Valley Girl: A Lyndy Martinez Story, Part-22

[Important Lyndy News: Hi everyone, this chapter will be the final entry published online for the “Valley Girl” story arc. Our conclusion (chapter 23) will appear in the print version of this narrative titled: “Stonewater: A Lyndy Martinez Story”. I am having an awesome new cover prepared now and will post an update as the plans materialize. In the meantime, we are pivoting efforts to focus on the romance story: “Sunriver Heart” with hopes to build on the successes of last year and market the novel to a more mainstream type of publisher or an agent who can assist us. To that end, I’ve been polishing up some of the scenes and the story elements within the novel. I’ll plan on posting a synopsis for Sunriver Heart, but in short it focuses on the romantic entanglement between young Lyndy Martinez and Nash Spotted-Wolf during the 1980s in a small mountain town. If you’re curious you can find the opening chapter for the novel in the Southwest Writers 2024 Mosaic Voices volume. As usual, thanks for reading and being patient with the process on this one. And just to let you know, I have a couple of new Lyndy story arcs planned for our blog, and news of that will come later in the year. Please feel free to reach out to me if you have any suggestions or comments. -ASC, Jan 2025]

Yosemite National Park, 1990s

Lyndy Life Observation: At a family gathering somebody asked the kiddos what they wanted to be when they grew up (classic!). Maribel’s half siblings had well-reasoned, noble answers. When it gets to Mari’s turn, I start to get worried; she shrugs and says: “I’m looking into various clown colleges.” To my chagrin, that is the moment I learned Mari had inherited my sense of humor and with the tables turned, I could truly be embarrassed in public by my own daughter.

By the way Brandt was violating his own park speed limits, Lyndy knew he wanted to save the historic hotel as much as her. Perhaps more so.

Neil hadn’t been much help, his remarks cryptic and misleading.

They tracked in and out of radio reception with each bend in the highway, but he knew the Ahwahnee had been evacuated. That much was reassuring. Lyndy tried feeding Maribel, except holding her steady as they drifted into the corners going 75 to 80 miles per hour proved impossible. The little baby wasn’t going to keep anything down this way.

In between attempts to radio, Brandt explained how sturdily The Ahwahnee had been constructed—out of sculpted concrete and rebar no less. Would’ve taken a great deal of explosives to bring it down, yet the size of the model was immense and heavy. The scheme was making sense from that perspective. Their goal had been to get something massive inside the building—something no one would be suspicious of—and they’d succeeded.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Lyndy became awestruck upon re-entering the deep valley. Mere photographs couldn’t do this place justice. El Capitan, a tower of pure granite soared over their heads, merging with a streak of cirrus and blue sky in the clearing of the storm. The waterfalls roared, creating graceful curtains of white. The meadows were green, plants rejuvenated by the gift of a springtime rain. Nature seemed unaffected by the goings on of humans, if only a transitory illusion.

They arrived at the access road and parking for the hotel, breathless and leaving Lyndy more than a touch carsick. The place had lost its peaceful appeal. They were met with a set of improvised barricades. Also, a mass of confused guests huddled in circles, wondering what the heck was going on. A news van was setting up. The scene was frenzied; some cross looking hotel patrons were milling about in pajamas and bathrobes. Of course they were, as the price per night was outrageous and now this disruption! Piloting an official green vehicle Brandt was able to carry on, inching by using the shoulder of the road.

Not quite an eighth mile from the entry gates they were forced to stop again due to a jam. There wasn’t any space to skirt by now. Killing the engine, Brandt went to work immediately; he marched off and set to work herding folks who seemed lost, recommending everyone be moved further back. Some guests were sneakily trying to reenter the property—and worse, the main hotel lobby. Brandt’s mere presence and look of authority shamed them into complying—something about that ranger’s hat.

Stepping out, Lyndy used the rail of the SUV to gain a height advantage, assessing the scene, searching unfamiliar faces for that of Dr. Kyle Ellis.

At first, she found no one she recognized and disappointment took hold. Lyndy began feeling colder and more exhausted. Ducking back inside, she gathered what remained of her meager things and got ready to carry the precious baby in her arms. Then she heard a whistle and shout. Her heart began to soar. She’d not anticipated what a sweet relief it would be to lay eyes upon her boyfriend.

“Lyn” he shouted. Kicking the door wide, she smiled and felt him grip her at the hips. Kyle lifted her and Lyndy fell into his embrace, shutting her eyes and wanting to stay like this for hours. He squeezed tightly though she must’ve been a little gross, badly needing a shower. Kyle rotated her body and brought her gently to the ground.

