10
Wednesday, July
31st, 1974. Or Year One Day 106, as some
eventually called it. We were all out on the lawn again, behind the school,
ready for another launch. This one would
propel a man past the barrier.
Mr. Cairn and his
team had rigged a lightweight bike with makeshift rockets. a row of five protruding
out the back. A large ramp was built to
guarantee upward acceleration. The goal
was to get it as high as the rocket experiment had done on that fateful day two
weeks, the success of which had been washed away by the tunnel explosion that occurred
later that same day.
It bore some
resemblance to the insane jumps of Evel Knievel, but without the garish
costumes and carnivalesque hoopla. We
were anxious and hopeful, but we were not up to making it into a big show.
Harry Cairn, the
physics teacher in charge of the contest, wanted to be the jumper, refusing to
delegate that to anyone else. Randy
Sherman, our occasional associate with Artie's gang, and Larry Weisman,
freshman genius, insisted that it not be him as they needed someone as light as
possible. Mr. Cairn was not heavyset by
any means, but he was not a small man, over six feet tall and in the 180 pound
vicinity.
Other volunteers
were looked for. Larry, who was shorter
than me and fairly lightweight, quickly volunteered, but my Dad overruled it
being a student or a woman. That left
three men willing to do it, one teacher and two janitors. A name was pulled out of a hat and the
smallest of the three was selected.
Hector Juarez, a very small man, who could have been a jockey, was
excited to be the one picked. He was a
very friendly and polite man, popular with both students and faculty. He was very close to the janitorial
supervisor, Alberto Foreman. They seemed
to know each other outside of work, probably came from the same neighborhood in
Loren, could even be related.
I had overheard
Alberto yesterday trying to talk Hector out of it, but there was no convincing
him. Hector was determined to do his
part, and thought there was a real shot that he could be reunited with his wife
and son.
Indeed, as Hector
was in his last stage of preparation, just before he got on the rocket bike, he
took out a picture of his wife and son, gently kissed it, and put it in his
front pocket.
We applauded
Hector as he got on the bike, but did not go crazy. There was no band, screaming or cheerleaders.
Just a respectful anticipation.
A parachute had
been put on Hectors back. One he got
past the barrier, he was to deploy it, insuring him of the softest landing
possible.
There were no
experiments, no trial runs. The fuel was
very difficult to make, and after this run, it might be weeks before enough more
could be made.
The goal was to
see if we could get past the barrier that way.
The hope was that Hector could get us help from the other side. We weren't sure how that would work exactly,
but we had our dreams. Maybe, for some
reason, they didn't know what happened to us.
We were baffled by the fact that we had never seen anyone on the other
side of the barrier, why no one seemed to be outside trying to free us. You would think we would be surrounded by the
National Guard or something.
Hector had a
walkie talkie with him, as all the janitorial staff used to communicate with
each other. The phone lines were cut, or
nonoperational, but that might not effect two-way radio communication. Yes, it was true that we received no
television or radio stations from outside, but we had high hopes.
Mr. Cairn hugged
Hector, and then he and his crew backed away to where the extended fuse lay,
about fifty feet back. There were no
speeches, no pomp, only the circumstance of Mr. Cairn bending down to the light
the fuse. He ran back another hundred
yards as the fuse dwindled towards the rockets.
We held our collective breath.
The rockets
rapidly lit up, and Hector on his bike rapidly soared up the ramp. It continued to rise and rise, reaching the heights
of the rocket two weeks.
The bike was at
the barrier in a blink. And as soon as
it hit the barrier, it looked like he was going to make it. But just at the barrier, Hector lit up like a
Christmas tree. He fried to a skeleton as
quick as a blink. By the time we gasped
in horror, it was all over.
The bike continued
to rocket on past the barrier, until it disappeared from our sight. But it was a rider less vehicle. Hector's
skeletal remains fell just outside the barrier.
We saw him plummet form the sky and fall behind some trees.
We were
trapped. Truly and hopelessly. Our greatest minds had failed us. Our month of nightmares was over, but months
of despair and desperation were just beginning.
This concludes Chapter Six, July Nightmares.
Coming Soon!
Chapter Seven - August Blues
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