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    The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2)
    The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2)
    The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2)
    Ebook383 pages6 hours

    The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2)

    By Rob Shelsky

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    About this ebook

    A bizarre radio burst from an exploding black hole brings a cryptic message from another universe. Its arrival triggers powerful forces to fight for the incredible prize. Whoever wins, will control Earth’s destiny. Agents Kyle and Jenna must fight to keep the message safe, while trying to discover its secret. When they do, they discover the Creator Code. Kyle must make a decision. Should he take the ultimate step? Does he dare become more than human? And if he does, what will it mean for all of humanity and its future for billions of years? The Creator Code, a science fiction thriller filled with action, suspense, and mystery.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPermuted
    Release dateNov 3, 2014
    ISBN9781618683991
    The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2)
    Author

    Rob Shelsky

    Rob Shelsky is an avid and eclectic writer, and averages about 4,000 words a day. He has several novels to his credit and two anthologies, with two romances out now, a Regency romance, Verity, along with the sequel, Faith, and soon to come, a time-travel romance.Rob has written science fiction articles for such magazines as The Internet Review of Science Fiction, numerous articles for AlienSkin Magazine, Neometropolis, Midnight Street (UK), Doorways, and other publications. Rob has had short stories published with Jim Baen’s Universe, Aberrant Dreams, AlienSkin, Gateway SF, Fifth Dimension, Continuum SF, Sonar4, Uncial Press, Planetary Stories, Pulp Spirit Magazine, Sex & Murder, and many more. He has a novella coming out in early 2010 with Aberrant Dreams Magazine’s first hardcover edition anthology, The Awakening. Rob’s novella, Avenger Of The People, will appear there alongside the works of such sci-fi greats as Alastair Reynolds, Ian Watson, Jana Oliver, Robert Madle, and just so many others. There is even an introduction by Jack McDevitt.Rob has a short story, Green Waters, now out with Sonar4’s Phase Shift anthology, and a paranormal story, Light On The Moor, coming out with Smashwords and Amazon.com.Now, Rob Shelsky is not only a writer, but a contributing editor for Currate.com travel articles, as well as being a reviewer for Novelspot. He is also a resident science fiction columnist for AlienSkin Magazine.Although widely traveled and continuing to travel, Rob now lives in North Carolina. He enjoys contemplating ideas for new stories while watching the sunsets over the mountains and sipping a glass of red wine, preferably a decent Merlot.Oh and check out this site for my Smashword books:Ebookswelove.com

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      The Creator Code (The Apocrypha Book 2) - Rob Shelsky

      Acknowledgement

      I would like to acknowledge my editor at Permuted Press, Matthew Baugh, who did so much hard work and so quickly to create such a polished final version of my novel. His hard work, vast storehouse of knowledge, and excellent grammar skills made for a much better book than it would have been otherwise. I’d also like to thank the illustrators there at Permuted Press for a magnificent cover, and of course, Katie, the head of the editing department, without whom, I’d be at a loss.

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      ACKNOWLEDGMENT

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER 1

      CHAPTER 2

      CHAPTER 3

      CHAPTER 4

      CHAPTER 5

      CHAPTER 6

      CHAPTER 7

      CHAPTER 8

      CHAPTER 9

      CHAPTER 10

      CHAPTER 11

      CHAPTER 12

      CHAPTER 13

      CHAPTER 14

      CHAPTER 15

      CHAPTER 16

      CHAPTER 17

      CHAPTER 18

      CHAPTER 19

      CHAPTER 20

      CHAPTER 21

      CHAPTER 22

      CHAPTER 23

      CHAPTER 24

      CHAPTER 25

      CHAPTER 26

      CHAPTER 27

      CHAPTER 28

      CHAPTER 29

      CHAPTER 30

      CHAPTER 31

      CHAPTER 32

      CHAPTER 33

      CHAPTER 34

      CHAPTER 35

      CHAPTER 36

      CHAPTER 37

      CHAPTER 38

      CHAPTER 39

      CHAPTER 40

      CHAPTER 41

      CHAPTER 42

      CHAPTER 43

      CHAPTER 44

      CHAPTER 45

      CHAPTER 46

      CHAPTER 47

      CHAPTER 48

      CHAPTER 49

      CHAPTER 50

      CHAPTER 51

      CHAPTER 52

      CHAPTER 53

      CHAPTER 54

      CHAPTER 55

      CHAPTER 56

      CHAPTER 57

      About the Author

      PROLOGUE

      Although equivalent to the sun’s entire energy output for 300,000 years, the bursts were mere blinks on the cosmic scale. Over twelve billion years passed for them to whisper their way through the eternal darkness of the vast interstellar night. Twelve billion years for those transitory waves, just a few ephemeral milliseconds in duration, to reach Earth. When they finally arrived, even as weak and as inconsequential as those fleeting bursts seemed, they would change humanity forever.