With feet planted firmly, Lyndy passed Maribel to Kyle as they kissed again. She watched the delight grow on his face while cradling his daughter. Mari wasn’t in a pleasant mood, her face grimacing. Lyndy tried to soothe her by caressing her cheek and saying “daddy is here”. He held his baby up proudly, bouncing her gently in his arms. Behind him, Lyndy noticed the one physical possession she once saw as a vanity. She realized now, in a new light, how much she missed it. “Dang, I really missed this thing!” she exclaimed, running to it with glee. Kyle and some bystanders laughed. Clicking off the brake, Lyndy twirled it through a full 360 turn, exercising the wheels.

Lyndy longed for a hot shower and real food. She wanted a whole pizza, to eat by herself. She glanced behind, as the containment line was being expanded. Rangers began pushing the crowd to disperse. “Step away! Step back everyone,” barked the park employees.

“I have the Range Rover loaded at the village. We had to leave quickly but I got your purse and …,” stammered Kyle. He tried to describe some of her possessions miming hand gestures to indicate sizes, “… the thing like a tackle box and has all the cosmetics.”

Lyndy snorted. “My makeup case?”

“Yeah, that thing,” he replied.

Lyndy felt self-conscious. “I could use a change of clothes. I think this dress is officially kaput.” But that got her pondering. The last words of a faint, scratchy phone call: Kristen’s favorite verse in Luke. The glow of a snowcap atop Half Dome.

How could she leave like this?

Without warning, something stirred inside. Lyndy scanned the crowd wondering how to find Ranger Brandt. She pivoted to face the buildings. She bit her lower lip. An irresistible urge to act gripped her, drawing her in.

“What are you scheming?” Kyle questioned.

Lyndy didn’t know how to answer. She offered him a look of apology as she turned to leave.

Kyle shook his head, but a knowing guise of resignation came upon him as he took one bated breath. Gently he snugged Mari into her baby buggy. Reaching out he latched onto Lyndy’s wrist. He pulled her back—only an instant—planting a kiss on her cheek. It lasted until Lyndy squirmed away, flashing a final charming grin. She then darted off, pushing her way into the clamor.

She located Brandt conversing in hushed tones with a group of other rangers and park personnel. Knowing there was no time to waste—not wanting to think through the possibilities—Lyndy cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned, tipping back his hat.

“Miss Martinez?”

 “I have the code. I’m going in,” Lyndy declared, covering her mouth as she spoke to conceal her words. He turned and, in his eyes, she knew he shared her sentiments.

“You’re a mother?” Brandt argued half-heartedly, leaving the question open ended.

By his tone, she knew he wasn’t about to stop her. His companions gaped at him with astonishment. They were fearful at what he seemed prepared to do.

“How much time do we have?” questioned Lyndy.

“Not sure. Minutes if we’re lucky.”

“Not to brag, but I have a knack for situations such as these.”

Brandt sniffed. “That I can believe.”

---

Minutes later …

Taking a circuitous route, out of view of anyone including park officials, Brandt snuck Lyndy into the restricted zone. They came in through a side exit, passing the kitchen and a series of offices behind check-in.

The abnormally quiet lobby with dimmed lights felt unsettling. Each footstep echoed on smooth walls and bare concrete floors. On the other hand, a fire alarm chirped incessantly. In a tense situation she would’ve preferred a bell, as the electronic beeping could be grating on the nerves. Moreso, because Lyndy felt tired mentally.

Through the mosaic windows she spotted employees rolling out yellow tape, wrapping trees on the farthest extent of the meadows. It gave her pause, thinking of how deep the blast zone might extend—they were preparing for the worst. The building smelled of dinner foods: prime rib, fish, hot rolls and such left to waste in the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled.

Weirdly a herd of deer were grazing in the field, looking serene, probably wondering why the humans were acting so skittish. Lyndy set aside her feelings of doom as much as possible. Of course she wanted to see Mari grow up; it was something to live for. Plus, she needed to experience all those firsts her own mother had never been around for.

All the same, she hadn’t been born to sit idly by while a disaster unfolded.

With a flashlight Brandt guided her up the main stairs, wide and grand for a ball style entrance, but now empty. She rushed up them two at a time, even with her level of fatigue, feeling something of a second wind brewing.

At the dam model, Lyndy and Brandt paused for a beat. The thing was far too large to move, nor had anyone wanted to touch it. Facing the wall, Lyndy crouched, hugging her knees to her chest. She leaned back until her spine rested flat on the cold floor. Next she squeezed her way under the model, a crawl space with 18 inches of vertical spacing to the floor. Brandt struggled to get on his hands and knees, and couldn’t have easily scooted under. There simply wasn’t room for a grown man.

