Mystery of the Sunset Limited

Abstract

This work will serve examine the known and unknown factors based on data surrounding the Sunset Limited train derailment occurring October, 25^th 1995 some 75 miles outside of Phoenix, Arizona. The attempted identification of potential suspects will be explored as well as the possible motivations for carrying out the act. Each of these will be supported by available resources highlighting this terrible incident. 

Mystery of the Sunset Limited

What We Know

            The Sunset Limited train derailment occurred near the desert town of Palo Verde Arizona, claiming the life of one rail worker; Mitchell Bates (Enea, 2016). In addition to the long time rail worker’s death, the sabotage injured a dozen other passengers seriously, and included minor injuries to 100 others (McCabe, 2015). Though the train was traveling in a remote section of Arizona, with little in the way of population to be had, the Amtrak-operated cars were carrying 258 passengers when they left the track.

            Following the accident, investigators determined the crash was caused by tampering with the tracks the Sunset Limited used in countless journeys beforehand. Specifically, bolts were removed along a curved section of the track that made a 3 foot long connecting bar unstable for the cars to travel upon (Mydans, 1995).

            In another important discovery, 4 hand written notes calling out various local and national law enforcement organizations were found at the scene. A group calling themselves the “Sons of Gestapo” claimed responsibility (Enea, 2016).

Developing a Suspect(s)

            While much speculation has been made concerning the “who done it” around this case within the past 23 years, the FBI has had little in the way of activity on solving the crime.     

            The Inside Job. When Amtrak official Thomas M. Downs was interviewed about the matter he offered the idea of internal tampering, or corporate sabotage. "I don't know if this is a disgruntled employee of ours or another railroad, or someone else,"(Mydans, 1995).

            While Downs’ statement does not completely rule out the possibility of outside interference, it does at least allude to the fact that the person(s) responsible would have to have some knowledge of the workings of the railroad, exploitation of the track’s curvature at the point that it was tampered with, and the timing of the railcars.

            Terrorist Agenda. Who are (were) the Sons of the Gestapo? Mysterious right wing fanatics? A clandestine anti-government organization? Or a distraction meant to throw federal investigators off the trail of the true perpetrators?

            The truth is no one knows. A cursory search via the mighty internet and widely used social media outlets yields few results.

            However, one article claims to have found at least a few Arizona residents who have knowledge of members of the Sons operating in and around Gila Bend, Arizona (Wood, 1995). Although, this “report” must be taken with a grain of salt as it is rife with stereotypical ideas about Arizona citzens, generalizations about rural living and absent of key interviewees as on the record. To demonstrate, the piece goes so far as to refer to Arizona as a “safe haven” for the gun-toting disenfranchised (Wood, 1995).

            Random Act. Is it possible that a random individual or group carried out this attack on a whim?

            As stated, the derailment occurred at a near-abandoned locale, devoid of potential witnesses. This location would be ideal for someone wanting to cause chaos with little fear of being seen. It may also be indicative of a lack of higher-level planning necessary to carry out the attack in a more populated point along the route.

Potential Motivation

            As mentioned the 4 page typed “manifesto” left at the scene outlined distrust and distain for both local and national law enforcement. However, by itself how might the sabotage of Sunset Limited connect with the views expressed in the letter?

            The Inside Job? The Sunset Limited itself is no stranger to the news. The route runs through several major metropolitan areas. According to Amtrak’s website heavily populated cities such as Los Angeles, Tucson, San Antonio, Houston, New Orleans, Orlando are key stops from coast to coast (National Railroad Passenger Corporation, 2018). Further, the cars pass through several other hubs: Palm Springs, El Paso and Pomona. 

            The path of tracks now known as Sunset Limited was first created back in 1874. Amtrak assumed control of the route in 1971(National Railroad Passenger Corporation, 2018). During that time the Sunset Limited transcontinental route has had more than its share of misfortune. One year before the incident in Arizona, the route suffered a prior crash in Mobile, Alabama, due to a barge colliding with the Big Bayou Canot bridge. The Sunset Limited traveled onto the bridge shortly after it began collapsing. This is widely regarded as Amtrak’s deadliest crash to date, as it took the lives of 47 passengers (Labaton, 1994).

