Diamonds in Baja preview 3 - Red Rock

Jerry and Irene breached the pass and headed down the long steep slope to Mojave. The damp Pacific air was gone. The desert air left their nostrils dry.

The town of Mojave had not changed much. It still had its offbeat charm. A major desert T-intersection of two highways with too long a freight haul to interest the franchise people and just enough business to keep the locals going.

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Heading northeast on the Red Rock Randsburg Road, Irene scanned the desert for jackalope, or was it antelope. “Turn around now, Geraldo!”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“¡Órale! There’s a train coming. A big one! It’ll take a long time to climb the mountain. You could beat it up the hill and wait for it and take a picture of it doing the yoga thing.”

“Naw! Look at how long the shadows are. We need to make camp soon.”

“Are we still going to stay at that Red Rock place?”

“¡Sí! ¡Piedra Roja!”

Jerry tried the radio again. KSMG out of Los Angeles could be heard intermittently between the static.

“. . . sscchhiitt. . . Now turning to California news. K-Smog News has just learned that earlier today a Department of Corrections bus was blown over, by a freak gust of wind shear, on a road near Oakland.

Frank Gunderson, was onboard the bus and is reported missing. You may recall that Frank car-jacked, and brutally murdered, a diamond broker at a gas station in Baker, six years ago. After the killing, he was apprehended near Panamint Springs. His two cohorts had been apprehended earlier at a brothel in Pahrump. From what they told the arresting officers, it was believed that Frank had hidden the diamonds, believed to be worth forty-four million dollars at the time, in the general vicinity of Eastern Mojave and Death Valley, after skipping out on his comrades.

Frank is also the famous charismatic leader of the Jagged-Cross, a convict-centered religious cult, that believes that convicts will inherit God’s. . . sscchhiitt. . . Paroled members of the cult are known for the jagged-Cross logo on their motorcycle jackets. The cult further believed that Frank. . . sscchhiitt. . . Mojave.

His two cohorts, Arturo Mendez and Mose Jefferson, are serving out their plea bargained parole sentences in Riverside and San Bernardino counties respectively.

Frank was en route from San Quentin to Soledad to start a new chapter of his cult.

Rely on K-Smog to keep you informed on all your local late breaking news. Turning to sports. The Los Angeles Lakers announced. . . sscchhiitt. . . sign a contract with. . . sscchhiitt. . . Head Coach. . . sshheezz. . . Yau Ming. . . sshheezz. . . sscchhiitt. . . hit five under par. . . sshheezz. . . sshheezz. . . sshheezz. . .”

Jerry gave up on the radio and switched it off.

“Jeez! Sweetheart! That’s the guy who almost heet you!”

“Maybe! Maybe not! Do you know how many ex-convicts live in the Sierra foothills? I remember one time up at Negro Bar, near Folsom. I almost got kill. . .!”

“You’re gonna miss your turn!”

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Red Rock was the red cliff wall that sheltered the campground from prevailing Pacific winds. Little caves could be seen high up on the wall face. To the West was the high country of the southern Sierra foothills. They encountered the sudden drop at the red wall. To the east was the great expanse of the Mojave Desert.

Irene, “So what do hyou wan’ for dinner tonight, Señor”?

“Why don’t you fix some hash browns, beans and carrots? That way in the morning you can swap some bacon for the carrots and have breakfast without that much extra fuss.”

“And I suppose you are going to take pictures?”

“Well, I need to put up the kitchen, put up the beds, and get ready for the dark. They don’t seem to have any lights in this campground and it’s a new moon tonight. But you’re right. The light is fading fast. I had better take some pictures first.”

“And I have to cook in the dark?”

“I’ll fix up the lantern for you!”

Jerry shot a few exposures of the fading landscape as the clouds put on their crimson evening clothes, and then helped set up the kitchen. Then he turned to the cots.

Irene scolded,“What did you bring those stupid things for? They take up all the space in the car?”

“Scorpions!”

“Scorpions? Are they deadly?”

“Never know! Mostly, around here, they have Mojave Greens. They won’t kill you but you’ll wish they had. Nevertheless, there are a few rare scorpions around that could kill you. Just be careful. Put all of your clothes and shoes on the folding chair by your cot, and be sure to shake them upside down if you get up in the night to pee, or when you get up in the morning.”

“scree. . . scree. . . scree. . . scree”

Irene jumped. “Now what?”

“Bats!”

Flying rodents could be seen emerging from small caves on the cliff face. They seemed to be everywhere as they screeched with their radar voices.

“Are they vampires?”

“whooo”

“The bats!”

“Oh, I thought you meant the owl.”

A cream-colored owl, glided effortlessly among the trees in the dark.

“I don’t know! Keep an eye on them and duck if any start diving at you. You better get some good sleep Irene, ‘cause it’s your turn to drive tomorrow.”

The night was warm. Jerry and Irene lay side-by-side watching the bats against the fading twilight crimson of the dissipating clouds.

Just before they dozed off they, heard rodents scurrying around on the ground. Irene said she hoped they were not packrats. Soon the young tourists were sleeping like baby coyotes. Irene’s pants were hung carelessly off the edge of the campstool, where they reached all the way to the ground.