      It is said that men may not be the dreams of the god,

      but rather that the gods are the dreams of men.

      —Carl Sagan, Cosmos

      CHAPTER 1

      Phineas Bankhead was hard at work when the call came through.

      Phin, Rhys Evans’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker of the cell phone. I did what you asked.

      Thanks. That was good of you, Phineas said. He was only half listening. He was preoccupied with reading an article, Fast Radio Bursts, in his favorite scientific journal. And did you find anything useful, by chance?

      I did, but not in the way you might have thought.

      Oh, would you care to elaborate just a little more? Phineas stopped reading now. He devoted his full attention to the conversation.

      You say this radio burst was received by the Very Large Array?

      Yes, that’s what I said, the New Mexico VLA. If a mild impatience laced his tone, Phineas didn’t care. Rhys had an annoying habit, a penchant for drawing things out, often unnecessarily so, in Phineas’s opinion. He supposed Rhys did this to add a touch of the dramatic to his pronouncements.

      However, just what could be worth the dramatic touch when relating the results of standard data mining was beyond Phineas. Dryer, more mundane stuff, he couldn’t imagine.

      So what about it? he asked, when Rhys still hadn’t responded.

      Well, I don’t know quite how to explain this, but you see—

      Yes? Phineas prompted, getting impatient enough to interrupt his friend. What is it? What did you find? Tell me.

      Well, first let me explain something.

      Oh, must you?

      He heard Rhys give a light chuckle. Yes, Phin, I’m afraid I must.

      Very well, go ahead then.

      First, you know about my side interest in information theory?

      Yeah, I do, but then we all have our little foibles, so I don’t hold it against you…much.

      Seeming to ignore his acid remark, Rhys said, "Well I wasn’t getting very far with this radio burst of yours by using any of the normal methods. I mean, it’s not much to work with, being only about five milliseconds in duration.

      Trust me, he added, I tried every accepted approach. I ran all the various algorithms, even some of the more exotic ones, just for the hell of it, to see if anything at all came up.

      And? Phineas asked.

      Nothing, absolutely nothing did. Again, it just seemed to be a short blast of random noise, pretty much what one would expect from a supernova or something like that.

      So? Phineas pressed.

      So I had kind of given up by that point. I was just sort of fiddling around, playing at it, when I thought I’d use some of the information theory techniques, apply them to the data, just for the hell of it.

      Go on.

      Well, it took a while and some considerable work on my part, but a forty-five degree angle emerged when I graphed the data points from your burst.

      A forty-five degree angle? Phineas echoed.

      You know what that means? Rhys’s tone of voice sounded too calm to Phineas, too nonchalant under the circumstances, almost as if his colleague was trying to understate the immensity of what he was implying.

      Of course, I do. I’m not that singular with my obsession for cosmology. I do follow the other sciences to some degree, you know.

      Glad to hear it. Rhys said, dryly. Then you understand what I’m saying here, what I’m driving at?

      Phineas paused to consider the implications. Then, like the proverbial Mack Truck, the full force of them hit him.

      Jesus! he exclaimed. You’re joking, right? You’re trying to say there’s evidence for language involved here somehow. Are you sure?

      Well, no, not absolutely, but sure as I can be under the circumstances. That’s why I took the whole week, to check and double check. Crazy stuff, huh? But it would seem to be the case. Barring any major screw-ups on my part, the preliminary results appear correct.

      Holy shit! It was all Phineas could think to say.

      Holy shit, indeed. Rhys then cleared his throat, and added, Damned incredible, isn’t it? But that isn’t even the whole story. Finding the angle made me go further. I massaged the data a bit more to see if I could find anything else along those lines. And you know what? I think the burst comes across as garbage, just a blast of noise, because of a high compression factor.

      Phineas whistled, long and low, then asked, Are you certain about that?