            However, it is important to note this fatal incident was not the work of saboteurs as investigators charged barge operator Willie Odom with gross negligence (Labaton, 1994).

            Conversely, lending credence to Mr. Downs’ theory is Amtrak’s rocky relationship with its union-backed employees. The company has had several union disputes over pay, benefits and safety, with more than one of them making national news and threatening to delay passenger and freight travel.

            As recently as this month, union officials are still battling Amtrak’s parent company; National Railroad Passenger Corporation, for what they consider subcontracting practices that subverts the utilization of union employees (Dodd, 2018).

copyright Amtrak

            Terrorist Agenda? “Sons of Gestapo” has a nice neo-Nazi ring to it. If the Sons ever did exist- or still do- they have an uncanny knack for flying under the radar.

            This ability runs counter to most terrorist groups (domestic or otherwise), as typically they usually follow up a first attack with consecutive ones. You might hear tales of recruitment, propaganda, indoctrination and threats against the establishment. With the so-called Sons of Gestapo the trail runs cold, even lacking so much as participating in public protests.

            Also, if the goal of a terrorist, operating alone, or in a group is to bring attention to its cause/belief system, why sabotage the tracks in such a remote area? Why not take the time and brood over additional plans in order to maximize the resulting carnage and media coverage?

            However, let me be clear this writer is not asking these questions as a challenge to anyone that might take up the Son’s mantle. They are being asked only as relevant to the ongoing investigation as a terrorist attack.

            Random Act? While we love to think there is a grandiose scheme at play, it is worthwhile to consider that whoever was behind the Sunset Limited derailment had no “ultimate agenda.”

            Of course it makes for high drama and a better story if we think that a mastermind of sorts had concocted a nefarious plan in an effort to stick it to the government. Such is the content of action movies and serialized novels.

            Rather, a more grounded approach might be to consider the possibility of a person familiar with the area that simply had the urge to act out in a violent manner. Perhaps they were under the influence of chemicals, or mentally ill. Is that notion as far-fetched as an anti-government conspiracy? One might even imagine the individual(s) responsible having some loose affiliation, or at least awareness to the little-known Sons of Gestapo. Could it be the perpetrator only referenced the group as a nod to the small faction, or as a red herring for investigators?

            Besides the information presented above, the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office picked up two men who had been drinking and traveled out to the crash site in the morning hours leading up to the derailment (Mydans, 1995). Then, Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio was quoted as saying these men were not connected to the crime, and were subsequently released. Arpaio also went on record as stating he believed the act to be one of domestic terrorism, strictly due to the notes referencing the Waco, Texas compound incident, and that of Ruby Ridge standoff in Idaho (Mydans, 1995).

Conclusion

            As of this writing the FBI still considers the Sunset Limited derailment an open case. The Bureau alone has issued a $250,000 reward to anyone that comes forward with information leading to the capture of any responsible party (McCabe, 2015).

            So the question remains, who is guilty?

            It is this writer’s opinion that the person(s) responsible acted separate from any identifiable extremist group. This idea is predicated upon the fact that despite the large sum of reward money, no one has come forward with any information related to the Sons of Gestapo to date. Further, based on the evidence surrounding the case, and the lack of any succeeding acts, the attack was likely an isolated one. Making the Sunset Limited derailment, perhaps not a random incident, but one where conspiracy theories and ostentatious villainy do not apply.

            Certainly, the public may never know who was truly responsible.

