Free Journal of the Dead by Jason Kersten Page A

that they were planning on returning that morning.
    Hunger was also becoming a factor now. All morning long they had been passing clumps of prickly pear cactus, and they couldn’t help noticing the alluring, fuschia-colored fruit bells on the ends of the pads. Coughlin suggested they try eating some, and theywere pleased to find that the fruit was not only succulent and rich with water, but deliciously sweet. Using their Swiss Army and folding knives, they cut more for later.
    As the weariness of late afternoon set in, it became apparent that they weren’t going to find the trail that day. While Kodikian set up camp on the edge of the flood wash, Coughlin made a final, perfunctory search for the trail on a nearby hill, then returned, dejected. They lay back on their sleeping pads, exhausted and bewildered.
    Now facing their second night in Rattlesnake Canyon, they found little solace in the intensifying colors of the desert dusk, but it did bring cooler temperatures, which luckily didn’t drop below the low seventies. They sat outside the tent, now and again chewing on the cactus fruit while they discussed their situation.
    It wasn’t good; they were lost in a desert with very little water. But as they saw it they had a very big card in their favor: the camping permit. Along with their car, it was tangible evidence of their presence in the canyon, a 4 × 6-inch piece of paper that was now becoming, in their minds, nothing less than a kind of contract—a receipt that entitled them to a rescue. Why else had they needed to state so much information on it, the length of their stay, their license plate number, their ages? Immediately they began to wonder about how the ranger had handled it. What if he had misplaced it? Trying to keep their spirits up, they forced themselves not to think about this possibility. They were still in pretty good shape, bolstered by the rain and the discovery of the cactus fruit.
    That night, they saw something else that gave them hope.
    In the near distance, immediately in front of their camp, were three successive slopes of the canyon wall. From their close perspectivethey looked like three mountains rising into summits, and toward midnight, they saw what appeared to be car headlights on the far mountain. The lights shone for only a few moments, but it was long enough to convince them that, if they hiked in that direction, they should find a road. The next morning, they did just that. Before leaving, Kodikian wrote the first journal entry the pair would make during their ordeal in the park. It was a note for the rangers, in case they arrived while they were gone:
    HELP HELP
    We filled out a backcountry card on Wed afternoon/evening & headed down. Camped Wed, started back on Thursday morning but couldn’t find the entrance to the trail leading to the car. Looked all day Thursday, slept here Thurs night, & saw headlights along mtn
#3
around midnight. We’re headed for that peak. (See “map” on previous page.)
    We’ve got minimal water & have been eating cactus fruit. We need help. We headed towards what appeared to be the ranch foundation to begin. If & when we reach the car we will go to visitor’s center then attempt to come back for gear
—
carefully.
    On the facing page, Kodikian drew a rough map of the three peaks, numbering each one, and noted their time of departure, seven-thirty A.M., in the margin. They left the journal lying in front of the tent, opened to the note, and began hiking in the direction they had seen the headlights.
    It was now Friday, August 6, the day they were supposed to arrive in California.

7
    I n 1942, the U.S. Office of Scientific Research hired Edward F. Adolph, a professor from the University of Rochester, to study exactly what happened to soldiers when they went without water in the desert. At the time, Adolph was at the head of the emerging field of environmental physiology, and with the Allies campaigning against Rommel in North Africa, the reason for the