Lyndy extended her palm, wiggling her fingers to get Brandts attention. She heard the sound of peeling Velcro, then he set his smaller black mag light into her hand. Shining the light along the edges, it revealed a series of thumb screws attaching a particle board backing. Using her lips Lyndy blew back her bangs, which clouded her vision. She began a laborious task of undoing the screws quick as possible, knowing this was just a protective cover masking the true purpose.

For some reason Lyndy had the original Love Boat theme song stuck in her brain on repeat. It wasn’t something she’d have chosen for such a grim moment. Probably caused by too much time spent watching reruns, feeding Mari in the middle of the night.

Setting the heavy cover piece aside, Lyndy again shone the light into the void under the model. This time, as The Spitfire moved the beam it revealed a grid of bluish, polymer clay looking bricks. A knot formed in her empty stomach. Shining the light in cervices, she could see dozens more bricks taped to the plywood underside of the model. Each of these were wired, not with blue and red wires, but all black leads. Lyndy put the light into her mouth, gripping with her teeth, directing the light onto a small panel in the middle. It looked like guts of a radio transceiver, but with a small digital display. Scooting further under until her legs were engulfed, she shone the light into every nook until she confirmed the place where all the wires converged was indeed a transceiver circuit.

Lyndy exhaled. She assumed all that blue stuff was highly sensitive. Too bad. She could’ve used a relaxing smoke. In the movies they had wire clippers and screwdrivers. That would be nice. Would be nice to have a bomb squad too—but that rescue was hours away. She pushed the only button she could see, a small black switch. The digital display came to life, flashing 30:16. It was counting down.

“It says 30 minutes,” whispered Lyndy, to Brandt. “I hope this thing is honest. I had a kitchen timer once that didn’t keep good time.”

Less time than she hoped for.

“Takes like a couple minutes to get out too,” added Brandt.

“Agreed,” said Lyndy. Can’t panic yet, she thought, as she envisioned sliding down the stair rail and bursting out the front doors followed by a fireball explosion.

Below the display was a 10-digit number panel, like an old-fashioned TV remote. Lyndy poked the numbers in the order of the verse she remembered from talking to Kristen. 2-1-1-1. Ironically, a laughably simple code. The display continued its merciless downward descent. On instinct Lyndy tried again, this time hitting the star button she presumed to be like hitting enter. She cursed herself for not being better with computers and electronics. “Dang. Dios bendiga,” whispered Lyndy, doing the sign of the cross.

“What’s a matter?”

“I thought I had the code, it’s not working.”

She tried reversing the numbers. “Was hoping you diffused these in the army or something?”

“Sorry, no,” replied Brandt. “I was a tank commander.”

“What did Luke work out to in numbers?” asked Lyndy. “On a touch tone phone.”

“Oh right.” That’ll be 5-8-5-3.

Lyndy tried various combinations of the verse, the word Luke—swapping them—and other buttons. Alas nothing affected the relentless countdown. By then, she knew she wasted five precious minutes. Her heart sank. She let out a deep sigh. “Crap! I don’t want to give up but the only thing I can think of now is to start pulling wires. Wish I was smarter.”

Brandt chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Did you know if there was another of these models?”

“No.”

“I heard there were two.” Lyndy shimmied out, coming face to face with Ranger Brandt.

“Where?”

A ghostly look came over Brandt. He removed his hat. “Two! The same folks made that one?” He put his fists upon the model, as though he wished to smash it.

She pressed her palms into her eye sockets. “I think …” she paused. “I think this one is a distraction.” Lyndy pointed a shaky finger North. “The … the dam. The big reservoir! They must’ve put one there to display.”

Brandt raced to the door, hesitating only cause the stairs were dim and he’d need to shine his light. It gave her just enough pause to jump up, scrambling to keep Brandt from leaving. “Wait, wait. Tell me something before you go. The voice on the phone mentioned something else.” Lyndy gripped both palms around her head. If Chan were here, he’d be very upset, particularly at her forgetting an important detail. But obviously with the 48 hours she’d had things were blurring together. “B channel. Does B channel mean anything?”

Brandt stopped in his tracks, pushing his other worry aside. The quiet was eerie. Brandt yanked his radio from the holster. He stared at the knobs which altered the comm channel or controlled the volume. “Yeah, I remember.” He set it down on the railing, using his thumbs to pry apart the back cover. “There’s a little instruction panel here. It has something to do with how the signal is transmitted.” Lyndy shone the light on the tiny schematic and mice type print, taped to the cover.

“Scratch that. I have a better idea,” pleaded Lyndy, gripping his wrist. “How quickly can we get to Camp-4? Can we make it in 20 minutes?”

Brandt took a labored breath. “Ordinarily, yes. With the traffic, I’m not sure.”