                                   

References

ABC15 Arizona. (2015, April 9). FBI Offers Reward in Sunset Limited Tragedy. Retrieved from            YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWVGmkcWWmo

Dodd, J. (2018, March 1). BMWE 3014. Retrieved March 11, 2018, from                                                  Brotherhood of Maintenance Way Employees:     http://www.bmwe3014.org/Latest_news/amtrak/2018/contracting_out_issue/anderson_co                    ntracting_letter_with_attachments_3.1.2018.pdf

Enea, J. (2016, October 9). Old Time Crime: Unsolved mystery, Amtrak passenger train    sabotaged     outside Hyder Arizona in 1995. Retrieved March 11, 2018, from ABC 15:                 https://www.abc15.com/news/crime/old-time-crime-amtrak-passenger-train-sabotaged-       outside-    hyder-arizona-in-1995

Labaton, S. (1994, June 22). Barge Pilot Blamed in Fatal Amtrak Wreck. Retrieved March 11,         2018, from New York Times: https://www.nytimes.com/1994/06/22/us/barge-pilot-   blamed-in-          fatal-amtrak-wreck.html

McCabe, J. (2015, April 10). $310,000 Reward Offered in Exchange for Information Leading to the       Arrest and Conviction of the Individual(s) Responsible for the Derailment of the Sunset Limited           Passenger Train. Retrieved from Federal Bureau of Investigation:       https://www.fbi.gov/contact-     us/field-offices/phoenix/news/press-releases/310-000-            reward-offered-in-exchange-for-             information-leading-to-the-arrest-and-conviction-of-the-  individual-s-responsible-for-the-                   derailment-of-the-sunset-limited-passenger-train

Mydans, S. (1995). Sabatoge Derails Arizona Train; One is Killed and 100 are Hurt. Retrieved       from New York Times: https://www.nytimes.com/1995/10/10/us/sabotage-derails-    arizona-train-      one-is-killed-and-100-are-hurt.html

National Railroad Passenger Corporation. (2018, November). Sunset Limited. Retrieved March     11,    2018, from Amtrak:               https://www.amtrak.com/content/dam/projects/dotcom/english/public/documents/routeguides/Amtra  k-Sunset-Train-Route-Guide.pdf

Wood, D. B. (1995, October 13). On the Dusty Trail of the Amtrak Terrorists. Retrieved March    11,    2018, from Cristian Science Monitor:       https://www.csmonitor.com/1995/1013/13012.html

 

 

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 10

I stepped closer to the man, immediately I felt Praesus’ hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Not knowing what to say, I said nothing at all. There was something that drew me to this man, to this prisoner. Who knew how long the Allaine’s and their cohorts had held him here against his will. Following some deep urge, I reached for the restraints that bound his right wrist.

Praesus, having never let go of my shoulder, pulled me back before I could make any progress at loosening his shackles. I could only see that their weight had gouged his wrists badly, leaving a circular trail of crimson over broken skin.

“He is not our concern.” Praesus spoke through clenched teeth. Old Rufus sniffed idly at the broken crown on the stone floor, and seemed to agree with Praesus’ stance.  In a hurry, Rufus trotted to Praesus’ side, an act I had never seen him to prior to that moment. I couldn’t tell if he was warming up to Praesus, or simply wanted to keep his distance from the shackled man.

“He is our concern,” I urged, pointing at the mam, “This could’ve been us!”

“We’ve no clue who he is, or what they are holding him for!” Praesus was, as usual, quick to anger and quick to expose the tenuous nature of our partnership.

I asserted, “You mean were holding, as soon as we are able, we are setting him free. I’m not leaving him here for the remnants of this  group to do with him as they see fit.”

Praesus’ face was the definition of disbelief, “You just used trickery, and the love of two siblings to subdue a woman who’s very reason for vengeance against you was due to you turning her brother into a flesh eating monster who you control, and now suddenly you feel like now is a prop’r moment for charity?” Praesus spoke slowly and methodically.

I shrugged, “You gotta pick your spots.”

Arms up in futility, Praesus swore and threw back his head in a hardy laugh.

“Hey, don’t try to make me out to be the bad guy here. I didn’t see you coming up with any morally acceptable means of escaping this shithole for the second time today!”

Old Rufus cut into our debate with a series of curt barks. Praesus and I turned to see the deceased Anton hovering with his open maw over his sister Asta’s shoulder.

“Anton get it together!” my voice rolled and echoed down the prison hall. The zombie Anton snapped to attention, immediately uninterested in the still living flesh that coated his sister’s arm.