      Hell, no, I’m not sure, not yet, not by a long shot. How could I be? Right now, it’s more just an indication. I need to work with the data more to find out. Are you agreeable to that? Do I have your permission to continue at this point, given what I’ve just told you?

      Phineas’s answer was immediate, without his even having to think about it. Of course, he said. You’re the better mathematician by far and you’re a part of this now. You know for the life of me, I didn’t expect anything like this.

      Phineas heard a profound sigh come through the phone’s speaker.

      Then, Neither did I, Phin, my friend. Neither did I. This has thrown me for a complete loop. Honestly, I was just playing around. I had no inkling anything like this would come of it. But you know I have an interest in the SETI program, so—

      So you just couldn’t resist the idea of checking to see if it was a message from aliens?

      Yep. That’s about it. Good thing, too, huh? Now I’m anxious to get to work on this again, but it would help to have some other sources to go by, if only for comparison purposes. You understand how it is. Just one sample might be called an aberration, some weird sort of anomaly, or even a hoax. Do you have any more?

      Ah, you’re in luck there, or maybe I should say we are. I have copies of four others, as well. They date back about a decade or so, but they should help, if just as a baseline for you. I’ll get them to you ASAP.

      The sooner the better, but Phineas, Rhys added, but then fell silent.

      Yes? Phineas prompted again. What? What is it?

      "I wouldn’t say anything about this to anyone just yet. I could well be wrong, could have made some stupid mistake. Your other samples might well show this to be just a fluke. But if it’s true, then this is truly momentous. Either way, we’d better make damn sure we have all our ducks in a row before we go public in any way.

      And Phineas, Rhys continued, If this forty-five degree angle holds up, then when it comes to the idea of there being other intelligent life in the universe, all bets are off.

      Phineas didn’t answer immediately. He was too stunned. He wasn’t even sure if any of this was happening, so surreal was it all. Could this be some sort of sick joke on Rhys’s part?

      Was it possible? Could a Lorimer Wave provide evidence for alien communication? The thought was overwhelming when one considered the ramifications, the inconceivable repercussions. He toyed with the idea of telling Rhys the source of the radio burst, but then decided it would be better to wait a little.

      Take it a step at a time, he thought, and err on the side of caution. Keep him approaching this with as unbiased an attitude as possible.

      Phineas? You still there?

      Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking. Look, let’s have some drinks later and talk this through. I’ll meet you at your company parking lot when you get off work, same spot where we meet when we go golfing. You’re off about five, right?

      Yeah. I’ll make it a point to be waiting there for you.

      Good. And, Rhys, you’re right. I’ll bring you the other bursts on a flash drive. The less we talk about this over the phone, through texting, or send stuff by email about it, the better off we may be.

      After saying goodbye, Phineas ended the call. He sat at his desk, the article he was reading now forgotten. His initial surprise, his shock was over, and so he couldn’t help wondering if Rhys hadn’t slipped a mental cog or something, because all this just seemed so damned unlikely. If true, though, they’d have to keep a lid on it until they were certain. To do otherwise, would be worse than foolish. Their careers were at stake here.

      Yes, they’d have to be careful, circumspect. Even so, Phineas did want to email the news to just one person before his self-imposed embargo on such communications started. She, as he always thought of her, would have to know.

      He opened his email program, selected the appropriate contact from a password-protected list, and began typing. When finished, he sent the message to Vera Bennington at DARPA Headquarters.

      There, he said aloud. That’s taken care of that.

      CHAPTER 2

      Despite his promise, Rhys was a little late getting to leave. Always, something just had to be done at the last minute whenever he wanted to leave early. When finished, having sent the needed yesterday analysis onto the next department, he stood. He gave a quick stretch to relieve aching muscles. Then he grabbed his coat and shrugged into it.

      As he did this, he glanced out his office window. Rhys could see the first flush of people to leave the building had already occurred. From this height, they looked minuscule as they headed for their tiny cars.

      Rhys had made it a point to check the view at regular intervals as he finished up the file he’d been working on. He had not seen Phineas’s Black Mariah, as he thought of the classic Lincoln Continental, come gliding like a great dark shark into the parking lot. That Nile River barge would have been hard to miss, especially since it would have been going contrary to the flow of traffic exiting the parking lot.

