, as he slept well, a vast improvement of recent events. He had been here a week, and should be replentishing his supplies very soon. He decided to go to the local country store in the morning and buy needed food and supplies; his earthly needs had always been simple, and sometimes the bare essentials satisfied him. What a difference from that of Diana's moods, but that part of his life was over now, and at that very moment, the trailer began to rock within the hot winds coming down the canyon way. He had heard about the conditions in the valley at this time of year, but something inside of him was drawing within that direction, almost as if out of control. Funny, it seemed, now there was no one else to consider within his decisions. He suddenly seemed gidily free, as if a very heavy load was lifted from his artists heart. His children were grown and settled within their own worlds, and Dan was very proud of them, even though they had sided with their mother within understandable maternal ways, it was for sure that she was very kind and acquiesent unto their needs. Of course he was still hurting deep inside, because of his own seemingly indifference's unto the children when they were young and some. "If only he had been more attentive to their needs and loving, it might have been different," he soliloquized? With these insightful thoughts within his mind, he drifted off to sleep, to dream on of far off places, and of other times, then of enchanting images of Death Valley itself. When he awoke, the day had passed away and the night was fast approaching. He felt a need to walk across the desert at a time of enchantment. Arising, he stretched his full six foot four length to the full degree, prepared a quick meal, and then left his environs to stroll into the evening upon a journey along a mystic trail towards the upper hot springs where he had languished the day before. He followed the winding trail, meandering through the sage to the top of a small hill, where bubbling hot mineral waters pulsated from the ground. It was dark now and the stars were out in a clear sky. He thought of younger days and his heart yearned at the recollections of old romances. The full Moon had arisen over the eastern range, and memories continued to flow within his brain. Why he still dwelled upon the fragrant past was a mystery to him, but even so he knew the past was dead and gone, but even though he lingered upon some treasured thoughts that he shared with no one but himself, it seemed no harm. "San Antone, Riverside, Takoma Park" he muttered aloud as a tear brushed his weathered cheek, bringing with it a sense of shame for exhibiting what some might consider weakness. The smell of sage was intoxicating to his nostrils and they flared as he breathed deeply of the pristeen heated air. Returning along the path, he entered the trailer and went to sleep again, with the pain of past but all but forgotten now, as he entered the sweet wilderness of dreams. Morning came and he bought goods from the store over by the springs, and now he was driving along shifting gears and enjoying the sights and sounds within the boundaries of an air conditioned cab of a pickup truck that pulled his trailer. He had supplied himself with enough food and water to last a week, even though he realized there was plenty of civilization at Stovepipe Wells and at Furnace Creek. His trusty pickup truck had twin gas tanks installed, and they were brimming with fuel. The exotic beauty of this strange environment seemed to lift his spirits to new highs and he was inspired to mutter, " where have I been all my life?' ALL ALONE AND WITHOUT THE WARMTH OF FAMILY, was Dan PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 3 Dan had travelled down the narrow road about twenty miles into the western end of the mighty Death Valley, and yes he seemed within a boyhood dream as he listened to the radio's music transmitted from a small station over in Tonopah Nevada. He recalled the tiny town with pleasant recollections, for it was there on one of the family sojourns, that he had found the treasures of the volcanic earth, and brought home the Agate stone, Palmwood, Jasper and assorted things that only nature lovers can adore. Why he even had some of these very stones stored away within the trailer. Rounding a corner of sheer fragmented limestone, he slowed the truck and pulled over to the side of the road to enjoy the silence of the wilderness. It was in 1849 and across this white stained plain that the Jayhawkers had walked within the summer heat, for deliverance and carrying beef jerky from slaughtered Oxen to feed their weary souls. They had endured and found help and Mexican ranches across the mountains toward the western sky. He could almost envision them now within his vivid imagination. A furnace of hot air greeted him as he exited the cab, but he was used to this by now within this portion of the Mojave Desert, but had not experienced it to this degree. He brought out his canteen and sipped at it while looking across towards the Owlhead mountains within the distance, heat waves undulating as within sweet music so. He thought for a moment that he saw movement there, something tiny and obscure had caught his attention. His powerful binoculars were soon within his calloused hands, and he peered blinking through the rivulets of sweat that now engulfed his face. Focusing, and now he knew what he saw was real. A Santa Claus came into view walking beside his loaded Burrow, with a pick and shovel protruding from the sacks and such along the flanks of his trusty servant. Although this apparation seemed unreal or so it seemed, he knew this was not a dream, as figured there was about three miles between in no mans land. Of course it wasn't really Santa, but he sure enough appeared to look like he, and he was strong with the stride and gate of the young. Dan needed to see this guy up close, and so he stayed there sipping cold water so until they arrived within the wilting heat. How could the old man survive way out here and only walking so, he didn't know? But here he was crossing now the road where a meeting would occur and very soon. The old Desert Rat was smiling now and holding out his great big hand in greeting, his pure white beard hanging low across his verile chest. They hitched the old burrow to the front bumper, and Dan invited him in to the trailer after he had started the compressor and hit the switch to feel the sweet air as if from the lofty heights of Mount McKinley so. And of course, they became steadfast friends, two people from different worlds with something in common. The old man of 75 reminded him of his father with his wrinkled and weathered eyes, and also the kindness he saw within the mirrors of his soul. Like unto the Eagle: One woman for life had been his ways within a troubled world, and it was told, that his entire family had been swept away and lost within a Missouri Tornado, and oh he had seemed to die inside, and that was why he was here alone and braving the elements. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 4 Gerald Moe was the name of the amazing patriarch, and they talked long into the day before the old man said that he had to go, and so Dan waved goodbye and knew that they would meet again along the way. He had graciously refused Dan's offer to take them back to the springs, and so the old man and his burro followed the road on the way to Takopa Hot Springs, for to him it was the "fountain of eternal youth," it seemed. As Dan drove north, he contemplated what he had learned from the old man. Moe had been drawn to the lonely tranquility by some unknown force, almost as Dan had felt. He had spent time in the Amagossa range, the beautiful Panamints, the famous Funeral mountains and some time at Grapevine canyon with the old salt; Death Valley Scotty. Of course Randsburg with it's historic gold had been his home at some time, and he knew the hills and valleys well, and knew how to survive within this wilderness of chance and of happenstance. He suddenly had an inspiration to paint on canvass; the old man and his burro. He had about 50 canvasses with many assorted brushes. Lot's of oil paint and turpentine with vast amounts of linseed oil. "One of these days, I'm going to do the portrait," he thought as he wheeled around a bend in the road, to see the watery white basalt sink called, "Badwater" there. The lowest spot within the continental United States it was. An old sign read, "poison." Do not drink the water here ! It was so beautiful here as he envisioned his exotic whereabouts. The surrounding hills were glinted with awesome colors of pink, violet, white and off yellows against a backdrop of whitish brimstone scape. A little further along the way, the Painters Pallet showed it's ethereal colors, and of course he paused to photograph it in 35 mm. Dan was also an accomplished sculptor, and his enigmatic mind was working feverishly with creative thought processes. What inspiration here as he drove through the beautiful sand dunes. It was then he saw two sand buggies with tall flags appear over a dune or two, spewing sand across the sandy land. Except for the Park Ranger that had passed his rig back at Badwater, these were the first vehicles that he had seen. Stovepipe Wells appeared ahead; some hotels, a golfcourse, the store and a gas station was all it seemed. But it was like an Oasis there where few dwelled at this time of year, because of fear. Dan had read a book about the lost forty niners, and he recalled that some of them that perished of thirst had passed this very place of pure waters without knowing it was so close at hand. "Stovepipe Wells," he mused, wow ! The evening came, the great sun had gone behind the western range and a cooling breeze brought a change in comfort. He found an empty campground, available for free called, "Texas Campground," and so he found a spot to park the rig for the night. He had read somewhere, that this very campground was usually crowded within the Fall, Spring and Winter months, and what a paradox it was at a time like this? Tomorrow he would visit the famous castle, that the industrialist; Walter Johnson had built for his friend and partner, mister Walter Scott; Death Valley Scotty. He had heard a lot about the place and he longed to experience a tour of the property, that was controlled by the State of California. Dan ate his dinner late, as he heard the mournful howls of many Coyotes back within the canyons of the night. He knew they were harmless to him, and of course there were Bears and Cougars too that roamed far and wide at night. He pulled his Ruger 357 from the drawer and spun the cylinder. It was clean and shiny blue, and he knew he had a lot of firepower if he needed it. He also had an 8 shot 12 guage shortened shotgun along, and it even made him feel more secure at a lonely time like this. He read a chapter within the book; one of those westerns by a mister Max Brand, and then he said his prayers and went to bed. It was then the aweful wind with blowing sand began to rock the trailer so, but he slept soundly even though. Morning came, and he was up and starting a campfire from the wood that lay scattered around the deserted campground. Things seemed to be going fine and he longed to paint or draw, for he was possessed with creativities that could not be surpressed for long. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 5 The fragrant aroma of coffee sent a feeling of being home to the man without a compass of direction, for his was an adventure without a plan, and he seemed to like it that way. He kept the fire burning for about two hours after a breakfast of fried eggs, toast and cereal, then he arose to walk around the campground. The land was set against the slight incline of a hill with a spectacular view of that part of Death Valley. He again thought of the poor forty niners with so much cold pure water coming from artesian springs up grapevine canyon, and of how they had to leave because they were running out of food in summertime. Slaughtered Oxen became strips of jerky upon their backs, some walked towards the southern end of the valley, while some of the others took unknown western canyon routes towards their own terminations. To become lost, disoriented and to finally die of thirst, for their cause seemed just a curse. It was most beautiful here and the tragic history made it all so real, for the name of death was it's title long before shells of campers and motorhomes came to dwell. From his viewpoint at the top of the hill, he could see other campgrounds with a very few motorhomes and fifth wheels parked, the morning sun glinted sparklingly against their shiny paint and window panes. Dan had read everything the writer Zan Grey had to say within western novels, and much of these were about this very place. Louis L'amour had been here many times within the confines of his huge fifth wheel enclosure, gathering materiel for his novels. Death Valley was magnificent, and it lived up to what was expected, as each gazed at different times from within and as seen above from lofty heights. He enjoyed the day and taking a walking tour up some of the canyons and to gazing from tops of colorful hills, and of course it was hot again, almost as it 'twas a place of sin. Then came the opaque of night within the confines of his air conditioned trailer, he settled within a strange contentment, mixed with a more tolerable loneliness. Again the Coyotes howled, and he thought he heard the scream from a Cougar, or might it be something else? When morning came, Dan plugged the eight track cassette into his stereo system, and was lulled by the sweet strains of, "Vaya Con Dios," compliments of Les Paul and Mary Ford, it had been his most favorite song when he was first in love back in teenage years. There was a significance to the tune that touched his soul, and brought a recall of memories of long ago. He sang the words, and he knew that it sounded right and well. Later in the morning, he headed with the truck towards Scotty's Castle. What a place appeared as if from within a dream. It was palatial but simple too, and a sudden surprise among the hills and walls of rock and dust of a canyon so. It was then he noticed within his rear view mirrors a ranger truck with a red light disturbing his little world. He pulled over and waited for what the tall one had to say? The ranger was a large John Wayne type, and he swaggered up to the window with a friendly greeting. He said, "I don't see many city folks up here at this time of year, and I want you to know that you are welcome here Pilgrim." Dan relaxed and returned the friendly banter, but still wondering why he had been singled out for the encounter? The big ranger continued, "please don't wander off the highways that we patrol, for it is very dangerous here within the summer months." Dan shared his name with Monte, and then he drove on over into the parking lot of Scotty's Magnificent Castle. There were a few other visitors seen within small groups, being given tours, and so he registered within the entrance. A wizened old desert fox, told him to wait until some more arrived, and then he would be led through the place. After a time, a young married couple came through the doors and the old western coot took them on the tour. Built in the early twenties, designed by a great architect from the east, the workers were imported; "craftsmen indeed they were." Most of the building materiels were hauled in by truck along some almost impassible obstacles, long before the asphalt highways crisscrossed the basalt. The place even had a great Pipe Organ installed and a bell within a tower so. The famous Walter Scott was buried by his request upon a hill behind the estate. He toured the grave, and of course his 35 mm Nikon camera was used extensively. Scotty died in 1954, the very year Dan had graduated from high school. He sololiquized, "I was reborn at the time and he was torn assunder from this life of pain and woe and of great serenity. Walter Scott left a thoughtful epitaph upon his tombstone; "don't explain, don't complain." "What wise words, so few but yet so insightful," he mused as he gazed afar upon the lonely hill of tomb. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 6 "the devilwinds" Dan had read about the terrible Devil Winds in many western books of lore. When considering the aweful heat; it was not the only danger within a place such as this. Sojourners out in the open and not prepared for the choking dust and sand could be axphyxiated within it's terrifying grip. So it was no surprise when winds came at last, and not just the ordinary breath of sand and dust that he had already experienced. The Devil Winds were moving across the valley, bringing despair, turning RV's over on their sides, and taking off the hide where skin was exposed. This was happening now, and Dan moved the trailer over behind a boulder to protect it from the elements. Of course he left the truck there too, deciding to wait out the storm within the confines of his new home. The shrieking winds came turning day to night, why you couldn't breathe unless you placed a moistened rag over the nose, to filter out the finest grain of sand and choking dust. The trailer now was rocking to and fro, and Dan was frightened like one is when he experiences a great earthquake. Just then he heard a ripping sound, and he knew that one of the access covers on the roof had been torn away, and never to be found again except by chance. He just couldn't go to sleep that night, the fear of a trailer rolled over was upon his mind, and so when the morning came, as if by magic, the elements returned to normal and as still as the silence of the lambs. This was probably the eye of the storm and the winds would probably return again with all the force of many locomotives rushing down the track. Against good reasoning, Dan went outside after breakfast, and walked up a small canyon where he had walked the day before. The temperature now was cool, and there was not a wisp of dust seen upon the horizons. Quite a change for this time of year, it would appear. After about two hours of wandering around about a mile from the campground, Dan started back where he belonged according to good logic. Where there was blue skies before, now black and grey clouds appeared as if in gloom, he saw dust devils all across the vast expanse of a valley of despair. He began to run, and that's when he was hit as with sledge hammer blows of wind with sand, with no more progress against the grain of the stinging thing. Now again it's black as night and he knew that he would never make it back until this thing called the Devils Wind would cease and desist. He took off his shirt and dove behind a boulder so, wet it with his canteen and put it to his face. He was choking now, but at least he could breathe a bit by sucking within a staccato rhyth. It was a darkened plague; the howling, stinging thing, a torment meant only for demented criminals, but nought for one's such as he. To make it even worse, the heat had returned with the stinging clouds of dust and sand. Now he didn't know what was north, south, east or west was. He crawled around grasping the cloth to his face, still sucking air, and that's when he found an opening within a wall of solid rock on the side of the canyon. What relief it was to be inside listening to the screaming banshee thing outside. Of course all was black within this world of cave, and then he felt a chill as he thought of Rattlesnakes and of Centipedes or even Scorpions, for this was their logical environs. With even these fears, Dan went to sleep and awoke so many hours after the terrifying ordeal of wind and sand. The opening to the cave was bright with daylight now, and so he crawled outside. It was so beautiful now, except it was hot as hell, and he wiped away the accumulation of muddy sweat from one lucky face indeed. Dan was fortunate that he had found the cave, for the canteen was not full at all like he thought it was, and he shuddered as he considered what might have been? Life is a learning thing, and sometimes we feel that we know the best. How wrong he had been to not feel the danger after the eye of the storm had passed, and he knew that he had learned a great lesson indeed. His thoughts went back to the cave, and he pondered what treasures might be hidden inside, and did he dare to return inside at another time to seek and find? PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 7 dan meets a son of the devil Along a great river just southwest of Sacremento, Juan Carlos; the "COYOTE," had been doing his time behind the archaeic iron bars at Folsom prison. He wasn't released early for good behavior, but he had spent twenty years, and now triumphantly passing through the gates ajar. His burning, shifty brown eyes looks south east within a longing direction. He is pudgy short and broad of beam, the round head is shaved with white glistening skin glimmering within reflections from the noonday sun. Odly enough, this slob of a man is powerfully built from the daily workouts within the gym inside. His face is somewhat handsome still with a pencil thin black mustache above a pointed speckled black and grey goatee, much like the old Devil might appear without his horns. The Coyote is forty five and still alive and free, even though he had raped and murdered more than one, he had only been convicted for a bank robbery in L.A. more than twenty years before while riding with the infamous Hells Angels group. He is so very proud of his history within the prison system, and he knows that he was one of the few within that ruled with subterfuge and stealth. Now he would have to find others outside to dominate and to abuse. Before his time within the Hells Angels group, he had been in another dirty business; that of bringing undocumented illegal aliens across the border near San Luis and Yuma, a terrible place to leave bewildered women, men and children in the summer months, to fend for themselves after he robbed them, and raped whomever he chose at the point of a gun. Always with evil bent, he hadn't changed one iota, if anything, the time with his prisoner peers had only added more cunning to his repertoir of demented thinking ways. Earlier he had telephoned for a taxi, and he saw it there beside the curb waiting. Destination; downtown Sacramento, where he planned to booze and to use a prostitute or two, before he would rest and plan his next move within the state of California. He was supposed to report to a counselor within a week of his release, but he planned to run, maybe go to Mexico and get lost. But of course, he needed money, and he knew where to get it; he had a stash hidden and all but forgotten by the law. It was ill gotten gain, about $50,000 dollars from his "coyote days." "How things had changed," he thought when the cab arrived in town, more high rises now, and the city was a puzzle of busineses stretching in all directions. All classes of people walking to and fro, an occasional wino lying by the curbs. He told the cabbie to drop him off in the part of town where the bars and theatres were, and so he walked the sidewalks looking for a place to stay within the worst part of town. Meanwhile, back at Death Valley, Dan had his easle out and he was painting a new piece of art; he was stroking, deftly touching with the brush and bringing to life something creatively new within a world as old as stone. It was terribly hot as usual, but it was as if he didn't care, as he sipped ice cold water so. It was fun to create when you could do it right, and so he spent the hours of enlightenment, so heavensent, as from within a poets soul. Monsters and Ghouls were far from his mind, but alas, the world is not a perfect place and nothing is forever and life is not sure, you just take one day at a time and hope the wisdom you have gained will help you make the choices that are right. Good and Evil were about to meet, and what would be the result? Only GOD would know, for he perceives what is within our hearts and of our destiny. The painter in the desert wasn't perfect, in fact quite imperfect, but he tried to do what was right, and is there still one glimmer of goodness within the worst of us, and only time can tell? Two days and nights have evaporated since the prisoners release, he has debauched, in fact has beaten and sodomized a woman of scorn, for he is evil personnified and is planning, fantacizing, and acting out his inner perverted self within dark indulgences. Finally, it's that time for travel and he has the money from the safety deposit box at the bank that's been secure for all so many years. He now rides a big new Harley Davidson motorcycle, and ready to take a tour to Death Valley, just a stop on the way to Mexico, where he and his buddies of old used to gather unto one accord within acts of eternal mischief. The ex-con doesn't seem to know that there are helmet laws now, and so he roars down the freeways with gleaming crown, and he's pulled over and ticketed, a good thing for him that he had obtained a California drivers license while in prison. Then he cranks the new machine within a throaty roar as if to hell itself; this outrageous monster of the highways. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 8 One evil man had bought a brand spanking new 9 mm Browning Automatic pistol with a 12 shot clip ready for any eventuality. All the ammo was of the hollow point design and could cause catastrophic damage to the flesh of an opponent. It was secured to the frame beneath the right exhaust pipe. Of course all Ex Cons are strictly forbidden to own or use a gun for many years, and even then would not be able to obtain a permit to own or carry one. The tachometer was spinning fast and the miles were passing as this man contemplated a new life on the run. There was plenty of money if he would but use it sensibly, but he knew when he was drunk, it could fly away so easily. The painter of the wastelands woke up the following morning, to see a small tent pitched at the bottom of the hill, and nearby, a gleaming motorcycle with a big "V" type engine; signifying Harley Davidson. He wondered who this fellow might be, or were there two within the little tent? Dan decided not to approach whomever it was, for he was a very private person, and of course he would be helpful if anyone needed help in any way. The day droned on monotonously, and he could see the neighbor moving about the camp. Dan sensed that there was something wrong with the mans demeanor. He looked like the prison type that had been portrayed in movies. Tough and mean and verile strong, as if this man had lilfted weights all his life. H e could be extremely dangerous he guessed. Later on, Dan decided to walk up the canyon to the cave and explore a bit, and so he brought a flashlight along and his Ruger 357 just in case a Rattlesnake came into view. He had quite a time finding the small entrance to the cave, and it seemed harder to find as he paced back and forth, and finally almost stumbling over a bush to see it. Dan didn't know that a sinister presence was following him, and if he had been suspicious he would have seen the neighbor back a ways, watching and pondering what he was up to? The opening was only about four feet tall by five, and he had to crawl as he had before when the Devil Winds had almost claimed him forevermore into eternal rest. It was rough going and his flashlight made the tunnel as bright as day, with long shadows playing on the irregular walls. It was about fifty feet from the entrance when he saw it coiled and ready; the largest Rattlesnake that he had ever seen, as it started to shake it's bony rattles so. There must have been fifteen sections to the wildly vibrating end of tail, as he watched it as if almost hypnotized. A Diamondback it was, and so he drew his mighty pistol so, and remembered that he had two ears that should be plugged, or his eardrums might be punctured from the roar. He withdrew some kleenex from his back pocket, made two small wads, placed some of his saliva on them, then placed them in his ears, all the while the snake kept it's stand, and waiting to strike. He aimed his 357 at the triangular head with beady eyes, his flashlight on the ground lighting the chamber. BAROOM !! The snake still coiled, the rattles rattling, but for sure the head was gone, and he relaxed and looked back towards the opening. He could see the silhouette of two legs in front of the entrance, and a chill went through him as he realized whom it probably was; the stranger down the hill. Should he come out and meet the man, and why not, he was just probably wondering why he had heard the gun go off. But better sense prevailed, for he knew that this was a very private place with no wittnesses indeed. He was right, for a Serial Killer waited there, just pondering what he should do? Should he stay or just walk away, or should he empty his gun into the cave for fun? He felt an old and familiar thrill pervade his lungs, and so he raised his Automatic and fired it 12 times into the tunnel, knowing that some of the rounds would find their target. And if not, he would just get the hell out of there on his way to Mexico. Suddenly the cavern was filled with mighty blasts, the flash of gun easily seen within the entrance smoke. Small and large rock chips were flying and stinging. Dan felt sudden pain within his shoulder and then his chest just above the heart. His thoughts of, "how could this happen to me, I haven't hurt anyone?" Thoughts that were lost within darkness keep. As if within a coma, he dreamed phantom dreams; terrifying ordeals of pain and doubt. he saw the faces of his loved ones more clearly that he had ever thought or dreamed before. He awoke to terrible throbbing pain within his chest and shoulder. He was weak from loss of blood, but the flows had seemed to clot and stop, and most of all; he was alive, but barely so. The flashlight still lay shattered by a hollow point bullet, and so he didn't know what time it was, except to realize that it was night, and he couldn't see the light of the entrance. What should he do, for he was more than a mile away from the trailer at Texas Campground? PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 9 The "Coyote" packed the tent and his few possessions behind the seat of the majestic motorcycle, gave it a kick and the engine roared to life, and he tooled on down the road towards Takopa Hot Springs. He felt the old thrill again of doing something wrong, and he guessed that he had probably killed a half dozen people in his time, before being sent to prison. Moe and his burro; Mable was coming back along the road with new supplies. He had spent a few days soaking his old body at the springs, and now feeling mighty spry. Maybe he would come across his new friend, mister Dan at some place along the way. Walking felt good, and he counted the steps staccatto like along the way, his military like boots lightly falling, and Mable following so dutifully behind the Master. About an hour went by before he heard the feint motorcycle sounds coming from way around the bend of the road. Of course Moe and his burro stepped aside to not be in the way as someone came their way, not being aware of great evil approaching. Juan Carlos; the "Coyote," came around the bend enjoying the view, and then he saw them beside the road ahead, he slowed and pulled up to the old desert rat, and said, "hello" to mister Moe. Of course Moe was wary, for he had lived for seventy five years only because of wisdom so, but he was friendly to the unknown man astride his bike. The old thrill was coming back, as Juan reached for his newly loaded weapon, but the old man was quicker as he grabbed his 12 guage Shotgun from the pack on Mable and wheeled and pulled the trigger so. Now the Coyote's head was gone as if a sword had done the job, and his red bloodied hulk sank to the pavement from off the Harley. "What a mess," mused the old man, and I wonder why he wanted to rob or kill me, for I don't have much of this worlds goods? The man with mule let the body lay right where it fell, he didn't touch or move it, for there would be an investigation for sure, and so they continued on their journey up the way towards Stovepipe Wells. Well by this time, Dan had emerged from his tomb crawling, and he found that he was too weak to stand, and so he continued slowly on his hands and knees, the excruciating pain making it difficult to move as such. "I'll never make it," he reasoned within his heart, but he would keep trying, for he had always been a man that would not give up. About ten more miles to civilization for Moe and his burro, and they were making good time, when a Ranger truck passed, stopped beyond and turning back to stop beside them. It was not the same man that Dan had met, but he was the answer, as Moe told him of what had happened. The ranger got on his two way radio and called for backup to investigate the scene about five miles down south upon the road. They got Mable lifted up within the truck along with Moe, and he drove them on over to Stovepipe Wells, leaving them within quick walking distance of the place Dan had said he would camp; Texas Campground. Night was falling, Dan could go no more, and so he just went to sleep along the trail with about three quarters of a mile to go. The hours went by, and he was awakened by a gentle nudge coming from the nose of Mable. Mister Moe had arrived to save the day, or should we say the night? Not finding his new friend at the campground, he had followed the footprints while it was still a little light, and found the man that had almost died within the cave. "Thank you friend," he said so weakly. Moe said, "I knew something was wrong after I killed someone along the road who was pulling a gun on me, and I'm so glad that I found you alive, before the morning came, and we might be in mourning. He carried Dan on the back of Mable all the way back to camp, and after putting him to bed in the trailer, he walked back to town to report the crime. It wasn't long until the sheriffs helicopter was setting down beside the trailer, and he was transported to the Ridgcrest hospital that was way over the mountains to the west. He was well received, but he needed a transfusion to bring him back to where he could recover. Dan loved the touch of that woman thing, for a good nurse had magic within her hands of healing, and it wasn't long until he was back at the camp. "I think I need a dog," he thought, "something to keep him company, and loves me, so why didn't I consider this before?" PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 10 Dan was feeling quite well, even though there was some pain and stiffness within his chest and shoulder too, and he was lucky that the two hollow point bullets had entered where there were no internal organs to decimate. The chest wound was not deep for it was a glancing shot, but the one in the arm had nicked the bone and taken a lot of flesh away. He also drew a quick draw image; a face of the "Coyote," as he had perceived from a distance, something about his features were disturbing the say the least. There was ugliness, cruelty and artful handsomness too portrayed. He pondered long within questions of what made a man so cruel and mean? It was wonderful to be alive and back within the security of the trailer, the air conditioning system, erasing the unendurable heat that had made life miserable at times. He thought, "I guess that I shall never learn enough;" he was reminiscing about an adventure that he had more than thirty years before, when he was a teenager. He had driven off a hairpin curve of a mountain highway at midnight between Farmington, New Mexico and Durango, Colorado. Five of them were within the car; a girl and four boys, and all had survived as within a miracle. In most circumstances, they would have hit a boulder and rolled down the forty five degree slope. Of course at that time there were no seatbelts, and they would surely have been thrown out of the car and the Chevy probably would have rolled upon them. All now was well, but there was still a gnawing feeling of loneliness, and he knew that it wasn't natural for a man to live alone. He needed people to share his thoughts and someone to walk the trails and fix his meals, someone to keep him warm within the chill of a wintry night? Something about Dan was different than most other men; he was terribly selective and idealistic, even to the degree of wanting more than he deserved. When single, he had always looked for both outward beauty and inner too, something almost impossible to find. His wife; Diana and he were complete opposites, she had been raised as very liberal and he as ultra conservative. He had always been like a cold and elusive statue to his children, just like his parents seemed to him. But behind the fake facade, he loved them dearly. On the other hand, Diana had been their confidant and friend, and she didn't seem to know how to say, "no" to them, even at times when it would have been wise and prudent to do so. Oh how he would love to be holding Diana within his strong arms again, but alas he had said unforgivable things to her, and he couldn't see how she could ever forgive him and take him