The barren one room apartment at the top of the stairs was stark and cold. The stained sheets on the single bed were crumpled and unmade as usual. A table with chairs sat against the opposite wall. On the top of the table a large glass ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts and empty gum wrappers. A tin of Skoal sat alongside three empty beer cans. They were stacked in a pyramid. In the third draw of the dresser, by the only window was a 38 midnight special, a german luger, and a 44 magnum, all loaded. The front wall by the door was covered with posters and newspaper clippings pertaining to the Vietnam War. A few foldouts of pin up girls, gave a sharp contrast of images in the room. It radiated a disturbing feeling for the eclectic nature of the designer. In the fourth drawer buried beneath a pile of dingy grey underwear were the timer, electrical cord and plastic explosives.
Lance Berry was sitting cross-legged on a pillow against the empty wall across from the door. Although his eyes were closed, he was wide-awake. He had been sitting communing with whatever thoughts flashed through his mind for over two hours. A peaceful look accentuated the rugged features that you would hardly notice. Deep dark eyes, and a once broken nose sat above a thin straight mouth that never smiled, his body, a well oiled machine, hard and strong. It was ready for whatever might be demanded of it. He added more and more lines to the page as an incredibly scaled drawing of Arapahoe Basin began to appear. Lance knew every square foot of the area and transferred that image in his mind to the paper in front of him. In detailed precision he captured every structure from the lift towers to the lodge. He sketched in caricatures representing people at different positions on the map. In a corner he wrote: A-Basin, 4-1-78 3:45 PM. Sitting back he stared at his work and was scanning it for mistakes, tapping his pencil obsessively on his leg. Assured of his perfection, he grabbed the warm can of beer from the table and finished it in one gulp. Neatly, he stacked it up against the other four, grabbing his Skoal he pinched out a portion and tucked it into his cheek. Turning his attention to his drawing, he examined it carefully and after a few moments he took his pencil and made a large X through the Number Three Lift Station.
“Stick to your Politics Senator and leave the mountains to the Mountain Men. You think just because all the other people in the Valley laid down at your feet, I’m going to. You’ve got a rude awakening. I’ll blow the whole mountain, before I see you get it.”
The Ring Song, Krishna Das, Pilgrim Heart
