Chapter Twenty Seven
It was a perfect late spring day, cars crossed the curved white structure that was the Hoover Dam, which lay on the border between Nevada and Arizona. Tourists on day trips from Las Vegas gazed in awe over one side at Lake Mead, whose waters were rising after years of drought. The other side provided a breathtaking view of the drop to the Colorado River, which was cutting its way through Black Canyon.
Sighs of wonder, however, turned to screams of horror as the area began to shake. The tremors were gentle at first, but built in intensity with every passing second. Rock pieces the size of small cars broke off the surrounding cliffs and crashed onto the dam, many rolling down the spillway into the river.
Tourists ran along the trembling walkways as waves from Lake Mead smashed into the side of the dam throwing up white froth, which splashed onto the road. Drivers heading south-east blasted their horns at the vehicles in front; but a large boulder had crashed onto the centre of the road blocking the Arizona side of the dam. The Nevada side was impassable due to cars off the dam piled on top of one another.
The screams and shouts were drowned out by a deep growl as a giant fracture appeared on the cliff of the Arizona side of the dam and ran to the canyon floor. Then with a horrendous groan a large part of the rock face along with part of the dam sank into the earth.
Unleashed, Lake Mead gushed in a frothy hell through the large gap and surged along the canyon taking boats and wooden riverside cabins with it. The water crashed around bends loosening rock and sweeping away trees and shrubs.