Milton looked ahead and saw something glistening across the road. It almost looked like water. Milton had lived in the desert his whole life and he knew a mirage when he saw one. When heat waves radiated out of the desert, it looked just like water. However, Milton could not remember ever seeing a mirage at night. He wondered if the alcohol in those complimentary drinks at the casino was playing with his mind. One strange thing he noticed about this mirage, besides it being at night, was that usually they moved away from you as you approached them, kind of like rainbows, but this one seemed to stay put.
Suddenly, Milton wondered if it wasn't a mirage at all, but real water. But where would enough water come from to create a lake in the middle of the Mojave Desert? He had no idea.
When Milton finally realized it was real water, it was too late. He slammed on the brakes. The car skidded a few feet before it hit the water. At almost ninety, the small Cavalier hydroplaned easily, shooting across the top of the water. The back end came around on Milton and he tried to steer out of it; however, the effort seemed to backfire as the small car swapped ends. At least he hadn't hit anything. But then the car left the road and the tires dug into the deeper water. The motion flipped the car and it rolled twice before sliding to a stop upside down and sinking into waist deep water.
Upside down, Milton touched himself to make sure he was still alive. The left side of his head hurt. He must have hit it during the roll. As the car sank, water poured through the broken right window. Milton decided he'd better get out or he would drown. When he reached for the seatbelt release his head went underwater. He found the latch and when it released he fell on his head. The Cavalier was cramped and he gulped water and almost drowned before he turned upright. Finding the door release, he pulled. Nothing. He braced himself and pushed with his feet while pulling the lever and finally the door released with a loud screeching noise.
Milton stumbled onto his feet and found himself standing in three feet of water. He saw lights coming toward him from another car and he sloshed farther away from the road in case there was another crash. This car slowed, however, and stopped. Once Milton decided he was in no danger, he found the submerged road and waded back to where the vehicle had stopped.
"Are you okay, buddy?" the man asked, walking in front of a black SUV with its hazard lights blinking.
Milton put his hand up to the left side of his head. "Yeah, I think so."
"Didn't you see the water?"
"Not until it was too late." He looked around and saw water in all directions, illuminated by the lights of the SUV. "Where'd all this come from?"
"The aqueduct probably broke," said the man.
"Aqueduct?"
"Yeah. The California Aqueduct runs right along the hill over there." The man pointed up on the hill.
Milton should have known. He knew about the California Aqueduct. It was one of the main sources of water for Los Angeles from the Colorado River. Without it, Palm Springs would be even more of a desert than it already was. It's just that his head was a little foggy. Milton wondered what they should do. "Should we report it?"
"Definitely." The man headed back toward his car. "I've got a cell phone. Looks like we're the first ones here."
Milton looked around again. He tried to see the other side of the water, but the SUV's lights were not bright enough to reach. He wondered briefly if his wife would go easy on him now that he was hurt, then decided not. He was lucky to be alive, but his wife would not see it that way. She might still kill him. And another thing — Milton had thought about it for a while now and he was pretty sure there were no mirages at night.
CHAPTER 29
After Grant returned to the visitor center, he found his suitcase and changed out of the coveralls into a clean pair of slacks and a polo shirt with the Bureau of Reclamation's logo on the breast pocket. He ran a brush through his hair and adjusted the bandages on his arms. He tried his shoes, but they fit too tight on the swollen toe, so he put the oversized jogging shoes back on.
When Grant walked back into the lobby, he saw the governor had returned, surrounded by his entourage. The group huddled around someone that, at first, Grant didn't recognize. However, as he and Fred walked toward the group, Grant saw that the man shaking hands with the governor was his boss Roland Blackwell, the commissioner of the Bureau of Reclamation. Grant felt a knot in his stomach. He hadn't expected the commissioner for another hour or more. The flights and connections from Paris must have gone well. While still shaking hands, the governor led the commissioner over to the large windows. Grant thought they looked good together, Roland and the governor, both wearing suits, and both completely comfortable rubbing elbows with other politicians. Grant saw the commissioner's eyes pass over his with recognition. The commissioner looked slightly angry. Grant knew immediately that was a bad sign.
The governor swept his arm across the panoramic view of the dam. "As you can see, my boys have almost completed the first phase of your dam extension project." He paused for effect.
Roland looked at the sandbags stacked across the top of Hoover Dam as if he were seeing a ghost. He hesitated, then reacted angrily. "Dam extension? Who authorized that?"
The governor's eyebrows furrowed. "Uh… the Bureau did." He spotted Grant and Fred, motioning toward them. "Mr. Stevens, come over―"
The commissioner cut him off and took a couple of steps toward Grant. "You authorized this?"
Grant looked up into his boss's eyes. "Yes, sir. It was the only thing we―"
"You're fired," the commissioner said quickly.
Grant heard the words, but couldn't believe it. "What?" he said.
"You heard me. You're done. I remembered specifically telling you not to make any big decisions until I got here." He turned to walk, then faced Grant again. "And you go off and come up with this crazy scheme. Unbelievable." Roland turned and started walking.
The governor watched in disbelief, then quickly grabbed Roland's arm. "Whoa, hang on a second there commissioner." Roland turned to face him. "Am I hearing that you don't approve of Mr. Steven's dam extension idea?"
"I'd call that an understatement. I've been in the Bureau for twenty five years and I've never seen anything so stupid." One of Roland's sidekicks nodded to reinforce.
The governor looked briefly at Grant, then back at the commissioner. "What should he have done?"
"Well, not that!" spat Roland, pointing again at the dike.
The governor's lips formed a sinister smile. "That's not what I asked, Mr. Commissioner." He paused for effect. "What would you have done, if you would've been here?"
The commissioner stammered, "Well, I uh — "
The governor, sensing the vulnerability, piled on. "Commissioner, as the governor of Nevada, I am formally requesting instructions from the Bureau of Reclamation. I have the bulk of Lake Powell, which I am told…" He looked briefly at Grant."… constitutes almost two full years of Colorado River flow, barreling my way as we speak. I need your organization's expertise to tell me how to save my communities, here and farther downstream. You have just insinuated that your employee gave us bad instructions. Please tell us, commissioner, what should we do instead?"
While waiting for an answer he knew wasn't coming, the governor motioned toward Grant and Fred. "Can I assume that you do not trust the calculations of your team here? If not, then how long do we have until the flood water peaks?"