      Rhys wasn’t too concerned. Phineas was often late. It was a persistent habit of his, or so it seemed. Rhys often teased him about his punctuality, or rather the lack of it. In this case, it was a good thing, though, because so was he. Still, Rhys felt there was no comparison between them. He doubted if his friend could be on time to save his own soul.

      Just before leaving, Rhys remembered to turn off the computer. As he did so, he glanced again out the window. A black vehicle was entering the parking lot, but it wasn’t a Lincoln Continental, just another SUV. Sometimes, Rhys thought the things must have been breeding for there to be so many on the roads these days.

      They’re all so alike, he thought, as he headed for the elevators. They all looked the same and they all guzzled gas in just the same way—to an extreme.

      Minutes later, he exited the glass and concrete structure, his home for eight hours a day, five days a week. He headed for his car, a Toyota Prius. He always parked the vehicle off to one side to protect it from other people, who in their rush coming and going, swung their vehicle’s doors too wide and so could bang or damage his car. Everyone always seemed in a rush these days. They were in a rush in the morning to get to their jobs and then another stampede in the reverse at quitting time.

      The relative isolation of his vehicle meant Rhys had to walk a little further. He didn’t mind. With all the sitting he had to do at his desk all day long, walking was a welcome relief. He enjoyed the exercise, even if the fall air was a little too brisk for comfort this evening. The usual thick clouds, the marine layer, as the weather service called it, had moved in earlier in the afternoon. The temperature had dropped.

      At least, all was quiet now. The parking lot was already deserted. Just a few stragglers still drove toward the exit at the far end of the vast paved area. A couple of vehicles still parked in their original positions meant their owners must have been working late.

      Poor bastards, he thought. Among the remaining cars was the black SUV, the one he’d noticed from his office window. He couldn’t see if anyone was inside. Dark tinted windows hid the interior. This gave the car a malevolent appearance. Rhys wasn’t sure why, but to him, black cars with tinted windows always had rather an evil look about them.

      Just as he reached his Prius, he saw Phineas enter the parking lot. His great dark car swept around the curve of the entrance and headed for him. The Lincoln pulled up next to where he stood by his own vehicle.

      The heavy thrum of the engine ceased. A moment later, the driver’s side door opened. Phineas clambered out.

      The short balding man granted Rhys a brief smile, which made him look like a happy Humpty Dumpty.

      I’m a little late, he said. You been waiting long?

      Just a little, Rhys lied, rather than admit he had been late, too. You brought the flash drive?

      Phineas nodded. He fished into his right coat pocket with a gloved hand and withdrew a USB drive.

      Here it is. He handed the memory stick over to Rhys. And remember to take your own advice. Keep this all under your hat.

      Well, there’s an old expression if ever I heard one. Rhys pocketed the device. You ready to get going? Then a thought struck him. Oh, damn! I forgot my keys. I have to go back up and get them.

      Phineas gave him a slight frown, and then said, "Well, be quick about it. I’m dying for some Bourbon.

      Rhys nodded. I’ll be back in a flash, he tossed over his shoulder, as he hurried back across the parking lot.

      CHAPTER 3

      For once, Rhys did hurry, although it went against his grain to do so. Still, he didn’t like to keep Phineas waiting. His respect, and yes, he had to admit, his awe for the man forbade this.

      Rhys was sure that someday, Phineas would win a Nobel Prize. The man was brilliant. Not that Rhys was what anyone could call mentally deficient. He knew he was well above average in intelligence. However, Rhys was also aware Phineas was in a class by himself, far above even him in IQ level.

      Recognizing this ability had been what had first drawn Rhys to Phineas, the one great attribute of an otherwise rather nondescript and egg-shaped, little man. Only later, after associating with him professionally, had they become real friends.

      Yes, Phineas could be arrogant at times, cold, as well as abrupt. Rhys accepted this as a part of the man’s makeup. Perhaps, such abruptness came from impatience. Rhys could well imagine how hard it could be for someone of Phineas’s vast intellect to have to deal with lesser mortals all the time. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Phineas was destined for a Nobel Prize.

      The radio bursts they were now investigating together might just well be the means of this achievement. Secretly, Rhys couldn’t help but hope he might be along for the ride, as well.

      Rhys had a flash of a mental image of him standing there alongside of Phineas before the Nobel Prize Committee in Stockholm, and the King of Sweden, handing him an award. A pleasant daydream, he felt.