Praesus took note of this, but said nothing. He was more focused on the unidentified prisoner. I didn’t venture any closer, but I gave the man a good once over to see if anything stood out. His garb, other than the well worn purple robe and cracked crown, was normal.

“Is he royalty, maybe from another portal? Someone they would’ve saw as a rival?”

Praesus was being more cautious than I, “He’s a burden we do not need. We need to fend for ourselves.”

“You need to fend for yourself, I am fairly confident with their captain under my command, and his sister captive, I can all but walk right through anything else they throw at me. Can you say the same?”

“Your newfound confidence astounds.” Praesus’ voice was grim, but my point stifled him, at least in the moment.

“I am not proposing taking him with us, just letting him go to give him a fighting chance.”

“He could be a cannibal,” Praesus was grasping at straws.

I stepped out of the cell briefly, gripping the torch from the wall that had concealed the man. “Great the arsonist, extortionist and kidnapper has views on the irreparable corruptibility of another.” Quickly, I hopped back into the cell and shone the torchlight over the man’s beaten face.

The torchlight was illuminating, in more ways than one. I was able to look past the man’s battered countenance; numerous welts and the long-dried blood spatters were caked all over his face.

Praesus continued in vain, “...a thief, some other kind of deviant. I am simply saying, you do not know this man, nor what he is capable of.”

“Yes, I do,” my arm went slack, the torch fell to the ground. I turned to Praesus and spoke weakly, “I do know this man, because this man is my father.”

Window Shopping: Kingdom Without a King- Part 9

Asta was now being restrained in the arms of her dead brother. Tears had spilled from her eyes, made their way down her cheeks. She could not wipe at them due to her arms being gripped tightly at her sides. Although, based on the forlorn look upon her face, I don’t believe she would have cared to do so anyway. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if the blank stare signified some level of catatonia.

Kneeling, I quickly searched the guards and found the key to open Old Rufus’ cell. He was padding impatiently in a circle across from us. When I opened the cell and slid the steel door aside, Rufus looked up at me as if to say, What took you so long?

I began to head towards the prison’s exit, for the second time that day.

Praesus’s voice boomed behind me, “We are to leave now?”

I turned behind me with a look that I thought accurately conveyed What else are we supposed to do? But for good measure, I verbalized it for Praesus as well.

“Where are we going to go? The windows, the portals, they are dormant.”

“Shit,” Praesus was right, even if we got out of this dump again, we didn’t really have a destination- at least not one we could currently get to. I thought for a moment, and then whirled to meet Asta’s eyes. “What do you know about the window-like portals that enable people to travel between worlds?”

Asta only stared blankly ahead, I might as well not even been there.

Praesus  stepped in, “Woman, if you can’t tell us how we can get out of here, your utility has just plummeted.”

Though he towered over her, Asta stared through Praesus’ mighty chest. Her eyes were a million miles away, I guessed somewhere dark and cold.

“Then there’s no need for your brother or you, for that matter,” Praesus stretched a threatening hand towards Asta’s neck. She didn’t even blink. With a heavy sigh Praesus turned back to me, “Useless, she won’ budge.”

I looked at Anton, his face was slack, the only energy was in those green pits in his skull he called eyes. I wondered fleetingly what the point of view might’ve from his side might’ve been like. He held his sister in a reverse bear hug. Her body was limp to the point I thought she might’ve slipped through his arms at any moment.

Anton, if it weren’t for your untimely demise, your sister might still be worth something to us.

“Well squire?” Praesus mocking emphasis on the word squire, was particularly evident this round.

I shushed him. “Quiet, listen.”

Faintly coming from the rear of the prison was a strange murmur. I began to follow its source, leading to the back of the cell. Praesus followed, while Anton and Asta stayed unmoving in what was maybe the strangest sibling embrace in history.

Carefully, I traced my hand along the perimeter of the prison hall and listened. The sound was muffled, but growing. It was low and harsh, it was the sound of desperation mated with a whisper.  

Ellen? Yellow?