back? Why, she didn't even know where he had gone, for it was a secret well kept from his family. His former wife was very beautiful and kind, and he knew that the hounds would be on her trail. "Oh I hope she uses her head and doesn't get into trouble," he mused with deep regrets. He peered down the hill of the campground, almost expecting to see that Harley Davidson again, but now he only saw the motorhome; a big expensive rig parked at almost the very place of the biker. "That's odd," he thought, as he knew the odds of something like that were infintesimal. Now Dan was a natural man, and of course he noticed the woman descending the automatic stair. She seemed to be there all by herself, and he found himself hoping that this was true. "I'm a silly man," he thought. She was a golden blonde with a fabulous figure and tall, about five foot six. From the distance between, he couldn't tell much about her face, and so he took a book out and proceeded reading the "Good Earth," He loved good books by famous authors; one's like Clive Kustler and his wonderful works of adventure and intrigue. His chain of thought was intgerupted with a knock at his door, and he was startled and hesitant to open it. He heard a musical womans voice call out, "anyone home?" Of course he jumped up to respond, to find the sweetest, most pretty smiling face. "Could I borrow some coffee please and some sugar too," and Dan introduced himself with, "of course and yes." Her name was Susanna and from Bevery Hills, and she had just bought her first motorhome. Dan had plenty of coffee and sugar, and so he gave her some of both. She said, "thankyou and goodbye for now," and walked with a wonderful rhyming gait down the hill. He was thrilled by her friendliness and wondered what a girl like this was doing at a place like this within the summer? He guessed her age at thirty more or less, and he found himself thinking about this strange turn of events. "How odd the way things were shaping up within his little world," he spoke within whisper. The next day found Dan painting again; this was his second canvass, the first was almost dry, but he didn't have any frames on board. Maybe a trip to Las Vegas would be the order of his next sojourn? This time he was facing the canyon of his miss-adventure, for he needed to capture the mood and the color there, and he was not aware of another presence behind for quite some time. When he smelled sweet perfume, he turned to see her lovely form, now wearing shorts. And of course he noticed her long shapely legs, tiny waist and perfect chest. But he acted like he hadn't noticed her everloving charms, and said, "it's nice to see you again." She replied, "I'm an artist too, and I had to come and see your work, it looks so rich with color? "Susanna, you are kind," he said, as he showed his meekness, even though he knew he was good with the brush, chisel or the pencil. That night he dreamed of dear Diana, somewhere over there beyond the horizon, and within this dream he knew that he could never ever love another, and when he awoke he couldn't keep his mind off of the one he would love forever. Even pretty sexy blondes couldn't cloud his mind, when he knew that he had been with the "BEST." All Rights Reserved Walt Christian Larsen PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 11 Dan was surprised when the blonde asked him over to watch a new thing called; satellite tv, and so he went down the hill being somewhat confused. Even though he felt excitement mixed with a little lust, there was dread too, for he didn't feel that he was ready for anything intimate with someone he hardly knew within the darkened night, but he didn't seem to know how to say, "no." Of all things, they watched "Bonanza," with little Joe, Hoss, Adam and the father, Ben. He had always liked western family shows like this, and after the unforgettable ending, they watched the news and sports awhile. She offered him a beer, and he said, "I don't drink alcohol," and so she brought him an orange soda. And after awhile she said, "I want you to see the mirror that I had installed the other day; it's just down the hall." He felt his heart skip a beat, and he felt like a mild mannered fool as she took his hand and led him past the kitchenette and to a door with a full length mirror installed. Well, she told him to sit on the edge of the bed, then closed the door with them both inside, the mirror just a few feet from his shoes. He looked at himself within reflection and did some insightful introspection. He saw a still handsome lonely man looking back at him with some trepidation within squinted turquoise eyes, and then she came closer and wrapped her arms around his neck, then climbed upon his lap to start kissing him furiously.Well now, he felt passion arising and this was romantic and exciting too, and Dan was a natural man and of course his animal nature wanted more and he knew that he could have her now if he would? Reason took hold of one faulted man as he recalled that he was a moral one and still had the grasp on wisdom too, and he knew he still loved his ex-wife with all his heart. and didn't have the will proceed within illicit and wanton pleasure. He heard himself explain, "I've got to go, it's getting late and sorry I can't go along with this, and you are very beautiful and sweet, and thank you for asking me over." She slid off of his lap immediately as if she had been slapped across the face, for she had been disgraced, and this had never happened to her before like this. He now saw the beginnings of a tinge of teary hate glistening within her dark blue eyes, as he said, "goodnight." Dan went to bed alone within his little trailer home, and he pondered why that he had resisted somethin so desireable and something that no-one but he, she and GOD alone could ever know of? Other worldly men would never understand and would call him crazy or insane for missing out on this great erotic adventure, but still he knew that he had done what was morally right within all his might. Poor Dan was a missunderstood man, a faulted one, but also a very idealisticly realistic rascal. When morning came, the big motorhome with the girl was gone. He felt bad, like he had been cruel to someone nice. He pondered of where and of what time she had left the campground? Much later Dan picked up a Ridcrest newspaper over at Stovepipe Wells, and he read of the death of the Coyote by the hand of an old desert prospector. They called it self defense, and Dan knew that they had called it right, for mister Gerald Moe was his benefactor of life and not of death.. The head and body would be cremated over at Barstow at a mortuary there. Some how he felt bad for the criminal even though he had been such a satanic beast, for life was precious for this artistic man whom was still around, and the Coyote could never ever rectify his terrible sins before GOD himself, because it was too late. "Too late," he mused, "and I hope it's not too late for me?" Sometimes late at night he would awaken with the memories of the recent exciting events and ponder what made him tick, and where was all this leading? Diana Lee Janson had not remarried since the divorce and she had dated a few fellows that she knew from work, but she never become intimate with any of them nor felt that magic that she had experienced with her former husband; the father of her dear children. She had become so glum and lonely too, but she didn't know where within this great big world that he had gone. She had asked her children and they didn't know. She phoned his few friends, and they knew nothing, and so she had hired a professional detective to unearth this mystery. She knew that the "big lug" loved the desert, and that would be a start, and she thought of Arizona, for he had spoken longingly of the Tucson area. She couldn't understand how he could have just disappeared without a trace, for he wasn't yet the age for retirement, he had just quit his job, withdrawn his 401K and left. And then her detective had told her of the newspaper clipping with the name of Dan Janson; one whom had survived an attempted killing at Death Valley, by the one called; "Coyote." She wondered if this was the same Dan that she still loved so deeply? She had to find out, and so this woman drove down highway 58 towards the town of Barstow. By this time she was frantic, and was not prepared to face the dangers that Death Valley contained within it's eternal mystical serenity, and if found, would he be alone or with someone new? PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 12 Dan drove to the campground; and surprise of surprises, for the same motorhome was back. A pang travelled up and down his spine and to settle within his stomache, and what was going on, and had the blonde reconsidered what she had decided? Maybe she had learned of some respect for a man with mysterious ideals? Whatever, it wouldn't change a thing if he could help it, or could it now? It was now about one oclock in the afternoon when Dan walked out of his trailer with an easel and porta chair, paints, turpentine and brushes, and he trudged up the canyon to the very spot of his great ordeal. He needed to record in oils the colors and memories here. He didn't enter the cavern, for it almost seemed a grave to him, and so he set up shop a hundred feet from the small black entryway. He had worked about an hour before he became aware of another presence there, and he smelled that old familiar scent of perfume again. He spun around to face her pleasing face. The blonde looked embarrased to be discovered like a spying entity. "Hey, what happened to you," questioned Dan, "and you must have gone on home, for you've been gone so long?" Her face was still ruddy pink, as she admitted that she had indeed gone on home to Beverly Hills and spent some time at her Art Gallery, co-owned by her father, and that she had a lot of her work upon the walls; some of which would be sold for thousands to the exclusive clientelle along the Miracle Mile of Wilshire Boulevard. She sat down upon a boulder beside the man, and he went back to work with a little chatter between them from time to time. They exchanged their histories, and he learned that she was a divorcee from an actor, whom had then committed suicide two years before. Dan recognized his name, even though he had not made it as an established star. " So very sad that fame and fortune were not guarantees for happiness at all," he contemplated. She said, "Dan, you are a very unusual kind of man, I didn't think that there were any left within this great big world?" He looked off into the distance as he replied, "I've got a broken heart that needs repair, and so that is probably why I'm so different from so many others of my kind, but make no mistake, I am a real man, and I do hope you can understand?" She smiled coyly and said nothing, her mind travelling within feminine wiles. She helped him carry the things he had brought there, back along the trail. "It was nice to have some company, even though they were certainly not lovers," he contemplated. They were just entering Texas Spring Campground when he spied a familiar car; the big black Lincoln Towncar owned by the beautiful Diana. He was giddy with excitement, and paradoxically stunned with remorse all at the same time, as he knew that she would never ever understand what she was seeing coming down the trail; her onetime man and a beautiful and shapely blonde woman, walking side by side. The big black car roared to life, the wheels were spinning and clouds of dust and grit were generating great roostertails, as the car fishtailed out of the campground. A woman scorned, and adorned with pride was on the loose, and would he ever see her sweet face again? Diana was so angry and stunned, that she didn't notice that her gas gauge was near empty as she drove on down the road for home, and it wasn't long until the big Lincoln started sputtering and rolled to a stop. It was evening time at Badwater, and she saw the sign; "do not drink the water-poison." She was filled with dread, and as if helpless within this strange environment, and her seething rage was slowly evaporating as she contemplated Dan with a new woman, "and what a lovely one at that. It was terrible, for she had imagined that he would love her still and might wait for a new chance at happiness? "Oh well, we're divorced and he had a right to seek other women," she thought, "and I've