      Reaching his office, he opened the top, left-hand drawer of his desk and grabbed up his keys. He turned to leave, but just as he did, he caught a glimpse of something strange. He stopped, turned back, and gazed down upon the events unfolding in the parking lot below.

      During his absence, the SUV had pulled up alongside of Phineas’s Black Mariah. Two men, their faces hidden by the baseball caps they wore, had emerged from the vehicle. They hailed his friend.

      Rhys saw Phineas, who had his back to them; turn around just as they came up to him. Suddenly, without warning, the two grabbed him, each one seizing an arm. He saw Phineas give a visible start of surprise. Then he struggled against this outrage, but the little man was unable to resist the two much bigger men. They started dragging him toward their SUV.

      Stop! Rhys shouted through the thick glass of the window. Then realizing this would do no good whatsoever, he made a dash for the elevators. He had to help Phineas. Whatever was happening down there wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all.

      As the elevator dropped toward the ground floor, Rhys realized just what was going on. Phineas was the victim of a kidnapping attempt. There was no other rational explanation.

      The doors to the car opened and Rhys rushed across the expanse of marble flooring of the vast lobby for the exit. He headed for the main doors. He shoved them open and ran outside. There, at the edge of the sidewalk bordering the parking lot, Rhys stopped.

      Of the two men, Phineas Bankhead, the SUV, and the Black Mariah, there was now no sign. All had vanished. Rhys’s Prius now stood there alone at the far corner of the parking lot, as if it had always stood there just that way, a solitary thing.

      Not knowing what else to do, he walked toward his car, feeling stunned, overwhelmed by what had just happened. Then the full force of realization hit him. Rhys had to call the police.

      Even as he pulled out his cell phone to do just this, he heard a screeching sound in the distance, as of a car taking a corner too rapidly. The sound of acceleration followed, the revving of an engine, but then this faded into the distance. Rhys just stood there all alone in the parking lot, his phone to his ear, waiting for the emergency dispatcher at 911 to answer.

      All the time, he wondered who those men were. Why had they wanted to kidnap Phineas, and why now? They must have known he was coming here to arrive ahead of him like that, but how? How had they known? What did they want with him—ransom?

      Such a thing seemed unlikely. Phineas, as most academics, wasn’t wealthy and he had no family to speak of who could raise money to win his release. Even his wife was long dead of cancer.

      Questions—there were just too many questions and with no immediate answers. The only thing Rhys did feel certain about was this was no random event, no coincidence. Somehow, it had to do with the radio bursts. He felt sure of this. But how could they have known? Had Phineas told someone?

      A woman’s voice spoke from his phone. At last, he could transfer the responsibility to professionals. The police would know what to do. Or so Rhys hoped.

      CHAPTER 4

      The police interview left Rhys wondering if cops, as an institution, were even worth still having. They seemed useless. Was it police in general or just the two detectives he had dealt with, who were so incapable of listening to what someone had to say? Rhys felt he had failed to convince them of Phineas Bankhead’s abduction.

      They had kept asking him if he was certain about it being an actual kidnapping. Had he, perhaps, just misconstrued the way events had played out? Rather than asking for more details, they kept pushing this scenario, his misunderstanding of what had taken place. Nothing he could say would seem to convince them otherwise.

      Oh, they took his information. At least, the female detective had been busy tapping something into her tablet. Whether it had anything to do with his reporting a kidnapping, Rhys couldn’t be sure. For all Rhys knew, she might have been playing Angry Birds.

      By the time the interview had ended, Rhys had all he could handle just to keep his frustration and temper in check. He had the distinct impression they didn’t believe him or didn’t believe he had seen a kidnapping. Either way, he felt it amounted to pretty much the same thing in their eyes. He gave them his contact information. The two detectives promised they’d let him know if there were any developments. Then they left.

      Rhys, alone once more, was at a loss. So what was he supposed to do now? It was Friday night. Should he just stay there and brood, or should he go out alone and have a drink, try to forget the whole thing?

      He could try searching for Phineas on his own, but he knew such an effort would lead nowhere. For starters, Rhys had no idea who the kidnappers were, or where they came from, or even where they had taken his colleague. No, Rhys had already done what he could do. He had informed the police.

