Lost and Found

Getting stranded in the Desert is unlucky for most people. Well, all people. But for me, something incredible happened- I met someone very interesting. His name was Bill and he was dying.

Let me start from the beginning, because if I tell the story too fast you won’t believe me.

It all started one hot summer afternoon- cliché time to get stranded in the desert, I know, but I was trying to lose my problems so I thought it would be cool to get lost in Death Valley.

Well, I did.

I not only got lost in Death Valley but my car died. And it was only a matter off hours before I might, too. There were no street markers in sight and my phone was so out of range it laughed at me.

Enter Bill.

After spending two and a half hours alone, which was nice, I could finally hear the humming of an approaching car on the road.

I stepped out of my air conditioned crossover and waved frantically for the car to stop. The car slowed down without hesitation and this is how I met Bill.

“Do you need some help?” He asked.

“Yea…I need a lift into the next town so I can call a tow truck” I told him.

“Well, hop on in.” He said.

“You’re not a murderer are you?” I boldly asked. Yes I DID.

Bill laughed, it was funny. “No of course, not."

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.” I joked.

I grabbed my valuables, locked Big Bertha up and hopped in with Bill.

I immediately regretted getting in the car; even before he pulled off. I can remember the moment after I closed the door, it was just before he put the car in drive- That was my chance to change my mind. I had made a huge mistake. When my car was finally out of sight, I knew we were on our way to wherever Bill was going to take me. So, I tried to do what any kidnap victim would do, I made it personal. I humanized myself.

“So my name is Sal. That’s short for Salvadora. As in Salvador Dali..” I waited for him to respond. Nothing.

“Annnd I am a thirty year old unemployed filmmaker.” I continued.

“I drove out to Death Valley because I’m failing in my craft and I wanted an adventure to inspire me. I’m also the youngest of three. I have two older brothers who are probably trying to get ahold of me. And a neurotic mother who protested this trip via text and voicemail until I lost reception. Getting into town should be fun.” I looked over to Bill. Still nothing.

“So what’s your name?” I asked. Realizing I’m in the car with a complete nameless stranger.

“My name is Bill.” He said, lacking any luster.

“Bill! Great name. What are you doing out in Death Valley?” I asked.

“I’m looking for a treasure.” He said, very seriously.

Now, Bill was about sixty years old, I imagine. His hands looked young, but his face looked crinkled with stress and anguish. I could tell he was slightly on edge and if he had been a murderer, I’m pretty sure my babbling was making his conquest to kill easier with every babble.

“A treasure? This is just the inspiration I need. Do you have a map?”

“I’ve got some clues in a notebook my dad left me.” He said.

I looked around for the notebook and saw an old beaten black leather one on his backseat. I sat in silence for a minute, waiting for some follow up. So, I kept the conversation going.

“Do you want some help finding it?” I asked.

“I don’t need any help, I know exactly where it is.” He contradicted himself. Did he have clues in a beaten Moleskin? Or did he have certainty in the old thing?

I took a shot in the dark.

“Well, can I come with you?” I asked.

Bill looked over at me and smiled.

“Yea, the company would be nice.” He said softly.

So we continued in awkward silence on the road through Death Valley until we reached a fork with a sign that said DO NOT ENTER. Again, I regretted the hell out of my decision. I could have kept my mouth shut, but NO. I needed inspiration for a film I might not ever live to make.

“Bill can this really be it? It says ‘Do Not Enter’” I protested.

“Hand me that notebook on the back seat, will ya?” He asked. Suddenly I hear a New York accent. I now have a driving contradiction from out of town, likely unfamiliar with this road and my life is in his hands. Literally, we might die because of the information in this notebook.

I’m being dramatic at this point, but the story is about to pick up.

Bill took the road we were advised NOT to enter and pulled over immediately. He flipped through the notebook to a folded page where there were coordinates written next to a drawing of a boulder the shape of a buffalo. He grabbed his iphone and opened an app that read our location. He begins driving slowly while checking the change in coordinates. He could see we were getting close and heading in the right direction. With confidence, he called me in off the bench and had me navigate.

“Here you go Sal, let me know when we hit 36.5323° N, 116.9325° W” he said in a low but enthusiastic voice.

I took the phone and the coordinates keep moving until we hit a number that was way off.

“Ah, Bill. I think we are headed in the wrong direction. The coordinates just jumped and are way off.”

He looked at the coordinates and looked out both sides of the car. He locked eyes with something over my shoulder. I was too afraid to look so I waited for his next reaction.

“There. There’s the boulder. We gotta get out and walk.” He said. He immediately put the car in park, popped the trunk and got out. He only brought one shovel and so went on ahead without me. I didn’t want to miss this, so I got out and followed him.

Bill walked around the boulder until his iphone alerted him that he’s reached his destination. At this point, this is one of the most exciting experiences I’ve ever had.

Bill started to dig. I started to keep him company.

“So how did you- “

“AHH!!!” Bill screams.

“What happened!?” I shouted.

I saw a rattlesnake hissing about two feet from Bill. He’d been bitten.

I couldn’t believe it. I thought “Bill is the one who dies out here?!” But you wouldn’t believe what happened next- Bill took the shovel and pummels the snake! Then, he yells to me-

“Keep digging so you can get me to a hospital!”

Bill was a New Yorker, alright. He had been bitten by a rattlesnake, then beat the rattlesnake to death and felt he was strong enough to hold on to life while I dug his treasure out. So I did what anyone would do.

I grabbed the shovel.

Luckily, I hit a hard box about six digs in. So, I grab this old, rusted tackle box, carry it to Bill and he takes a minute to thank his Pop. He opened the old thing and inside was more cash than I’d ever seen.

“How much is in there?” I asked.

Bill, almost unconscious in the passenger seat, clenched the box and said

“About five hundred thousand dollars- my father’s trust.” He managed to get these last words out before closing his eyes.

I quickly got in the driver seat and started for the main road as fast as I could. When I hit the fork, I had about one bar on my phone and managed to get enough signal to find the nearest hospital. It was an hour away.

I drove and talked to Bill. He was in and out. I’d given him the rest of the water in my cantina, but he needed an antidote. Not the water from my glacier dispenser.

We arrived at this tiny hospital just off the road in a little town. I ran in and told them what happened to Bill and because it was their most common injury in Death Valley, they could tell just by looking at him that he was going to be ok. Or so they thought.

When it was time to see Bill, I walked in with his old tackle box filled with half a million dollars in cash- I thought it would cheer him up, you know?

“How you doing, stranger?” I asked.

Bill could barely talk. He was drugged up and literally dying.

“You stayed.” He said with a smile.

“Of course I did. No ones ever died on me before. I figure I gotta see you through.” I joked.

“I brought your box.” I said, keeping my voice low.

Bill took the box under his arm. “Thank you” he whispered.

“I need you to do me a favor.” He started.

“What do you need, Bill?” I asked

“I need you make a donation to St Jude’s Hospital. It’s where my granddaughter is being cared for.” He whispers.

“Wow Bill. I don’t know what to say. You don’t think you’re getting out of here?” I said.

He could only shake his head “No”.

Bill opened the box and took out a ton of cash and put it in my hands. I looked at him like he was crazy and said-

“What’s this for?”

“Finders fee” he whispers.

I believe those might have been Bill’s last words. He died that night and he died a hero. Children with cancer would continue to get treatment and have an opportunity to live a full life and their families would never see a bill for it.

It wasn’t until I made the $480,000 donation in Bill’s name that I realized twenty thousand dollars was missing.

So that’s it. That’s the adventure I lived when I took on Death Valley to lose my problems.

I got lost. I got found. And a stranger changed my life.