dated others too, so what is wrong with me?" She sat in the car with locked doors, she would would try to sleep til dawn, then walk back to Stovepipe Wells where she could get some help and gas for the thirsty vehemoth. Dan dropped his supplies upon the ground near the door of his trailer home, and told the blonde that he had to follow his ex-wife and explain some things. The blonde looked regretful, and returned to her motorhome. Dan had to unhook the truck, and then after about twenty minutes, he was racing down towards Takopa Hot Springs, hoping that he could overtake his ex-wife. "What will I tell her, and what can I say to explain the unexplainable," 'twere his hopeless thoughts. It was dark now, and the headlights were lighting the way upon a lonely road, and he was approaching Badwater. There was a car on the side of the road so vaguely seen, and he knew he had found her. It looked like car trouble, and he didn't see anyone inside. He drove up close, stopped the truck and walked up to the door, and then a figure within sat up and blinked into the blinding lights. He recognized her features, and she turned her head away, as if to say,"I don't want to talk to you." "Diana, I still love you, and what you saw was something quite different than you may have thought," he explained with anxiety. She finally rolled the window down and said with much regrets, "I should have known you've found someone else, and how could I have expected more?" She let him into the Lincoln and they talked awhile, the hours passing, no vehicles of any kind passing by. He explained to her of how he had met the other woman and how he had stood up to her advances. and of how he could think only of his ex-wife; Diana. She wondered if he was lying, but she knew from the past of how he had always tried to tell the truth, unless it was too embarrasing. She wanted to believe this man, as he pled with her for a reconciliation, with a return from his long vacation. "I'm not a fool you know," she breathed as he took her within his arms, and she melted with ferver unto his kisses, and it was so so good to be back where she belonged within the strong arms of love. PAINTER IN THE WILDERNESS PART 13 September 15, 1979; and it's a wedding day again for two lovers whom have been reborn as if from scorn. The little wedding chapel is filled with joy, their grown children too are supremely happy to have their parents back together. The blonde even came from Beverly Hills to be entertained, and Diana didn't mind, for she knew her man better than anyone upon planet Earth it seemed. That night, over in Henderson, they retired into the little trailer home and they wouldn't be phoning anyone for at least a week, they just needed to be alone. And was it better the second time around? They didn't know, for it was supreme the first it was, and just because. Another new adventure awaited them, for they would be off to Hawaii very soon, beneath a romantic Moon, "a paradise for lovers," it was forever advertised. Later, travelling down the I-15. listening to the rumble of the tires on the asphalt, contentment settled down upon their lives, and so very soon they would be taking off from Los Angeles International Airport on the Western Airlines plane. They would be visiting the islands of Oahu, Maui, Kuai and the Big Island of Hawaii. They would ride the skies so very high above where one could gaze almost into infinity, or touch the face of GOD himself it seemed. A gigantic 747 awaited the couple with baggage stowed aboard. The Stewardess led them in to find their seats to discover that the plane was full, alas no double seat left for them to be together. Dan was placed a few rows ahead of Diana, and the plane began to move out of the dock towards the runways, and it was then that the lovely Diana began to cry, for she wasn't used to flying, and thoughts of a crash and dying without her man took command. Well, the stewardess felt sorry for her, and so she went around trying to reorganize by asking anyone if they wished a window seat? It worked, and so Diana came and sat down next to her man. The 747 paused and turned around at the runway, and slowly began accelerating until they were airborne and climbing into the azure cloudless skies, the grip on earth was released and they were on their way. It would be a five hour flight because of strong headwinds, and they could hardly wait until they would see the lights at night of their romantic paradise. Just thirty minutes into their flight, something went wrong; a strange vibration was felt by all. It didn't go away, and so Dan got up from his seat to peer out of the right hand windows, and what he saw was frightening to say the least. Billowing smoke as it appeared, was coming from the wing, and it looked like there was a fire inside. What he didn't know was that it was fuel that was being released to ease the danger if there was a fire. A stewardess appeared and told them they had a hot engine, and they had to shut it down, and they would return to the airport. By now the passengers were wide eyed with uncertainty and the Stewardess' moved their trays to secure them and then strapped themselves in with fear. Dear Diana didn't seem to realize what was going on, and asked is everything allright? Dan assured her that it was, and for a precaution, they would proceed back to the airport. The aircraft was tilted to the side within a great turn, and Dan knew they would be landing very soon. Flying on two engines, the giant plane flew over the airport, and as the passengers peered down, they could see many flickering red lights; emergency vehicles parked along the runway they would use. Then there was some panic, for it looked serious to them now. The landing was a breeze, and in the terminal newsmen with cameras were interviewing some of the passengers. Later on upon another craft, they were lulled with an uneventful flight so high above the puffy clouds of finest fleece. It was smooth and perfect, and after five hours they saw the beautiful lights of Oahu appear, and they would be landing soon, and to be filled with the sweetest music of guitars and strings and of many other wonderful romantic things. Now they were at the majestic "Prince Kujio" hotel; thirty stories high and they were in the jacuzzi by the pools on the deck. Hawaiian music was playing, and they snuggled within the warmth of heated waters, revealing within their own feelings to others. It was good to be alive and to feel the pulse of a paradise just waiting to be explored. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 14 What a spectacular view it was, above the streets below, and the gentle surf along the famous Waikiki beach. Perfect weather and not a care within the world, why everyone they saw was so relaxed, it seemed unreal when compared with the mainland. Of course there were many distractions there with many pretty bikini girls, but with supreme satisfaction, Dan looked only upon his smiling bride with admiration within his squinting eyes. He thought of his friend over at Death Valley somewhere, and hoped he was well. "And of course, there would be a grand reunion sometime, somewhere," he mused within insightful reflection. But for now they would live it one day at a time, and who could ask for more? The elevators in the hotel were a wonder; the very kind within the confines of the Empire State building in New York City. Forty floors or more within a flash of seconds, and it sent their heads to spinning. Their room was spectacular, and designed for the very rich, and of course they were poor by worldly standards, but very lucky within their health and of their love for one another. The following day, they drove a rental car around the circumference of the island of Oahu, it was mind bending; the primitive volcanic beauty there, and they spent some time at Sunset beach where the towering waves were famous for surfing; and the monstrous waters there defying within logic of why anyone would try to survive them upon mere boards of fibre? The two of them were getting very hungry when they spied the hospital called, "Castle Memorial," and so they entered the cafeteria within the spotless confines of the white building. Wonderful vegetarian food was prepared and cheap, and so they gorged themselves on gravied roasts with corn and potatoes, and of course Pineapple with ice cream too. They flew to Kuai on the following day, Dan pondered why that there was no co-pilot in the cockpit for the short run? He thought almost out loud, "what if the pilot had a heart attack and died, and how would they get down safely through the clouds to whom knows where?" The McDonnell Douglas MD-80; super stretch, was a fast and reliable airplane, he knew, for he had worked on cockpit enclosures on a few over at Long Beach in the mid sixties, in fact he had witnessed the first rivets driven home on DC-9 number One, by the Chairman of the Board; the one and only mister Donald Douglass Jr. There were so many clouds way down below, that Dan couldn't even see the island with the airport, but thankfully the pilot knew what he was doing and they were soon landing with a gentle touch and yelp of tires on concrete. They walked away from the stunning bright aluminum tube into the terminal, where they paid for a rental car. They drove the small Dodge over to the Sands hotel right on the waterfront, where the breeze confronted a beautiful island sand. While on the island of Oahu, they had heard the weather report; A hurricane was developing about five hundred miles to the south west of Kuai, and the knowledge of this made them feel uncomfortable to say the least, but maybe it would pass the island? The island was small, and they drove around it quickly, before they entered the road and up the slopes of highway into a magnificent land of a polynesian Grand Canyon, where they spent an exciting day. It rained every day here, and it was known as the wettest place on planet Earth. There were roaring streams and rivers tumbling and flowing towards the ocean, and from these vaulted heights, one could see another inhabited island not on the tourist venues. The next day found the couple happily walking within the "Fern Grotto," a green paradise where many television scenes were planned and carried out. They had never experienced such greenery of hanging plants from entry way in caverns, it was like walking in paradise. They heard on the radio, that the Hurricane was approaching the island within a hundred miles, and they noticed the wind driven surf pounding the beach, the large glass fronts of the hotel were vibrating now, bringing a new sensation into their world of near contentment. They were told that they should fly out of there very soon, to escape a possible devastation, for it had happened many times before down thoughout Hawaiian history. It seemed that the Jet Stream crossed the island and brought in the hurricanes almost like a magnet does. They drove over to the airport to find that it was closing down, and all but one airliner had flown to the other islands. Thankfully, there was still room for them on the last one, and so they found themselves flying again, but bouncing, shifting up and down as the weather was disintregrating fast. They made an unscheduled landing on the island of Maui; the touchdown was very rough but good enough for safety. They were at the Maui airport for about two hours before boarding a Boeing 727 for the Big Island. At the hotel over there, they noticed the towering waves, generated by the tropic storm, and the news was bad for Kaui, the hurricane had dealt a punch and torn the windows out of the very hotel where they had stayed. Many homes were leveled and roofs had been blown away, the casualties were few, because the people had left for concrete shelters that were designed to withstand the onslaughts of hurricanes. Dan reminisced; "how nice it was over there, and now a terrifying thing had replaced a paradise with terror." They were now within the rooms of the "King Kamaiamaia." It had a beautiful small lagoon with a pure white beach to lay upon, the storm was far enough away to still enjoy the weather of sun and pristeen waters. PAINTER IN THE WILDERNESS PART15 Kona township was a good tourist trap, with it's sports bars, curio stores, and art galleries. The television series; The Kona Coast had brought it much attention, and people were crowded upon it's streets. Dan and Diana walked down to the