“Hey Jakie, wake up. We have to leave in fifteen minutes.” Blinded by the
prodigious sunlight, I awoke to find my brother, Ryan, gently nudging me. It
was early in the morning, around 7:45 A.M. I reluctantly rose from the couch,
still groggy, where I had inadvertently fallen asleep the night before. I
quickly ran up stairs to dress myself so I could eat a light breakfast before we
left. Ryan and I both enjoyed a cold, refreshing bowl of Frosted Cheerios.
Fifteen minutes after my slumber was disturbed, we said our goodbyes to our
parents and were headed out the door. Ryan was surprised we left on time.
We loaded up his Jeep with our lunch and drove the twenty-five minutes to the
Laxalt’s house. We live in Galena Forest and the Laxalt’s live in the suburbs
of Reno. Everyday we make the trek into town in order to attend school. As
usual we both complained about the drive. We arrived at Michelle and Peter
Laxalt’s house around 8:30. Peter is in seventh grade, and Michelle is in tenth
grade along with myself. My brother Ryan is a big senior this year, and will
graduate in the spring. As expected, Michelle and Peter looked just as sleep
deprived as ourselves. Their dog, Stoney, gave us the usual greeting- barking
until we acknowledged his presence by petting him. We departed as fast as we
entered.
Before we could head up the hill to Virginia City, we had a few errands to run.
First we had to stop and get gas right around the corner from the Laxalt
residence. There, Michelle was dumbfounded to find out she had forgotten their
lunch. Peter laughed because nobody blamed him for the mistake. Ryan drove
back and the delay didn’t set us back a minute. We weren’t on a specific
schedule so we couldn’t be late. The second assumed stop was to Home Depot to
get some spray paint. We hustled into the store and went immediately to the
paint aisle. We walked fast for some unknown reason. Our gang was in such a
hurry, that we almost forgot to grab one of the store’s brightly colored,
orange carts. There were three separate paint aisles, but only the middle one
had a scanty section of spray paint. Our desired section was approximately a
quarter of the length of the aisle. Peter, our best artist, was disappointed to
find the selection limited. We made do with what we had. We grabbed an
assortment of reds, blues, greens, oranges, whites, and yellows and tossed the
load into the cart. This time we strolled to the register and paid the
thirty-five dollars for the eight paint cans. Relieved to be done with the
necessary, but time consuming errands, we headed for the Jeep. Peter and I sat
in back, while Ryan drove and Michelle acted as his wing-woman. Peter loaded
his backpack with the paint while we finally began to head towards our much
anticipated destination, the Virginia City Flats.
As we turned on to McCarren Blvd., I could tell we were becoming less
sloth-like and more energetic. The energy in the Jeep converted from
unenthusiastic to electric. Turning onto Highway 80 West Ryan accelerated the
vehicle. I knew the Virginia City Flats weren’t going to be how I anticipated.
Our voices quieted when a Semi-Truck sped by. The bridges overhead passed
rapidly. We were all discussing what we thought the Flats were going to be
like. I theorized it would be just another one of Nevada’s many valleys, except
their wouldn’t be any buildings constructed on it. We leaned to the left as the
car turned to the right onto Highway 395 going South. Flipping through some
CD’s Michelle decided we should listen to Led Zeppelin. Us boys agreed with the
selection. Ryan turned the radio up, loud and the atmosphere in the SUV began
to stir even more so. Our group of four became more animated. Michelle and
Peter spoke after one another, both thinking the flats were going to be a valley
with miles of white flat rocks. The siblings proposed the rocks were going to
have graffiti all over them. Ryan soon dismissed all three of our theories and
told us we were in for a big surprise.
Our leader, Ryan, began his tale about the Flats as he lowered the volume of
the music. He informed us that the flats use to be a some kind of treatment
plant for either gold or silver. He wasn’t completely sure, but he knew it was
an abandoned treatment plant. Ryan began to describe the walls of the complex.
