A surge of adrenaline rushed through him and for the first time in years he was beginning to feel alive. Not just feel alive, but wanting to be alive. And it wasn’t just Jennifer, he now realized, it was this new adventure. Maybe he was running away from his past, but maybe he was running towards something. The years of guilt and self-inflicted torment suddenly seemed to melt away. He wasn’t the one who had veered into her lane, causing her to maneuver onto the shoulder, to break through the barrier and run off the cliff. He hadn’t killed his family. They were taken away from him.
No, he thought, shaking his head at himself. There was nothing he could have done and there was nothing he could do now. He felt a pinprick of absolution that spread through his entire body, as if an invisible set of shackles been removed. The feeling was so tangible that he raised his wrists to his face. He was crying now and was beginning to fog his window. Embarrassed, he looked around his sleeper to make sure he was alone. He chuckled at himself and wiped at his cheeks. This was his first moment of real healing since his family’s death. Eventually he fell asleep. He wasn’t accustomed to all of this emotion and it finally caught up with him. And for the first time in years, he had a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
Patton’s train reached Salt Lake City before daybreak. He and his fellow passengers were supposed to exit the train again. Supposedly hotel rooms had been arranged for them. He met Jennifer in the dining car for coffee and they headed off together. The two held hands, walking east. The sun broke over the jagged peaks and without a word they both stopped. It was a breathtaking sight. They looked at one another with wonder.
“Wow,” was all Jennifer could say, pushing her arm through Patton’s. The morning air was cold, but they stood and gazed at the scene for a few moments.
“Do you think the mountains are like this where we’re going?” he asked.
“I sure hope so.”
They continued east towards the tall buildings downtown. They asked a passerby where their hotel was located. The person told them it was two blocks south of the temple. When they asked the woman what the Temple was she gave them a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look and walked on. They looked at each other in amused shock at the woman’s response. They walked another block and saw a diner where they decided to eat breakfast. While eating they ascertained where the Temple was—one of its six spires was actually visible from where they sat—and decided to go see it when they were done eating.
After breakfast they returned to the street. It was turning out to be a bright and beautiful morning. The air was warming and they were getting more and more excited to be in this beautiful city with time to burn. Both of them had heard about Mormons, but neither of them knew much about them or their beliefs. They were pleasantly surprised with the simple, yet beautiful grounds that surrounded the Temple. The Mormon Church owned two large downtown city blocks and had connected them with a courtyard full of fountains and flowerbeds.
They took a tour of the grounds with a young woman who was in business dress and wearing a black nametag that said “Sister Black,” who they later found out was a missionary. She showed them the exterior of the Temple building itself, with its spires going impossibly high into the bright blue sky. The gigantic, awe-inspiring structure had taken forty years to complete, she told them, and it was built with granite that was literally cut out of the mountains by hand, transported by oxcart, and laid together using the most primitive of tools.
They walked through the courtyard and enjoyed the peaceful surroundings. By the time they were done, it was time for lunch. They went back to their hotel to eat, change, and call around to see if there was a way to get up to the mountains. To their delight, their hotel had a shuttle that took skiers up to the many resorts.
As beautiful as the mountains had been from the valley floor, the city looked even more beautiful from the mountains. It stretched out across the entire valley, to the mountains both southwards and westwards. The Great Salt Lake ate up the northwest part of the valley, extending north and west. Neither of them skied, but they found a terrace at the lodge that provided the breathtaking view. They alternated between drinking wine, coffee, and water. They talked to some of the skiers who were taking a midday break and even stayed late enough for dinner. It was nice to be off the train, stationary, without feeling the rush or push of a clock.
The next day they would finally arrive at their new town and their new homes.
The glossy black Chevrolet Tahoe exited from Interstate-84 and made its way north on a two-lane highway towards the Idaho border. A large man in a dark suit was driving. With his mirrored sunglasses and unsmiling face, he resembled a Secret Service agent, but he was an employee of Insight Resources. Riding shotgun, however, was an actual Secret Service agent, tasked with protecting the U.S. Senator that was riding in the back. Riding next to the senator was Ryan Wiley, the Insight Resources’ vice president of logistics. He had a large laptop that displayed a map of the newly-built town to which they were driving.
“These hills to the left,” Wiley said to the Senator, pointing out the window, “mark the southern border of the town.”
The SUV began to slow. The senator turned his attention from the map to the large gate the bisected the highway.
“What’s this here?” the Senator asked, pointing at the arched gate.
“This is the security gate that monitors who comes and goes.”
“How exactly does it do that?”
The SUV came to a stop. A security guard motioned for the driver to roll down the window. The driver flashed a badge and the guard motioned for him to drive on.
“Well, there’s a couple of ways,” Wiley replied, waving to the security guard as they passed. “In the middle is a sensor that reads the license plates as they go by and there are cameras that record the cars that come in and go out.”
The Senator nodded. “So people can come and go as they please?”
“Pretty much,” Wiley answered. “And people from the outside can come in. However, there are pretty strict rules about people from the outside.”
“Like?” the Senator asked, impatiently gesturing for him to continue.
“Outsiders can come in and work and shop and go to restaurants. But they can’t stay overnight without signing a waiver.”
The Senator nodded then a potential problem occurred to him.
“What if a single person from the outside meets someone living here and they want to get married?”
Wiley grinned sheepishly.
“We haven’t really hammered out those details. I don’t anticipate that happening much so I don’t think it would skew the results the eggheads are looking for.”
“Okay.”
The Senator gazed out his window to the west. Rising above the highway was a small mountain range. The foothills were mostly barren, spotted with sagebrush. He felt the vehicle ascend, level out, and then descend again.
“Up ahead, Senator, is the lake,” Wiley mentioned, pointing to their left.
“I understand this was dredged out and made deeper,” the Senator said, somewhat interested now. As a young man he’d worked on a dredging crew. The job helped him pay his way through college.
“Yep,” Wiley replied. “That was a tricky piece of engineering but it’s a nice feature and it will serve as the town’s water supply. It’s deep enough for boats and wave runners and that type of thing too.”