waterfront to find the "Captain Cook," a large fibreglass two storied vessel, powered by diesel engines. They bought tickets for the next adventure planned for one p.m. then to cruise down the Kona coast until to anchor at the Captain Cook memorial, where there was a most beautiful anchorage with beautiful schools of tropical fish. They were accompanied there and back by many swimming Dolphins, almost as if the large hull was a homing device for an everpresent vice. Their grande hotel came into view as they cruised the coast, it was red from all the roses adorning the balconies, seemingly like unto wine colored waterfalls. They rented scuba gear and swam near the memorial, and the fish came to them within all varieties and colors, seeking bits of food and such. That night back at the big hotel, they slept soundly with dreams of a new tomorrow upon and inside lava tubes of Kiluahea. They did indeed visit the great volcanic mountain, it breathes in steamy vapors coming from deep within and rising to the skies. Inactive at that time, but ready, loaded with fire, one never knew when she would explode within a molten display, as seen the world over upon millions of television screens. Dan handed his Nikon camera to another couple near the edge of the great abyss, and their photographs were taken, and later to be developed back in Kona. Hawaii was a very large island, and it had so many rain forests along the coast. They finally arrived at Hilo, a place of the Tsunumai waves of historical significance per sey. Within the boundaries of this quaint seaport city, they found "Rainbow Falls, the most delicate and artistic waterfall that one could imagine. More photographs were taken there, and of course everywhere.they went, he was clicking the Nikon camera. There were a couple of cruise ships within the magnificent harbor, and their tourists were seen ambling through the historic town, where all so many had lost their lives when the ocean had become their doom within "Tasanumi way." They toured a Macadamian farm on the way to Blacks beach over on the southern tip of the Big Island. Many young Coconut and Palms fringed the beach where the molten masses of fire had devoured most everything alive along the way to the restless sea where white foaming geysers were shooting off into the sky with every onrush of wave with tide, something powerful to behold. The sea was much calmer now than when the terrible Hurricane had devastated the island of Kauai. It seemed like a natural cycle, the way that nature ruled her own. The man with woman had thoughts of living on this island, for there was lot's of room within this paradise with so many plants and flowers abridging the roads and canyons along the way. The following day they flew to Maui, and drove up the winding road to it's fantastic craters above the clouds.."Magnificent," is what is 'twas, as thoughts prevailed as they rode rented bicycled down the road, and what fun it was to be on Maui, the Queen of Hawaii. While at the mountains top, they had viewed the quaint island of Molokai where there was a Leper colony. Tourists were forbidden to travel there, but of course some travelled there without permission anyway. They enjoyed Glass bottom boats, ate chocolate covered Macadamian nuts until they felt sick inside, but still felt the zest to enjoy it all the same. Time stood still as it always will when one is becalmed with the wonder of it all; unforgettable Hawaii at any time, for the seasons seemed the same. Why, you could take a midnights swim within the surf and never take a chill; the warming waters so pleasing and reasurring. The only thing standing in the way for living here was the cost of living, and much more than in California, or so it seemed within their elevated dream like state. They stayed at another Hotel called the "Sands," one with heated swimming pool, that was wrapped around the grounds like an Octopus would appear. They lay there on the magnificent sandy beach, just feeling great underneath the shining Sun, then admiring Sand Castles created by some very creative people. They circumnavigated the green island, photographing every waterfall it seemed, and so enjoying the amazing scenery, and soon it was time to return to the mainland, for nothing lasts forever, especially money. Walt Christian Larsen All Rights Reserved: PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART16 Two sweethearts were trying to get some sleep as they listened to the rushing sounds of air outside of their aluminum tube like flying machine. It was one oclock in the morning and everything outside the oval window was opaque black, while inside just soft dream like lights prevailed across the cabin. Most of the passengers were fast asleep, and 'twas a time to reflect and think upon the times that they had played and lived within and upon the Islands of paradise. This time they were being whisked towards the mainland within a gigantic DC-10; the vast magic carpet that flew so very well across the seas and continents. They didn't recall dozing off, and after looking at his watch, he realized that three hours has passed within a dreamlike blink. Yes, it was just four and one half hours of tailwinds, and then the stunning multicolored lights of Los Angeles were seen through the windows. Dazzling, is what it was, and just before dawn as the big jet landed at L.A. International airport. Within the terminal building, they gathered their baggage from the rotisserie, and walked outside to the parking lot, where the big Lincoln and been left. It was going to be quite a large parking fee, but it didn't matter, for they were still immersed within their own memories and of loves sweet closeness. Two heads together, as the big car cruised along highway 10; the cruise control set at sixty miles an hour, past Pomona, Ontario and then to the Inland Empire of San Bernardino, then up to Big Bear Lake Village near the top of the San Bernardino mountains where was the old cabin house that they had known so well at the top of their little world. The air pristeen, the weather cool and fine as they drove up to their place within the Sun. Mount San Gorgonia loomed to the south east and casting it's spell, it's lofty dome of snow shimmering white, and looking north to the picturesque valley of Lucerne, oh what a view it was almost like a moonscape. One beautiful acre called home it was, and they entered the house where they had lived so long, and where their children had been raised. Bittersweet memories came flooding back to the man, back from the wastelands of rock and basalt, and of the breath of death. Dan had taken photographs of Gerald Moe with his mule where they had met in the heat and dust of a wonderland that some could not comprehend. And so after a few days of getting organized, he was back to painting within this mountain setting, and of course he started the portrait of his friend and mule. This one was going to be large; forty eight inches tall by twenty four wide, something to wow the skeptics of a new Santa Claus like creature with kindly features. Diana was a great help, for if something about the face wasn't right, she would come down hard with helpful criticisms. They were good for each other and she could see clearly the errors that Dan seemed not aware, and it seemed that they were complete opposites. Diana soon went back to work over in San Bernardino, and he knew that he should look for work soon, but for now he continued with this envisioned masterpiece of oils and canvasse so. He was working from three enlarged photographs from different views, each showed the glint of different faceted interpretations. "This was going to be very good ," he felt within his artists mind, and it would take a special frame to set it apart from the ordinary. There was a custom frame shop down at Big Bear City, but he didn't frequent them very often because of higher prices, and so he planned to go down to San Bernardino to a large frame business, called "Van Goh's," that specialized in Gilt edging. The following day at the business, he picked out a style from the catalogue, told them the size, and was told that it would be ready within a week. The price was surprisingly low for that type of specialized frame, and could be had for a mere $200.00 dollars. While there he bought more artists supplies and a brand new aluminum easel, and started back up to Big Bear. His Ford pickup truck hummed smoothly up the winding hairpin curves and along the rocky ledges of a great mountain, and he was soon home. Diana was already back from work, and she was making supper; the delicious aroma wafting within the rooms. His wife was a woman that didn't like to cook, and so this was a very special occasion to Dan, whom perceived that she was trying to please her man. He smiled with appreciation within her direction, seeing her as if she were brand new again. While in Death Valley, he had completed three desert landscapes, and now he looked for frames in the garage where he had stored some that he had bought in garage sales. He was very lucky to find four good frames that would fit, and so he installed the paintings upon the walls in the den. It now seemed like he had his own personal little art show within the room. Of course he phoned some of his friends so as to let them know that he was back and allright, and so it went as he completed his masterpiece. Now it was framed with the magnificent giltwork of gleaming gold, and it now hung within a place of honor within his den. It was the best thing that he had ever done, but would it stand the test of the critics? Time would only tell, as all seemed well. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 17 Something troubling was brewing within one mans mind, and so "I'm going back to Death Valley," Dan said to his beloved wife one day. "I'm going too," she replied with conviction. "I've got to find the old man and show him the painting," he said. So, when the winter came, they were seen driving off in the truck and trailer, and on down the narrow winding road to Lucerne Valley just below the view from Big Bear environs. From there they drove the backroad to Victorville and then on the I-15 through Mojave town, and on to Baker, with a left hand turn north to Takopa Hot Springs. This was a much different time of the year, the weather was mild, and slightly on the cool side. But the famous springs were running warm, and so they spent time at the upper pools where Dan had spent some time before. Others too were splashing about, and Dan looked with pride upon his woman thing; for Diana indeed was still ravishing within her two piece swimming suit, and so they lolled around within the healing mineral waters until drowsiness meant a return to the trailer. No air conditioning at this time of the year, and they slept like logs before the coming of the dawn. In the morning, Dan went over to the store and enquired if Moe had been heard from? The short black bearded proprietor told him that mister Moe indeed had been there for a week about a month before, and that he was planning on going over to Ridgecrest, and would be back in about two more weeks. At this time of the year, there were hordes of people at the Hot Springs, RV's were crowded within the confines of the parking lot, and the road north into Death Valley was travelled with a steady stream of vehicles, small and large. Dan knew that space at Texas Springs campground would be nigh to impossible to obtain, but he was driven to return again with his wife to his place of terror and serenity. He needed to further explore that cave, and find out if there was anything hidden within it's mysterious tunnels? "I'm not going into that cave," his wife said emphatically! Dan laughed, and said, "of course I wouldn't expect you to go along, I want you to stay in the trailer and to be there when I return to keep me warm." She gave him a knowing look and smiled within her beguiling ways. "And was this going to be their third honeymoon," he pondered? West Virginia, Hawaii and now Death Valley too, it made quite a list for just the two of them. It was quite a drive through the magnificent valley, and Dan was overcome with emotion as he saw the very place that he had met the old man of the desert and his noble burro. They saw a big fifth wheel RV leaving Texas Spring campground, and so they took the place at the bottom of the hill, near where the little tent was pitched that once contained