He notified us that the walls were covered in graffiti, slightly confirming a
portion of the Laxalt’s predictions. The conversation suddenly shifted from
Ryan’s briefing to our thoughts on the morality of graffiti. Nobody thought
graffiti was completely bad. We agreed it was a type of art that is pleasing to
only certain people. The only time it is harmful to people is when it is done on
their precious property. If somebody painted a slick piece on my wall I
wouldn’t care too much. People who don’t like art or don’t appreciate
inappropriate hieroglyphics wouldn’t welcome graffiti on their walls. I know
some people would agree that some graffiti is pleasing to the eye. Our
discussion ended when we concluded that graffiti isn’t as abominable as people
think.
As the conversation trailed off we approached the South Virginia St. Exit. The
automobile rounded about the complete 360 degree loop and we were now on South
Virginia still heading South. We then took an immediate right onto Geiger Grade
Rd. We took this journey a few days after a substantial snowstorm dumped on us.
In the mountains, where we were headed, there was still a couple scanty inches
of snow. There wasn’t any on the road because the trucks had plowed it the day
of the storm. As we winded up the snaky road we began to talk about how the
country’s gas prices have been increasing. We all agreed the prices were
ridiculous after our thirty minute conversation. As we approached Virginia City
everyone in the car began to stir. We all looked out the windows at all the
stores and shops.
We drove straight through the minute city and continued on down the road. Ryan
began to slow down, skeptical if he went in the correct direction. He decided
to stay with his previous sense of direction and headed straight. After zooming
through the mountains at the posted speed limited of thirty-five mph, Ryan let
up on the gas and took an unexpected turn. He turned onto a dirt road; the sign
posted read Cemetery Rd. I along with everyone else except Ryan began to feel
uneasy. My big brother comforted us by saying there wasn’t a cemetery on the
road, that he knew of. I soon realized there wasn’t any snow on the ground. We
had a quick discussion after I brought the anomaly to everyone’s attention.
Michelle proposed the sun stayed on this peak the longest, because it is further
East than Reno. Everyone concurred. Now that I think about it, that theory
doesn’t make sense. The sun is on the majority of the land for the same amount
of time each day. I guess I’ll have to ask someone with a greater intellect
than my own. Ryan turned around one last bare brown bend and our jaws dropped
simultaneously.
We came upon what appeared to be an ancient ruin. Peter joked we should call
some archaeologists to survey the sight. The building was enormous. There was
about ten columns holding up the roof. The columns sat upon a two foot wall.
The entire structure was solid cement. The walls were crumbling, but Ryan
assured us everything was sturdy. Everywhere you looked there was graffiti.
The graffiti looked like art, not destruction of property. Ryan parked the
vehicle and we departed on foot. Peter, armed with his backpack full of paint
was the first person to hop over the little barrier into the structure. I
followed him, then came Michelle and then Ryan carrying the lunches.
To my immediate left I was flabbergasted to see a gaping hole in the middle of
the dirt ground. It reminded me of a vortex sucking everything into it like a
funnel. At the very bottom of the hole was a tunnel, but I was much too timid
to enter straight off. We continued following Peter into another section of the
building. He led us through a long hallway followed by a deteriorating round
doorway. Blinded by the light Peter stumbled backwards and I nudged him
forwards. The light was bright because the hallway was dark, and the next
expanse didn’t have a roof. It only had a fraction of the second floor attached
to the wall at left; it was about as wide as a normal hallway. We entered an
area that had to be at least 100 yards long by fifty yards wide and about two
stories tall. There was a few dirt and gravel piles that we had to climb over
to get to the center of the complex. Our group stood in a line taking in the
sight. There wasn’t an inch of wall space that wasn’t covered by graffiti art.
Together, we strolled over to a concaved section of the wall to our right.
Peter and Ryan set down their baggage and we talked about what we saw. Ryan
interrupted and told us to take a closer look and explore.
I turned around and headed back towards where we came through the entrance.
