Fred Grainger led them out of the visitor's center. The dry 110-degree heat hit Grant like a wave, then radiated into his body. He shielded his eyes and wished for a pair of sunglasses. Looking at Fred holding the door, who seemed to be unaffected by either the heat or the glare, he guessed the locals got used to it. Grant waited while the governor, his entourage, a couple of security guards, and a few Hoover Dam technicians came outside. Fred led them toward the crest of the dam. Since Grant's speech to the governor, US-93 had been closed, and the top of the dam was now devoid of vehicles. They followed Fred on the sidewalk that stretched along the edge of the dam. After walking several hundred feet, Fred stopped and they all looked down into BlackCanyon. All twelve outlets were now open, six on each side, their spray crossing in the middle as they doused both sides of the canyon walls. With all outlets open, a wall of water covered the view farther down the river. After the governor's approval, Fred had radioed the command to open the gates and gradually the Nevada gates were opened.

"Okay, everything's open as you requested," said Fred, pointing downstream.

The tension in the group had dropped noticeably. Seeing the water spraying across the canyon created a magical feeling that made them forget about the reason for the show. Grant saw the governor point to where water was hitting the cliffs and dispersing in all directions.

While the group watched downstream, Grant glanced sideways toward the visitor center, and saw a petite woman with glasses walking toward them. He recognized her immediately as Shauna Kingsly, the employee he had sent for from the Bureau in Denver. She had made good time. He saw her eyes scan the group nervously. He walked away from the group to meet her and he saw her eyes light up when she recognized him.

The best description for Shauna Kingsly was plain. Her hair was straight and parted in the middle. The lack of makeup and the loose fitting clothes completed the impression of a librarian. However, the two pens in her shirt pocket suggested another image: a woman civil engineer, not that all female engineers look like nerds. They didn't, even at the Bureau. It was just a stereotype. But Shauna Kingsly fit the stereotype perfectly.

He met her on the sidewalk. "Any trouble getting here?"

She turned and pointed up the road. "The cops wouldn't let the taxi through. They ferried me down here themselves."

"Where are your bags?" he asked.

She pointed back to the visitor center. "I left them in there."

"Any trouble checking out a computer?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Not after I told them why I needed it."

That morning when he asked her to try to get a notebook computer, the thought hadn't occurred to him that for the moment he was the most important person at the Bureau of Reclamation. It was amazing how status helped cut through bureaucracy. No wonder the commissioner didn't seem as concerned with the red tape in the Bureau as the employees. He had probably never experienced it.

"Stevens!" Someone yelled from behind.

Grant turned and saw the governor approaching.

"Are you happy now?" the governor asked, pointing to the spray in the canyon. It seemed like the pompous attitude had melted away from Rally Jenkins, and that he held no animosity for the episode in the visitor center.

Grant looked at the spray, then across the dam to the Arizona side. The next recommendation would be a tough sell. "We're not done yet." He said. "Follow me."

Grant started walking back toward the visitor center, motioning for the governor to follow. The entire group followed, looking curious. Although vehicle traffic had been stopped across the dam, Grant looked both directions anyway before crossing US-93 to the upstream side of the dam. The group followed. He walked off the Nevada edge of the dam and right past the statue. They walked past the small tourist store on the left and a snack bar on the right. He continued walking through the employee parking lot until he reached the chain-link fence against the rock mountain. The fence prevented tourists from falling seventy feet into the trough leading to the Nevada spillway tunnel.

"Now we need to open these up." Grant pointed his left hand over the fence and into the Nevada spillway, and with his right across the river to the Arizona spillway.

Grant saw Fred wrinkle his brows and hesitate, then finally answer. It was a response Grant expected. "Grant, we can't open these. They don't have gates." Fred looked embarrassed at needing to explain why. "The water can only get in the spillway tunnels if it gets high enough to get over that spillway itself, over there." He pointed to a cement wall preventing Lake Mead from entering the trough. "We'll have to wait until the water rises another thirty or forty feet."

Grant nodded. "Oh they'll open all right. They just need a little help. We need to get some demolition guys in here."

The governor came back to life. "Let's get this straight, you want us to blow up the spillways?"

"That's exactly what I want to do governor."

He looked skeptical. "How much difference exactly would it make, Mr. Stevens? Are you sure that your boss, the commissioner, would make the same recommendation?"