I could almost make it out now, as we closed in. It was low and harsh, it was the sound of desperation mated with a whisper.

Praesus and I reached the terminus of the prison. We were stymied by a large brick wall flanked by two torchlights, only the right was lit. We, well I, hunkered and waited, listening. Praesus just stood, looking at me like I was mad.

“...Hello help...”

It was coming from behind the wall. “See! Did you hear that?”

Praesus nodded, “They must have a prisoner beyond that wall they do not want anyone to know of.”

I turned, beginning to shout at Asta, “Who’s behind t--” I waved a hand dismissively at Asta, the newly mute.

Old Rufus had followed us inquisitively down the corridor, eager for a hunt.  

“You think we should break it down?”

I shrugged. And then casually pulled the unlit torchlight on the left. With a rumble, almost as great as the arrogant smirk on my face, the wall receded into a space within the floor. Behind it was a man held aloft only by the taught chains that were shackled to his wrists. My eyes followed them as they ended in large metal clasps that were fastened to the wall about ten feet above him on either side. The man lay awkwardly, with his legs tucked underneath him. As if he had fallen that way, and no longer had the strength to change positions. His face was covered in aged bruises and masses of contused skin. These matched the dirty purple robe that had grown too large for him. He had either shrunk, or had been missing meals.

“He’s been tucked away in here for awhile,” Praesus pulled a handkerchief from his vest and used it to cover his nose and mouth.

Old Rufus barked. This time I took it as a warning.

The man, perhaps in is late forties, was in bad shape. And while all the dire details that made up his full set of circumstances were compelling, none drew more of my attention than the splintered crown that lay at his bare feet.

Disconnected (Part 2 of 2)

“Thanks for calling honey, it’s good to hear from you.”

June, her gold-blonde curls defying her age, sat smoking a cigarette in her kitchen. A cell phone balanced loosely between her ear and palm. She’s shaking mildly, and her eyes are red and swollen.

“Well, I told him we were going to see Grandma Hale because he thinks she’s still in the hospital,” the woman sniffs back a sob, “He was angry with me that I woke him up. But instead of telling me something, he just stared at me, his eyes going all blank… he couldn’t even tell that the coffee was too hot, or let me know that he had burnt his tongue.” This time June couldn’t help herself, the tears came.

“Sorry honey. Yes I’m ok, in fact I probably need to get it off my chest. No, on the car ride he was just as distant, only a blank stare out the window. Although, the off and on spark in his eye, gave away the fact that I think deep down he knew we weren’t going to St. Joseph’s.”

“And as silly as it sounds I took Abbey along so he could say goodbye. Oh no, I think she knew, she was whining the whole way there, and you should’ve seen her once we got to the room!”

“No I just couldn’t bear to stay. The attending physician said that with his condition he would probably benefit from a clean break, he would adjust more quickly without my hovering over him.”

“Yes, I’ll visit him on Wednesday, I guess they recommended a transition period of at least 72 hours. I just hope the adjustment is a smooth one. I pray he isn’t lonely or scared. Oh, and I found the strangest thing yesterday when I was cleaning the spare room-” June laughed, and the miserable strain on her face lifted for just a brief moment. “Yes, okay your room. Anyway, your father must’ve been hoarding his drawings in there for who knows how long. Tucked away in one of the computer desk drawers were dozens of scribbles of orange and white stick figures of elephants. I don’t know why he would’ve been fixated on such a thing.”

June paused to let out a sigh before beginning to speak again.

“You know what I find myself wondering most of all?” The daughter on the opposite end of the phone caught the sadness in her mother’s voice. She remained quiet, only listening, knowing her mother needed to let it out, all of it. June’s voice audibly cracked from the emotional strain, but the words were genuine, and she forced herself to see them through. “I wonder, when he slips away, and his eyes get that glassy distance in them, what he sees when he no longer sees me?”