      What he needed to do was to think, to consider the ramifications of all this. Rhys needed some quiet time. He reached a sudden decision. He’d go over to the desert to where he’d parked his fifth-wheel RV. Rhys liked the desert. At this time of the year, San Diego suffered from overcast skies, the so-called June gloom, although again, it was autumn now. However, the desert would be bright and drenched in sunshine, and Rhys was a sun worshipper.

      Yes, he could go there and think things through. Moreover, he might even work further on the problem of the radio bursts. He felt Phineas would want him to keep up his research.

      The thought of Phineas started the cycle of worry all over again. What had happened to him? Why had they kidnapped him? For what reason had they taken him?

      Again, the answer always seemed to come back to the idea of it having something to do with the radio bursts. Had Phineas told someone else about them? Had this resulted in the kidnapping? Rhys had no way of knowing. All he could do was try to figure out just what it all meant. He could do this just as well in Ocotillo Wells as he could here in San Diego.

      There, Rhys would feel more comfortable and oddly, safer. Why he felt this last, he couldn’t say, but the desert beckoned to him, as an oasis might to a thirsty traveler in the Sahara. Yes, he’d leave town.

      Rhys drove his Prius to his apartment on Carroll Canyon Road. The place was one of thousands just like it, endless blocks of buildings three-stories high, with row upon row of apartments and condominiums. They blotted out any natural landscape clear to the horizon.

      He pulled into his assigned parking space. He stopped just long enough at his home to pick up essentials he felt he would need for the weekend. Rhys kept the trailer well stocked, so he didn’t need much. He did need his laptop and some fresh food.

      Taking all of this, he loaded it into the back seat of his Prius. He checked to make sure he had the flash drive Phineas had given him as he settled into the driver’s seat.

      Rhys headed out on I-8, traveling eastward, toward Alpine. Already, he felt better. At one point, he almost managed to half-convince himself of the fact the detectives had been right, that he had just misunderstood events, what he had seen in the parking lot.

      Of course, being of a realistic mind, he soon dismissed this idea again. Rhys knew better. He had seen what he had seen. Those two men had taken Phineas by force. Rhys had no idea how to find Phineas. Nevertheless, he felt sure the police would contact him again once they realized a kidnapping had taken place.

      After all, he was their only lead. Maybe by then, he would have more information to give them about the radio bursts or so Rhys hoped. Who knew, perhaps the secret of his abduction, at least the reason for it lay in those recordings.

      His trip up into the Cuyamaca Mountains was uneventful. Traffic was light. The landscape about him became rugged, more barren, as he drove. What little green there was around the outskirts of San Diego, now gave way to the much drier conditions of the inland area. Just large jumbles of a seemingly endless supply of boulders littered the hilly landscape. That, and brown-yellow brush was all there was to be seen. Brushfires were a common and dangerous phenomenon in this area, Rhys knew. Sometimes, they threatened the city, itself.

      He passed Alpine, and in doing so, Rhys left most of the vast sprawling suburbs and bedroom communities ringing San Diego behind him. Only when Rhys drove through the pass, and the area took on more of the semblance of true desert-like conditions, did his mind ease some.

      Rhys disliked crowds. Besides his love of sunshine, this was one of the reasons the desert attracted him. Although plenty of weekenders drove there, even their numbers were as nothing compared to the hordes of city dwellers that remained on the coast and the beaches there.

      In the time Rhys had lived in San Diego, he’d watched the place become a sprawling, massive metropolis. Once individual and quaint little communities now had all acquired the cancer of urban sprawl and had become part of the greater San Diego area.

      Paradise lost, he thought. A city by the sea was now a gargantuan metropolis struggling with its own limitations.

      The quality of life is strained, he thought, paraphrasing Shakespeare. Rhys knew one thing. When it was time for him to retire, he didn’t want to do it in such a place.

      At last, he started his descent. The long grade, interrupted by only a few more hills, brought him down into the more elevated area of the desert, Ocotillo Wells. It was near here he had his fifth-wheel. In the summer, he would keep the RV in the storage area of a nearby trailer park, Linger Longer, but he would pull it out each winter. A local with a pickup truck and fifth wheel trailer hitch did the job for him. Rhys would have the old duffer park the RV somewhere on the desert, in a different spot each time. Why not? When one had mobility, why not use it to one’s advantage?

      Traveling down the bumpy dirt road, he found his ultra-light RV parked where he

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