Grant could see that attitude was as natural to Rally Jenkins, as breathing was to the general population. "Governor, I have no idea what the commissioner would recommend. I would hope that he would make the same recommendation, since it's the only possible strategy. As far as what difference, the report said sixty feet of water would breach this dam. We have two things going for us here. First, the report assumed the dam would be full as a worst case scenario, and second, we have a twenty four hour warning to dump water, of which we have already wasted almost three hours." Grant slowed down and tried to choose his words carefully. "Governor, if we can reduce the amount of water that ends up going over the dam by - let's say a few feet, it may be the difference between Hoover Dam failing or not."

Grant saw Fred walk over and peer into the spillways, then glance back at the wall holding the water from entering. He put one of his fingers in his mouth and looked like he was going to chew on his fingernail. Like waking from a trance, he straightened, bringing his hands back down, and looked at the governor. "He's right, Governor. I agree with Mr. Stevens."

The governor looked around the group for dissenting views. He also turned and looked at the concrete spillways. He spun and looked back at the crest of the Hoover Dam itself. Grant wondered if the governor might be visualizing sixty feet of water going over the top of the dam.

The governor held out his hands. "Anyone know any demolition guys?"

* * *

As the Mastercraft rounded the bend in DanglingRopeCanyon, Julie saw the marina. It was unbelievable. She had never seen it that crowded before. Boats were stacked triple deep around the dock and there were at least a hundred people mulling around on the platform.

Dangling Rope Marina, which is accessible only by water, had limited resources. The floating docks were configured like a big cross, with a small grocery store, restrooms and a ranger station at the intersection, a sewage pump-out on the right, a repair facility on the left, a ramp to the shore on top, and the floating fuel station midway down the long bottom section. A state of the art photovoltaic power generation system on the hill powered the marina, with battery backup and propane generators for sunless days.

Greg pulled back the throttle and stood up in exasperation. "What's going on?"

Paul stood behind him. "This is crazy."

Julie touched her husband's arm. "Do we have enough gas to come back later when it's not so crowded?"

He shook his head. "No, Julie. Besides, something's wrong. We need to find out what it is."

He accelerated toward the frenzy of boats. When they approached the dock, Greg slowed to minimize the effect of the wake. Julie saw arms waving and she heard yelling as they approached. She heard someone say something about whose turn it was. Suddenly, a blue boat exited recklessly from the mass, and after seeing daylight, sped past them aiming for the main channel. The cluster of boats collapsed immediately, filling the previously occupied space. Julie guessed that the blue boat had either finally gotten his fuel, or had given up waiting.

When the Mastercraft pulled up next to the other boats, Greg called out to the driver of the boat next to them. "Where's the end of the line?"

"There isn't a line," the man said. He motioned at the mass. "It's every man for himself."

Greg grimaced. "What's going on anyway? Why the crowd?"

The man perked up. "You haven't heard about downstream?"

Greg shook his head. "No. We saw the water had dropped, but we didn't know why. What happened?"

"Somebody blew up the dam!"

Julie wondered if she had heard wrong. "What?"

"So the dam is leaking?" Paul asked.

The man exaggerated a nod. "The dam is more than leaking, it's gone."

"The Glen Canyon Dam is completely gone?" Greg asked.

"Yup. That's the word." The man motioned at the other boats. "And everybody is filling up and heading out before they get --" The man was interrupted and yelled at the boat behind. "Hey, watch it buddy."

Julie looked at her husband. "What does that mean? Should we just go?" She wondered if they had enough gas to get back to Wahweap where the truck was parked.

Greg checked the gas gauge and shook his head. "There's no way. We don't even have enough gas to make it back to the houseboat."

Paul interrupted. "Are you sure we should even try to leave?" Wouldn't it be safer to just wait it out?"

"Wait for what?" Greg asked. "To get stranded someplace up here on the rocks, fifty miles from civilization?"

"Yeah, but if we head down river, we could get pulled over the dam, couldn't we?

Julie didn't like the way that sounded. "Maybe he's right Greg."

Erika nodded.

Greg turned back to the man in the boat next to them, who had been listening to the argument. "What are you guys doing?"

The man pointed south. "As soon as we get some gas, we're heading home. We might not make it to Wahweap, but we're going to try to get as close as possible, Warm Creek maybe, PadreBay for sure."

"Wouldn't it be safer to wait for help?" Paul asked.

"From who?" The man said. "Do you have any idea how many people will need rescuing? You could be waiting for weeks."

Greg looked at Julie. "He's right honey, we need to take care of ourselves."

Paul nodded as if he concurred.

Julie looked at the mob of boats waiting for gas. "Well, we better get in line then."

* * *