---

Yavapai County, 2010s

Lyndy Life Observation: Rita went to a doctor’s appointment complaining of digestive issues. The doctor went through a series of printed questions from a clipboard, including about alcohol use, as in, “are you a light drinker, moderate drinker or heavy drinker?” Rita waited a long time before responding, then finally answered with: “Sorry, can you please define those categories? Be as specific as you can.”

Delicate wisps of fog hovered over the boggy wallows in the meadow, like veils of lace. These were highlighted in amber by rays of sun, filtering through pines. It seemed just as one began to single out any of these forms, each morphed, dissolving into an illusion.

Mari Ellis listened close, thinking she’d heard a loon call, distant and faint like the howl of a wolf. While taking in such a sublime Arizona sunrise, she wrapped her scarf several more passes about her neck, puffing it so it protected her chin. Hearing a rustling, she turned back toward the farm stand. She smiled, watching white Thor paw and nibble on dried remains of wild daisies, a passel of which had grown up along the posts of a rail fence. He was in his element. Thor heard the loon too; he paused to gaze off at the meadow, still chewing.

She’d been busy arranging fresh green peppers, alongside bushels of ripe tomatoes and yellow zucchini, nesting them on beds of hay. She’d taped little white labels onto kabob sticks, with prices drawn creatively in her neatest cursive. Mari sighed, feeling satisfied with how tidy everything looked. She even had a spot on the table for clover honey. The stand looked good and her mother would be proud.

Tromping through high weeds along the roadside in her favorite boots, Mari paced to the Honda, where she retrieved the folding sign. She carried this closer to the highway, setting out the legs and making sure it was visible from a good distance, so people had time to slow.

From the camp chair at the stand, Mari gathered her hair in a ponytail across one shoulder, then snugged her favorite cowgirl hat on her head. She observed a V-shaped flock of geese in the clear blue sky, honking and flapping their way south. She watched Thor snacking his way further along the fence. Then she pulled out her kindle to read, waiting for tourists speeding to the Grand Canyon entry gates.

Not long after sunrise, Mari heard a low slapping thunder of Harley motors approaching around the bend. Early riders were sometimes part of clubs, retired guys mostly, but as they came into view through the woods, the pair began to slow. She could tell by their unflinching, somber expressions and the purposeful way they kicked out their stands these two weren’t here to incorporate more healthy fruits and vegetables in their diet.

They hung their helmets on their handlebars.

Mari sat up in her chair.

The shorter one, a Hispanic fellow with a mustache, stomped over to the folding table. She hoped he wasn’t going to kick anything, as she’d taken great care in setting this up. Thor stood on his back legs, propping both his front hooves on the table, sniffing in the direction of the two bikers.

“Howdy,” said Mari cheerily.

The man grinned. As he folded and stuffed away his sunglasses, he revealed his eyes. To her they seemed hateful. Looking to the other man, he was stocky and taller, kind of bear like. He had the same smug grin and an equally hateful demeanor.

Mari Ellis cleared her throat. “Lookin for something? Honey is on sale,” she commented. She stood up, dusting off the butt of her jeans and stepping up behind the stand, next to the cash box.

“Hello miss,” said the more outgoing one. “How old are you?”

“Uh twenty, but I don’t see how that’s relevant,” answered Mari.

He nodded.

Mari looked at Thor and he looked back at her. She pushed him down, back to all fours. The tall biker pointed to Thor. “Is that a goat?” he asked.

His partner chuckled. “Yes. Dumbass.” He turned back to Mari. “We were hoping to meet the Mexican lady who normally operates this stand. We’re old friends of hers. She’d be happy to see us. Do you know where she is?”

Mari tipped her hat, loosening her scarf. “Who would that be?”

“Goes by the name Lyndy Martinez, some would say a legendary figure in these parts. Your last name doesn’t happen to be Martinez, does it?”

Mari shook her head emphatically.

“Some people call her The Spitfire. It’s a nickname from when she was younger.”

While they spoke, the taller biker wandered to where the Honda Civic was parked, peering through the tinted windows. Mari assumed he was checking to see if anyone was inside, sleeping.

“Lyndy was seen about a month ago, in Santa Barbara,” explained the shorter biker. He held out his hands. “See, it’s been a long time since anyone sighted her. Some are concerned. That’s why we’re hoping to catch up with her.”

Mari squeezed her chin, glancing down at Thor. “You two are in luck. I know where she is.”

“Oh, fantastic,” said the biker, rather insincerely.

“I’ll show you.”

The men turned to face each other. “Hear that? She can take us to Lyndy.”

“Follow me,” said Mari.

Unhooking Thor’s leash, she led the pair through the fence rails, having to duck, into the countryside beyond. The bikers seemed confused, but as Mari ventured deeper into the pine woods, they resolved to follow. She hiked over a hundred yards to a small hill.