 

   

 

Disconnected (Part 1 of 2)

I woke Sunday morning to the gentle reminder of my wife June, saying that we were going to visit her grandmother in the hospital. I didn’t take it well. I was grumpy, maybe even irate with her, for some reason I couldn’t control myself. I yelled at her because I wanted to sleep in, it was Sunday after all. Admittedly, after I admonished her for waking me up, I felt guilty, but when I tried to tell her the words just wouldn’t come. I even felt bad, maybe even confused by that. If I was being honest, it might’ve scared me.

With her insistence, I got up and got ready, the coffee she made me was too hot. Though due to my outburst when she woke me I let it slide, unfortunately this upset her when I inexplicably burned my tongue. Again, I found myself unable to communicate this to her quickly enough, even as I could feel the liquid searing my taste buds.

The car ride to the hospital was quiet, June seemed troubled. I suspect she was upset with me because of my shenanigans earlier that morning.  I wanted to ask her about it, but I was too ashamed, so I kept to myself, mostly watching the scenery fly by outside. Fields of tall light green grasses swayed in the wind. I watched this occur for miles at a stretch as we sped along the highway.       

Distantly, I recollected that this was not in fact the way to St. Joseph’s. For a moment there was a fleeting feeling that I should tell June that she was headed the wrong way. Again, my self-confidence didn’t allow for this, and instead I returned to my window watching.

I also thought it was strange that she had loaded Abbey, our golden retriever into the backseat. I didn’t make it out to hospitals much anymore, but I thought the medical community generally frowned upon dogs in hospices. This I did end up asking June about, but much to my surprise, all my mouth could muster was, “Abbey’s here?”

“Yes dear,” she replied, “she’s coming with us.” Her eyes went immediately back to the road, but she gently stroked her hand across mine. It was her way of reassuring me, letting me know that everything would be alright.

The drive ended later than I expected and when we arrived at St. Joseph’s it looked drastically different than what I’d remembered. “This is it?”, I asked June while trying to disguise the confusion in my voice.

Again I felt her rub my hand with hers. She didn’t say anything. Together, along with Abbey, we walked hand in hand to the front door. June had me wait with the dog in the entryway while she went inside to chat with the young woman at the front desk. Briefly, I glanced around the place. If I had to describe it in a word, it would’ve been ‘drab’. If I’d been allowed two words, the second would’ve been ‘depressing’. The lobby was that stale yellow wallpaper that hadn’t been seen since that the seventies, and with good reason. Fake plants had taken root, flanking the reception desk on either side. It was dim inside, as if the day’s full sun hadn’t yet made its way past the walls here. It looked a lot like the hospital in which my father had passed nearly two decades ago.

I didn’t like it.

June came back after a few moments and we all followed a woman in pink and purple scrubs to a small waiting room. She told us someone would be right with us and smiled as she shut the door.  Inside, was a small two-seater couch and a coffee table with a stack of six month old magazines speed across its surface.  Abbey curled up at our feet, and looked up at me with those expressive eyes of hers. I stroked her neck like she liked and turned to June, “Abbey seems concerned, you see the way she’s looking at me?” Staring back at Abbey, I began in a sing-songy voice, “I’m okay girl, everything’s fine! You’re a good girl!”

When I turned my gaze back to June her eyes looked heavy. After thirty-seven years of marriage, I knew when something was weighing on her. Experience also told me that it was futile to ask, she wouldn’t budge in telling me what she was hiding behind those eyes until she was good and ready.

We continued to wait, the silence similar to that of the car ride over. I thought June might be concerned to see her grandmother in less than good health. I attributed her silence to that fact. My silence however, was inexplicable to even me. Normally, I was pretty jovial, making comments about our surroundings, cracking jokes, or even bringing up news or current events. For some reason I couldn’t muster it this day. Then again, I tried real hard and couldn’t come up with the last time I had done any of those things.

I was pulled from my thoughts as June excused herself she said he needed to use the restroom and she was going to check with the staff, as we had been waiting for a long while.

I stayed back with Abbey wishing we had brought something to help keep her entertained.   Regardless, I repeated the ridiculous baby talk that parents and pet owners say to their respective kids and rubbed her belly to make sure she wouldn’t get restless.

