Julie looked up at the vertical rock walls on both sides of them. After clearing the traffic jam at Gregory Butte, they had been able to go fast for a while before traffic thickened and the water became rougher, forcing Greg to slow again. But the landscape was changing. Just south of Gregory was Padre Bay, the largest open area of water at Lake Powell. Normally, Padre Bay by itself would be a huge lake, but with the water levels so low, most of it had disappeared. The main river channel, normally too far underwater to be visible in the bay, now cut back and forth like a snake. Access to what was left of the bay had been reduced to numerous channels. Most of these channels were impassable, however, since the amount of water draining from Padre into the river was so great. Attempting passage would be like running upstream through rapids.
Greg slowed slightly as they rounded a bend. Up ahead on the left, a waterfall about ten feet high flowed from a side canyon into the main channel. The volume of the waterfall was staggering, and the boats ahead were steering as far to the right as possible to avoid getting sucked under the falls and capsized. Julie cupped her hand over her mouth in horror as she saw a boat upside down next to the falls. She couldn't see anyone in the water, but if they were not wearing life jackets, she wouldn't be able see them, would she? She tried to imagine the Mastercraft being pulled under the falls and taking the brunt of the water. She suddenly knew that the people in the boat were dead.
As they pulled alongside the capsized boat, Greg had to actually accelerate to pull away from the current that pulled them toward the falls. Julie saw what looked like a life jacket bobbing. Her first thought was that somebody was still stuck in there, being bobbed like a toy up and down under the falls. But then she saw the life jacket was empty. She wasn't sure whether it was good or bad. Where were the people?
"Man, that's amazing," Paul said.
Greg nodded. He pointed to the hull of the boat floating upside down. "It looks like it's at least a twenty-footer."
Paul shook his head. "Wonder why they let it get too close."
Greg shrugged. "Maybe they stalled it or something. Without an engine, it would suck you in."
Julie thought of the family they had passed, the one whose boat had stalled in the middle of the channel and Greg had swerved to miss. What would happen to them when they drifted down here? She thought of the little girl clutching her mother. Julie suddenly realized this would not be the last waterfall. All the bays, canyons and side chutes off the river would eventually have to drain into the main channel. Over the next several hours, the Lake Powell channel would become a gauntlet of waterfalls.
CHAPTER 21
Grant looked at his watch. This was taking way too long. After everyone agreed a dike made out of sandbags would work, the calls had gone out all over Las Vegas. They expected trucks to start rolling in any minute, but so far nothing. Based on quick estimates from the construction companies, there were somewhere between 75,000 and a 150,000 bags available in the Las Vegas area, although only a small fraction were already full. The remainder would need to be filled. Even if they were full, Grant knew that wasn't nearly enough. A few more calls located a distributor in Los Angeles and a manufacturer in Salt Lake City. The manufacturer was already closed, but the owner had been located on a cell phone and he was arranging to get enough staff to ship his entire inventory. Between the two companies, Grant figured they could get another million bags. Speed was a big issue, but cargo planes would be used from both locations. Grant went out on a limb and said the Bureau would pay, and Governor Jenkins pulled a few strings to make it happen.
In the meantime, the construction companies didn't think they could possibly fill a million bags before 5:00 a.m., which was the goal Grant gave them. They estimated they would be lucky to fill a tenth of that. The problem had then become how to fill a million bags in the next ten hours, bags that probably wouldn't be in Las Vegas for a few hours.
"Why don't we ask for volunteers?" asked Shauna. "Anybody with a shovel."
Grant shrugged. "Where are we gonna get enough volunteers on this short notice?"
"They're all watching the news. All we'd have to do is make an announcement on the ten o'clock news."
Grant scoffed. "That would be chaos. What are we gonna do, just tell them to bring their shovels and come on down?"
"Why not?" Fred said, moving over next to Shauna. "Everybody's got a shovel, and right now we need all the help we can get."
Grant shook his head and glared at his friend. "You can't be serious, Fred."
"I am serious. Every time those guys in the Midwest get flooded out, it's always the people themselves that are sandbagging to protect their cities. Don't underestimate the people — they care more than you think."
Grant looked at the two of them while they waited for his response. Actually, Shauna's volunteer idea would probably work if they just had more time. He felt bad for snapping at both of them. He wondered how many volunteers they would need to fill a million sand bags. What if each person filled a hundred bags? That would be 10,000 people. But, a hundred bags seemed like too many for one person; maybe 20,000 people would be better. What about loading and carrying? Better double it again. Grant guessed, to be safe, they would need at least 50,000 volunteers.
Grant held out his hands as if to say slow down. "All right, let's think out loud for a second. What if we asked for volunteers and we got 'em? Where do we want them to go? We'd need to have multiple locations; we can't just have them digging on the side of Boulder Highway. And who is gonna supervise them, and distribute the bags? What about light? It's gonna be dark, right? And what about moving the bags when they're full? We're gonna need trucks. We can't have a thousand pickups driving down to the dam to unload their bags. This is a big enough deal that we are going to need somebody to organize it, somebody who can focus specifically on this task."
Shauna and Fred both smiled at Grant. Grant could tell they were both happy he was at least considering it.
"Didn't the governor say the mayor of Las Vegas was here at Hoover?" Fred asked.
"Politicians need to get re-elected," said Shauna. "And politicians are usually great at delegating. The mayor could appoint a bunch of his buddies to head up other groups."
Grant didn't like the way it sounded, but he wondered if there were other types of people who could handle thousands of volunteers better. "What about cops, or firemen? What if we had about 50 cops team up with each group of politicians? Would that be enough supervision for a couple thousand volunteers?"
Fred nodded. "Yeah. That would be good, or even the National Guard. As long as they had uniforms. Then the volunteers would know where to go to ask questions."
"Okay, where do we tell them to go?" Shauna asked.
Grant considered that. He cringed at the thought of 50,000 volunteers scattered along the highway. Their cars would block the road and cause a horrific traffic jam that wouldn't allow the sand bag trucks through to the dam. But where else could they go? The best plan would include numerous locations scattered around the desert. Then they wouldn't conflict with each other; the crowds would be separated and not blocking anything. Unfortunately, Grant didn't know any locations. He wasn't from Las Vegas.
"We'll need some help from the mayor," Grant said. "We'll recommend that he and his staff choose ten or twenty places around Las Vegas with lots of sand and gravel where we can have the volunteers go. We can list the sites on TV. We can have a politician or two head up each spot, with a bunch of police and firemen to support them."
"This could work," Fred said, smiling.