Instead of exiting, I went to the right of the entrance where I saw a wide
staircase heading down. I began descending into the depths. The curved ceiling
was disguised by all kinds of people’s art. The colors were overwhelming. I
wanted to admire the art, but what I wanted more was to see where this staircase
led. I continued down cautiously still staring at the ceiling. I neared the
end of the tunnel and somehow the exit looked very familiar. The familiarity
made me more confident and less timid. I confidently trudged through the exit
and immediately laughed at myself. I found myself in the first building, where
we hopped over the two foot high wall. I was surrounded by a dirt slope on
three sides. I was in the center of the vortex. The only way out was to go
back up the stairs. This time I looked at the art more closely. In a rainbow
of colors there were words or tags written all over the ceiling and the walls.
Most were too difficult to read do to the creative lettering, but I still
enjoyed the way they looked. There were colorful pictures of faces with
different expressions and animals staring back at me. I reached the top of the
stares and found that Peter was the only one still in the complex. I jaunted
towards him and told him what had happened. He laughed and then I asked what he
was working on.
Ambitious and hardworking as usual, Peter was already working on his art work.
He already put down a white layer, which I assumed was necessary in order to
have a clean canvas. I asked where Ryan and Michelle had gone, but he said they
went exploring. This didn’t help because this place was much larger than I had
originally thought. I was entranced by a hole in the ground ten yards behind
where Peter was painting. I looked in the wide hole and saw a concrete floor
directly below me. I jumped down and hurt my feet, but it only took a few
seconds to recover. I stood and looked down the length of this king-sized
dungeon. All the way down I saw these dark green swimming pools. I didn’t dare
go in the pools because they looked saturated with disease. They had paint,
beer, and soda cans in them also. Ryan later informed me these pools were “like
500 feet deep, man.” I felt lucky I didn’t go for a swim. I walked up a ramp
and found myself across from Peter. Peter’s leg fell into the hole while he was
stepping back to take a look at his art. I asked him if he was okay, and he
said he was spooked but fine.
Peter tossed me a paint can and told me to go paint. I didn’t find any
sufficient space in the complex so I went out an exit on the left side of the
arena sized building. I took a quick right and to avoid having to climb a sandy
hill. Following the trail I stepped down onto a concrete floor again. It
seemed the building and the sandy hills blended together into one big structure.
I looked left because the building Peter was in, the end wall extended out
creating a blockade. I had to figure out how to go around. I hypothesized that
the large ramps I stepped onto would have stairs on the other side. I marched
up the fifty foot ramp and was disappointed but not surprised to see a twenty
foot drop to the ground. I turned around, went to the bottom and made a u-turn
to the left. I saw the correct dirt path I was supposed to follow as I
backtracked. I was now clear of the blockade to my right and the ramps to my
left. Michelle and Ryan told me I haven’t seen anything yet as they darted in
front of me.
They knew I was going to be amazed at the next building I saw. It was the
largest building on the premises. This building rose an astounding four larger
than usual stories. This building, like all the others, was solid concrete and
steel. I didn’t want to explore that building yet so I continued going right,
where there was a two story building. I trampled an already flattened fence and
entered the structure. There were four walls to this building, but no ceiling.
From where I was standing I could see half of the second floor was still intact.
I walked over to a pile of rubble that must have served as a stool for hundreds
of people and threw my can through the breach above me. I wasn’t tall enough to
be able to just sit on the second floor, when I was aided by the stool. I had
to do a pull up and struggle through the hole to get to my desired elevation. I
walked over to the left corner of the building. The walls still stood to where
they would have met the ceiling. I did another pull up, this time on a
windowsill. I put my feet on the two windowsills that met perpendicularly at
the corner and stretched my hand with the paint can as high as I could. This
was the only clear area I could locate. I began to paint the words The Doors in
red. The Doors have been one of my favorite bands for years. I saw a white
truck coming down the road as I was finishing up. I was alarmed because
painting on buildings is usually illegal. I jumped down and ran to the end of
the second floor and jumped the eight feet to the first floor. As I exited the
building Michelle and Ryan once again found me. Ryan assured me what we were
doing was perfectly legal.
