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INCIDENT AT CONFUSION PASS

The odometer straddled eighty as the white sedan cruised westward on the remote
two lane highway. Isolation was never a concern for the driver, for it was an emotion he was used to. Savoring in the euphoria of being under nature's magnificent bowl of the sky, a distant sign post slowly magnified as it rushed closer. The script was barely perceived as it went by. "The Confusion Mountains." A hearty laugh easily came to him as he proclaimed: "I am not in that state at all!"

Nearly all was perfect at Confusion Pass. The route was the long way home to
Southern California, away from the constraint of the interstate. A reward earned for a wonderful weekend in Yellowstone with close friends. How he loved opening the cover
of an unexplored adventure, enjoying the passing hills and distant mountains for the first time, fresh with the scent of a sunny afternoon in western Utah.

The night's destination was the city of Ely, birthplace of his recently departed mother. Curious of how the place had transformed since he was last there, the pull of Ely's gravity was drawing him closer. Reaching deep into a lifetime's inventory of memories, he tried to recollect any stock of the place he visited some thirty years ago. That was a feat, since those shelves were now either lost or bare. His destination was less than three hours away.

Square in his sight, the amber warning light, centered in the dashboard, clicked on for just a few seconds.

This was an attack on all the senses. A world turned upside down. It began as if a frayed rope inside in his throat had tightened. Steel needles of stone cold fright sprinted in every vein and reached every nerve ending. He could focus his eyes only a few feet in front of him. The distraction of the radio was replaced with silence and the fearful scan for any sound that could lead to impending doom.

All of his thoughts were dancing with disaster. The impression of driving on the bottom of the ocean with the weight of the sea on his shoulders seemed more of a reality than just some dreary metaphor. Being stranded alone, a hundred miles from help, was the frenzy that was swimming around in his head. He never wanted to hook it. "What was I doing on this road?"

His apprehensions changed his voyage to a risk that was light years from the
extinguishing reward. "Why Now?" Doubting his recent actions now was part of this
game. "If the light appeared back on I-15, I would be safer and closer to home," he
scolded himself. More questions

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