the "Coyote." The gleaming mistic Harley still stole the show within his ethereal imagination. Dan and Diana set up shop, and had their supper, and it was strange and exciting how Diana kept cooking up such delicious meals, food that seemed fit for a king indeed, "and was it really better the second time around," he pondered? Diana had a month of vacation time coming from her work place in San Bernardino, where she was employed as an Architect. Dan had obtained new employment in Riverside as an Aeronautical Engineer, and he would start work as soon as they returned from the Death Valley sojourn. "Life is good," he mused as they nodded off to sleep that night, listening to the recorded strains of, "put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone, and let's pretend that we're together once again." Well, the lovers didn't have to just talk upon a telephone at all, and oh the wonder of it all. Time stood still for a number of days of enjoyment. They walked the trails and travelled the valley end from end, they climbed the mountains, and all the while the weather was perfect. They stayed over at the hotel at Stovepipe Wells where they enjoyed the swimming pool and the jacuzzi too. They met new acquaintances from other states and many places of the world, for this spot upon the western map was like unto a magnet to people that had heard the archaeic tales of the 49ers. They shopped at Furnace Creek and took the tour at Scotty's famous castle, then hunted and found Sidewinder rattlesnakes. They even saw a Mojave Green; "the most deadly snake in North America," 'twas told. They rented dune buggies with tall flag masts, and churned and turned the sand dunnes, and after the day, returning to their comfortable trailer just over there. Walt Christian Larsen All Rights Reserved: PAINTER IN THE WASTELAND PART 18 Gerald Moe and his beloved burro were treading ground above the small town of Darwin, just to the western side of the Owlhead mountains. They were headed up a trail that went through a pass and down through a canyon where not many had travelled before. There was no water there and no forgiveness if one were driven to his knees by an accident or of sickness. They had been over this trail once before, and it was the very time he had met his newfound friend; mister Dan Janson. The old man always seemed to be dwelling within the misty past, but of course always aware of danger there and well prepared, even though old age was also something to consider within logic too. They were about three days by foot from Takopa Hot Springs, and so he was well stocked with supplies upon the back of his trusty friend; Mabel. The weather was cool, and a breeze picked up and brought a chill upon the old mans face, but he didn't complain and kept moving along at a measured pace. Moe had just had his seventy sixth birthday a few days before, and had celebrated with some old friends near Darwin town, and he now smiled as he thought of the meeting with tales of oldtimers gold all rolled into pleasant conversation. He also thought of the great war back in nineteen forty two; as a young major, commanding and piloting a B-17 Superfortress. He didn't like to talk about these things, because it was too terrible within his memory, but alas he often recalled his young friends whom hadn't survived the fire and flak high above the skies of Europe. He thought with trepidation and the recall with fear, "of fifteen missions," and luckily returning from every one, and some of his aircraft barely flightworthy because of damage, and loss of an engine a time or two. His first aircraft, "the Amazing Jennie Lee," had brought the crew back while on fire, and exploded soon after they had gotten out upon the strip in England. Why he was still here, he didn't really know, and it must have been unheard of luck he'd had, and lost soon after within that Missouri tornado, with the terrible loss of his beloved family? Two sons and one daughter along with the love of his life; his wife, it 'twas, and so here he was as if just a tramp, rumaging along like a clown upon unholy ground. He had a wife, daughter and two sons once, they were gifted children, and he had made plans for their education and had saved what he could for their futures. Derek was just fifteen and Nathaniel ten, and daughter Anne; the piano prodigy, was eight when the unthinkable became reality. He trudged on with a curious mixture of highs and lows upon a happy saddened trail to no avail; the old man and his friend. The weather changed, and dark stormy clouds began to merge upon the western horizon, the wind picked up and throwing dust, and Moe felt the slight prickling sensation of tiny drops of rain stinging his weathered face. He looked for someplace of refuge, but saw nothing that he could use, and so they travelled on step by step with their backs to the wind. Finally he found a place where a great leaning boulder obscured the trail. It was just enough to provide a shelter from the rain, that by now was coming fast within a vast deluge. A rushing stream of water now occupied the trail and proceeded to carve it deeper within it's cutting stealth. The lightning flashed wickedly all across the firmament, turning darkness to shadowed light, the booming thunder reminding one of GOD and his almighty power. They stayed there until the next day became clear skies and muddy ground to walk upon. Moe felt weak, and his wrinkled brow seemed awfully hot, and he knew that he had a fever, and needed to be dry, and so he built a fire from some firewood that he had brought along, and camped there until he felt better. Alas, he wasn't getting better, and the fever accelerated and he was now coughing with a terrible hack and a rumbling sensation within his lungs. He was far from help, in fact about thirty miles back to Darwin, and a good sixty to the springs, but he wasn't alarmed and not sorry for himself, for he was gifted with thoughts for others and not a child within his mind. Moe lay there within his sleeping bag, trying to weather this new ordeal, and all the while forcing liquids down and eating canned peaches too. He thought, "I must have picked up some germs from one of my friends back at Darwin?" "No one seemed to be ailing at the time of drinking rum and beer," he mused within deep regrets. He wasn't going anywhere soon until he felt better, and a chill went up his spine as he thought of Pneumonia. "If I die here, what will happen to Mable," were his thoughts of unselfishness. He began to sputter out a singing song of, "what will be will be," with his croaking rich basso voice. He had a strong constitution, and he just knew that he could beat this uneventful downturn within his equalibrium. Time with it's wounds and healing would reveal the truth upon the sands of the lost, for he too was a believer in GOD, even though he was a faulted one of no pomp within circumstance, but one rich within memories and nought much else, this man of the desert land. We now leave the scene of this dying patriarch, and return to Texas Springs campground. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 19 Completely unaware of the plight of a friend whom had saved his life, Dan was engrossed within a new painting, for he had that artistic itch within his bones, and after he had tired of mixing paint, he decided to drive on over to the springs and see if the old man had arrived when said he would. Arriving at the store, Diana and Dan were told that Moe was overdue by two days. Needless to say, the proprietor was very disturbed and worried, for the old desert wanderer had always been on time when had planned his itineraries. There was a telephone number that he had left behind, so one might enquire of his whereabouts, and so Dan dialed up the number and talked to the fire chief at Darwin. The chief said that Moe had walked off up into the hills about five days ago on the way to Takopa Hot Springs, and he should have been there two days ago. There was anguish within his tone of voice, as he talked to Dan, "something must have gone very wrong, and we've got to send rangers out there and try to find him." Dan felt sickness within the pit of his stomache, as he visualized so many different calamities that might have befallen his newfound friendl. And so, everything they had planned was now on hold as the couple drove back up through Death Valley on the long route around to Darwin, California, and it was quite a drive of ups and downs with cutbacks here and there. By the way, they had stopped to attach the trailer at the campgrounds, and so they had a comfortable place to stay while awaiting word of Moe's whereabouts. One day later, a ranger posse brought old Moe and his burro down the trail from the Owlheads. He was almost dead from advanced preumonia, and they followed the ambulance over to the Ridgecrest hospital. Neither said a word, for they could scarcely breathe, as they crossed their fingers for a healing that could never come. Within the hospital room, the old man was in a bed with an oxygen tent over his dear face, and almost comatose. There couldn't be much time left, for he was so very weak; the strong man of the wilderness. Dan brought the framed painting into the hospital room, and the doctor said that they could try to show it to him if it was possible. Dear Diana became emotional and lost control; she sobbed until her eyes were red and she could hardly see through the tears. Dan was driven into deep despair, and would have gladly given his own life for his friend if he could. They heard some rasping moans, coming from behind the plastic facade of the oxygen tent, and so the doctor pulled it open to expose the dear old face of a man with his eyes half open. "We don't have much time," said the doctor, and so Dan lifted the painting of Moe and Mable up upon the bed so he could view it. The old man showed complete surprise and smiled through a veil of tears and said haltingly, "thank you friends, and I love you too, and it's looks beautiful." It was then he closed his loving eyes, and passed into another world of mystic sleep. The old strong weathered heart had stopped for good, and now he belonged unto the ages within only memory. The funeral was down at Darwin at the methodist church on the corner of the main drag through town. Moe had some money stashed within the sacks upon the back of his faithful burro, money that paid for his funeral expenses, and so a few old desert rats were there along with "Seldom Seen Slim," one man that was famous within an infamous land of rock and sand. The preacher told the sad story of a lonely man without his dear family, and of how he had walked these fabled lands for thirty years or more, to become an institution. He knew about the old man's military experiences in World War Two, and so he expounded upon that part of his life. As a Major in the war, the young man had left the Army Airforce in 1945 with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, then started his delightful family within Missouri lands, and of how the type five tornado came and took his family away. Someone had found his medals and ribbons, and one stood tall among them all, the "Silver Star for Galantry under Fire." One old war horse had been retired with tears within the eyes of those listening to the touching words of one teary eyed preacher. Dan became a volunteer Paulbearer, as they carried Moe out to the Hearse, and arrived at an old archaeic graveyard at the top of a hill just up the road towards where Moe had walked his last miles. Dan offered to take the Mule, if that would be allright, and the Sheriff said that it was OK, for the old man didn't seem to have any known family. Dan somehow got the mule into the back of the pickup truck and tied him securely, so he wouldn't spring free on down the road, and took him on towards Big Bear Lake, where he could have a good life with love from Dan and Diana. Dan thought about the amazing man all the way back home; someone dear that could never ever roam again. The painting had turned out so real and livid, that Dan almost felt that the old man still lived, and he would forever hang upon his walls of honor so. PAINTER IN THE WASTELANDS PART 20 He held the floodlight and a battery pack within his hands, and it was light as day within the mysterious cave, and Dan struggled on past the remnants of the Rattlesnake that he had killed so many months before. He shone the blinding light upon it's