In 1998

In 1998, I was stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado, and the U.S. Army.

I had a friend, his name was Frank, that I lived with in some barracks.

Frank had a rough 18 years of life being raised in the projects of Washington, D.C.

He was involved in a gang called The Crips, and on this particular evening, he had recently

lost a friend back home who was killed by a rival gang.

Upset, and a strot, he came to my room in the barracks, begging me if I could take

him for a ride just to get away.

Living in the barracks could be really boring and it was even worse if you didn't have a vehicle to drive around in.

I just so happened to be one of those few individuals who had a vehicle,

so I was constantly being asked by people in the barracks to take them somewhere.

Oftentimes I was forced to tell people no because if you always said yes, people will constantly

be at your door trying to borrow your vehicle or get them a ride.

This evening I felt real empathy for Frank and his loss.

I remember him telling me, let's go to the Gold Camp Road.

The Gold Camp Road was once an old railroad that led up into the mountains above Colorado Springs.

The railroad had been long gone, and it was converted into a road for tourism that led into the range of the Rockies.

The road had a long history of violence and death, and of being very haunted, especially the railroad tunnels on the road that literally went

through the mountains. I agreed to give Frank a ride and told him I would come to his room

in a few minutes. I quickly put on a light jacket and some running shoes and a pair of shorts.

I remember before leaving, I noticed a weather report on the TV, and the meteorologist

was giving a stern warning not to go into the mountains this evening due to a low front

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