The downside was, I was the one that ended up getting restless. It seemed June was taking a long time to find help from the staff. I didn’t want to seem impatient or show that I didn’t think she could handle it herself so I waited about an hour before it occurred to me to go check on her. I left Abbey in the waiting room, closing the door behind me as I went.

I wondered the halls, noting that the layout seemed different than before. I didn’t see the drab yellow wallpaper, the front desk was no longer where I had left it upon arriving. This frightened me, I wanted to find June right away. The young woman who had been attending the front desk was no longer there, now a dark haired man with a thin mustache waved and smiled at me as I approached.

“Where’s June?” I quickly realized he wouldn’t have known who she was, and added, “My wife; glasses, gold-blonde hair?”

The man nodded as if he didn’t understand what I had said, and replied with a strange follow-up, “Good morning would you like to take a walk outside Mr. Turner?”

This idea appealed to me greatly, and proved distracting. What had I come out here for to begin with? “Yes, let me go get my dog.” I trotted back to the waiting room, thinking that Abbey might need to stretch her legs.

When I returned to the waiting room, it appeared empty. Abbey was gone. There was no trace of her, not even her leash. I paused, grappling with my own bewilderment. I was too weak to even call out her name, as the chill of fear stiffened my veins. I stood still, only to find myself rocking back and forth. I wasn’t entirely voluntary. I wanted June to be there with me.  Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she back yet?  

“Mr. Turner?” a few quick knocks against the open door frame behind me. It was that little mustached man. “Still want to go outside and take a stroll?”

I felt myself nodding, despite the fact that I knew there was something I should be doing, someone I should be looking for…

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, and the mustached man took my arm, and led me outside.  As we exited I saw a grand outdoor stage, currently draped in a luxurious velvet curtain. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I asked the mustached man, “Will they have a show today?”

I saw him try to look around, to see what I was seeing, as if the stage wasn’t even there. Eventually he said, “Yes, Mr. Turner they’ll be something going on later this morning on the lawn. We usually hold a brunch there under the gazebo for residents and their visitors.”

I took my cell phone from my pocket and snapped a picture. I nodded, even though I felt his answer was not to my question. “June is missing out! Pretty fancy stage, for a hosp-” Where was I again?   I wanted to ask the mustached man, but to ask the question seemed somehow embarrassing. I should know where I’m at. But I couldn’t focus on that for long, as I turned I saw the magnificent gardens, the fancy landscaping stretched on for miles. At the side of the walkway every so often was a flag, showing what I could only assume was the logo of the place. It was white, with an orange border and had what resembled a simple drawing of an elephant in its center.

I didn’t know what to make of this, but was quickly captivated by the lush flowers that made up the garden beds all around me. It was beautiful, and well maintained to boot. I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen so many varieties of roses, and so many colors, colors that I never realized roses even came in; traditional reds and pinks, but as I continued to look, I noted blues and yellows, purples and blacks. All of them adorning the ground in arranged waves of color, like a rainbow had fallen from the sky.

I went for my cell phone again, snapping as many pictures as I could. Thinking that I knew someone that would want to see this gorgeous site. I paused trying to remember who it was I wanted to share this experience with, but found it beyond me.

Regardless, I carried on taking in the vast grounds. Just above the rows of flowers was a large stone fountain, its centerpiece a wonderfully sculpted copper lizard that had developed its own striking patina. It didn’t spray water from its mouth, but its feet sat within the small collecting pool at the base of the fountain. It was lovely. When I went to snap its picture, I thought my eyes might be playing tricks. While looking through the viewfinder on my phone, I saw the lizard ripple and shake as though it was an image reflected on the surface of a pond. I lowered the phone from view, and everything returned to normal. When I finally snapped the picture, the phenomenon had ended.

Continuing to take it all in I noticed the courtyard began to climb up a gradual hill. Abbey would’ve loved this. Which led to wondering where she was. I looked to the sky, which had just started to cloud. This led to thinking of June, and how she loved the rain. I wondered where she had gotten off to.

TO BE CONTINUED