carcasse and noticed it was now almost like unto a flattened leather belt, and the rattles scattered about like oblong crusty marbles, and no hint of the head. Further on he crawled, sometimes bumping his head against the low ceiling, and then he could stand, as the cavern became much larger that before. He surmised that this had once been an underground river, and in flood season, had spouted a spraying torrent from it's tormented mouth, and to form the gulch that was the trail he had traversed. He continued on exploring every crevasse and outcrop, as if expecting to see the glints of gold within his fevered imagination. The tunnel now was going up at about thirty degrees, and Dan knew that he was now climbing up into the mountains that framed the eastern range of the Panamints. He heard the distant splatter and trickle of water, and soon he stooped to cup pure water from an underground spring. "Not very much," he surmised, "and just enough to keep someone alive if needs be. He continued on until he was now within a large room it seemed, with two more tunnels continuing on to the east, or so it seemed. And then he saw it behind a boulder; the scattered bones and skull of a human being. He picked up the yellowed skull to see a small hole across the left temple area, and a larger jagged one to the back of the head. It looked like murder to the artist and intruder, and he pondered the story that these very walls could tell to no avail? Like a forensic scientist, he assembled the bones the best he could in the shape of a man or woman. He guessed the height at about six foot more or less. Dan was within a trance, as he shuffled around with his fingers as if seeking for something profound. Success was his at last, as he picked up the misshapen wad of lead that had once been a perfect bullet. "Was there a treasure hidden here," as his thoughts accelerated with quickened heart beats. He was just turning around to survey his retreat, when he heard the soft tread of footfalls somewhere, and with slight echoeing along the forbidden tunnel. A chill pervaded his entire being, as he realized his situation. Dan's hands were shaking when he accidentally dropped the light; it shattered and went out, and the opaque darkness seemed as thick as soup. Dan felt his way across to the boulder with the bones and crept behind, while pulling out his 357 Magnum Ruger, pressing the cold metal into his fingers like it was a friend. He thought with a pain in his throat, "I hope I don't have to kill someone?" Complete silence~~~~~~~~~ now pervaded the tomb like atmosphere, as Dan waited for what? His body began shaking like a leaf as he imagined death within a place like this, and then he felt a hand grasping his shoulder, and he heard through his terror; "WAKE UP dear, your having a nightmare." Diana was now cuddled up to him in bed, and this had only been a dream it seemed. It was now time to get up and prepare for work over at Riverside, and as he took his hot shower, he thought about that dream, and the urge to go there and explore became almost an obcession. They both rode together, and he would drop off Diana in San Bernardino while continuing on to Riverside, and then in the afternoon pick her up again, and they would do some shopping and then go on up to Big Bear. Sometimes when Dan had to work overtime, Diana would get a lift from another architect that lived at Big Bear too. It was a good arrangement they had, and money was not in short supply. The Inland Empire was a vast depository of all classes, and crime was rampant down within the city of San Bernardino, and smog lay upon the horizon like an ugly blanket of doom. Up above at Big Bear, it was another world of purity and of pristeen wilderness. But of course they were not immune from vandalism and breakins from time to time even up there. One day Dan awoke to the realization that he and Diana hadn't had an argument since their marital return. "It was unbelievable, for they had quite a history of going at it verbally before. Maybe they were wiser now and more mature," he mused. Of course they still had differences, but they both seemed to consider the others feelings and desires above their own. How wonderful it was within this new relationship, and it reinforced their need for each other. Mabel the mule was now a permanent part of their family, and he seemed at home out in the new corral that Dan had built in his off time. They kept the mule in hay and oats and she was getting kind of roly poly. BACK TO DEATH VALLEY Life seems very good for some, and it was just two summers gone when Dan found himself back in Death Valley with the truck and trailer at the original camp ground. It seemed that dear Diana didn't want to endure the terrible heat of the lowest spot in the continental United States, and so fate was faced by one man alone at the cave, and of course Dan thought of the biker at the bottom of the hill, and the thrill of surviving the evil of that adventure of a few years ago. He was now outfitted with all the things that a cave explorer would need and had provisions to last for about a month, and so here he was as the night approached with it's many natural sounds including stacatto rhythm chirp of cricket and and high pierced howling coyote calls, as he thought about it all. He missed his wife, but he knew he had to do what he had come here for, and it was to explore the mysteries within, or none at all. He crawled on his hands and knees within the blackened cave and felt the chill run up and down his spine, a wondering what he would find this time within the murky depths. A powerful powerpack flashlight now held within his hands as the cave became almost as light as day, and then he saw assorted belongings of someone that had stayed onetime within the din of what he recalled so painfully as the bullets sprayed and bounced about. He found the spot where he had shot the rattlesnake, but no evidence was found that it had ever been there upon the stony ground. Finally able to stand, he continued gradually upward on a slowly trek up this now dry underground river of another time. He advanced to what he thought was the spot around the bend where he had found the scattered skeleton in his dreams, but nothing other than rocks lay there. Sauntering about among stony ledges and holes as he kept his footing along the narrow confines, and then the cave became two as he tried to decide which one to explore. He took the right turn and now the tube was smaller and he ducked his head every now and then. Suddenly it came, "the sound of trickling water," and he found a tiny waterfall of the purest beverage coming down from the ceiling, and so he lay his pack down close by and decided to stay awhile contemplating the source of it. Dan had an extra batterypack attached to his belt and a canteen too that he didn't have to use, and now he decided to have his lunch. He turned the light off and complete darkness enveloped him as he munched on the egg sandwich, and then he heard scraping sound coming from ahead and getting ever closer. Of course he was scared out of his wits, as waited for whatever it was? Dan flicked the switch on the high intensity flashlight to expose the huge black bear coming on all fours towards him, and now definitely growling~~~~~~~~. Thoughts were racing within his head, "should he get out of here or should he face the beast with my 357 Magnum?" He was now frozen and paralyzed and not able to get away, and so he held the big gun in his hand pointing as he faded into a depression in the wall of rock, and the beast kept coming on, it's tiny eyes flickering with the light. Dan was known as "one of a kind" and didn't pull the trigger, as the bear crawled by and on the way towards the opening about a quarter mile away. "Wheeewwwwww," he breathed as the cold sweat consumned his face and chest, and he felt lucky that the bear hadn't bothered with his kind this time. He seriously considered going back to the entrance and leaving the myseries of the cave hehind, but decided to carry on within his explorations until he was satisfied. About four hours later and about two miles up the tube he decided to stop and decide if he should continue, when all hell broke loose with the frightening episode of a catastrophic earthquake. Dan was thrown around upon the rocks like a rag doll within the sweaty hands of a lunatic, and he became bruised and bleeding as the place continued to shake. His light had fallen to the floor of the cave and had gone out and the pitch black seemed as black as printers ink. Rock was falling from the ceiling of his tomb and he pondered the possibility of being buried alive at a time as this? DIANA WORRIES ABOUT HER MAN Diana was at home up at Big Bear City, seven thousand feet above sea level, and she hadn't heard from Dan for two whole days. He usually called her every night on the telephone as he would reassure her of his welfare, and then the earthquake came and rolled~~~~~~ the home around like a pirate ship upon the stormy seas of make believe. The television news announced the details and of the epicenter for the six point eight earthquake, as she heard that Death Valley was close to the epicenter and she began to really worry about her beloved husband. She immediately called their son Glenn who lived in Sacramento, but the phone kept ringing until she set it down, and decided to drive the big black Lincoln back to Death Valley and try to find him. Four hours later she drove into the Texas Spring Campground and noticed their trailer rig there, but there was no answer when she knocked at the door, and so she took her duplicate door key and opened it and went in. Now she was really scared, and so she drove over to the ranger station over at Stovepipe Springs and told the man at the desk of her fears and trepidation. She got an immediate response to her queries, and soon some rangers were heading for the cave as she described it's location. DAN FINDS HE CAN'T GET OUT OF THE CAVE Long after the tremors of the great quake subsided, Dan headed for the far off entrance, and about halfway there found the chamber blocked with fallen rock, and so he spent many hours moving stones out of the way. He thought back to the other time he had been in trouble in this very cave and pondered aloud of how this all could happen within a world of chance and happenstance? He knew that Diana would be alarmed and getting into gear by now because he hadn't talked to her on the telephone for more than two days. An acrid smell now encompassed the intersanctum and he worried about methane gas that could kill as it will, and so he went back to the fork of tunnels to head up the new way and to possibly find an opening to the outside somewhere. Many hours later along the stumbling black pitched way he stopped to rest and wish for the broken high beamed flashlight, and that is when he fell asleep for hours, and of how many he could not imagine without being able to view his watch upon the wrist. "At least the cavein of the cave would keep the bear away," he thought, and he knew that someone with his dear wife would be coming soon, or would they? The musty smell was now getting weaker, and he knew that he was in a better local with that in mind. The rangers and Diana came with shovels and high poered battery operated lights, and they found the cavein as it was seen from the other side, and she prayed that her man would be found allright. They could smell the methane gas and worried that they might not make it to him in time. Dan was now crawling along in the pitch black tunnel, for it was smaller now and climbed steeply as he hoped to see daylight from a possible vent, and now he heard mysterious clinking sounds echoeing along his stony path of passage. Suddenly a terrible explosion and soon a rush~~~~ of heated air almost rolled him over, and he knew the methane gas was for real. "It was a good thing that he had changed direction and gone this way," he thought, and maybe it would be good to start back towards the sounds that he had heard, but now there was this terrible silence. He wondered if the one's that might be seeking him might have been hurt or killed within the explosion? "I hope Diana wasn't there when it happened, he said out loud, his voice echoing again and again as if he had company. to be continued Walt Christian Larsen All Rights Reserved: A CONTINUING SAGA, so please return again CLICK ON REDBAR to return to page ONE