Ryan, Michelle, and I talked for a few seconds before I was utterly disturbed.
I was looking towards the four story building at the very top. Ryan and
Michelle followed my line of sight and were rattled by what all three of us were
now staring at. What we saw was a cross hanging from the very top of the
building, suspended by a protruding wooden structure and some tattered rope. It
wasn’t the cross that scared us, it was how it was displayed. The crucifix was
charred black and hanging upside down. We imagined the brutes that would do a
thing like that. We concluded that they must have been “hella gnarly” or bad
people. We walked together to where Peter was painting. He had progressed by
putting some blue and yellow shapes over the white background. His piece was
turning out great. Ryan and Michelle decided to paint in same building as
Peter. I traded my red can for a blue and soon embarked on the most vivid part
of my experience at the flats.
I passed the wall blockade on my right and the oversized ramps on my left and
headed straight. The building I came from before we saw the cross was to the
right of the ramps and blockade, while the four story one was straight ahead.
This structure only had the fourth story in the middle, but to the left all of
the other three stories were intact. To the right there were only crumbling
staircases leading nowhere. I entered the expanse with more caution than usual.
I took that cross for a bad omen. To frighten me even more there were two cars
in the building. They were covered in bullet holes and looked burnt to a crisp.
These cars weren’t as disturbing as the cross was. On the left all three
visible stories had repeating short walls facing where I had just came from.
These walls supported the ceiling above, but left room for a hallway on the left
side. I went towards the repeating dividers and ascended three stairs that wove
in between several columns that also repeated. I exited the roofed area and
looked up to see an archway to my left. I climbed the arch and balanced across
a narrow block back towards the middle of the edifice.
I was now on the second floor of this immense structure. There wasn’t a
ceiling above me so the warm sun and the breeze provided a nice temperature. I
walked several yards down the walkway until I came upon an entrance onto a
sloped roof. I didn’t see the sloped roof before because it had four walls
covering it up. I trudged up the incline and was disappointed because it was
too steep. This prevented me from getting to the top. I was discouraged so I
turned back and continued strolling down the walkway. Several yards down from
the first entrance I found a second one. This went all the way to the repeating
walls. These walls lasted to the end of the building which was about 200 yards.
I felt like I was in a haze when I stepped onto the second floor. I began to
hear dogs barking and people talking. I almost started to panic, but I knew it
was all in my head. These sounds seemed to echo all around me. I was
constantly watching my back making sure I was safe. Something was different
about this building.
I began to imagine all the workers that used to roam about these buildings
years ago. I felt their presence; it was creepy! I settled myself down and
began to paint a blue face on one of the repeating walls. I felt a hand clasp
my back. I jumped and screamed simultaneously. I fell towards the wall that I
was painting on. There was now wet paint on my back, but I didn’t care because
I was too afraid. Looking up from my seated position I began to look around
instantaneously, trying to find what had startled me. I didn’t see anything.
All I saw were some ghostly faces painted on the wall. I concluded it must have
been a thin piece of cement that hit my shoulder. I quickly finished my
painting and hastily climbed down and walked back to the building we began in.
Everyone was gathered around Peter’s piece so I joined them. His art was
excellent. The letters I-A-S-E were painted with blues, yellows, and greens.
We complimented Peter for a few more minutes then Ryan told us we should get
going. He had to work later that day and of course he didn’t want to be late.
We walked through the hallway, past the vortex, over the two foot wall and
arrived at the car. Ryan opened the car and we sped away. We ate lunch in the
car on the way home. I told them about what happened in the building with the
crucifix on top of it and they just laughed, but agreed they would be afraid
too. After my adventure, I was thoroughly exhausted and so was Peter. We both
fell asleep on the way home. Despite my scare I had a fantastic time at the
flats. They were unlike anything I have ever seen. My experience at the flats
taught me not to wander off and to not to let my imagination get the best of me.