Cold Flood (Kea Wright Mysteries Book 1)

by RJ Corgan

  She caught a ghostly glimpse of her reflection in the window: freckled nose, tired green eyes, and a fringe of ginger plastered to a greasy brow. It had been a rush job trying to get a flight above the field site before the volunteers arrived. She had barely enough time to tuck her hair into a ponytail and baseball cap; she hadn’t stepped foot in a shower for three days. If they could wrap up this flight and finish prepping the camp before noon, she might have time to brush her teeth.

  A sudden jolt sent her forehead against the window. Too late, she threw her hands out to brace herself but only succeeded in dropping her camera. It bounced off her lap and clattered onto the floor.

  “Sorry about that!” A cheery voice boomed into her headset as the plane completed a tight turn, skimming toward the glacier’s eastern edge.

  No, you’re not, Kea thought. She forced herself to take several deep calming breaths, partly to regain her temper, but mostly to try to keep down her breakfast. Last night’s farewell for the previous batch of volunteers had involved a feast of smoked salmon and numerous shots of the potato mash Icelandic vodka, locally known as the ‘Black Death,’ that dealt a brutal kick. She had vague memories of participating in a drinking game with Isadora, one of the locals, who ran the park’s visitor center. Isadora had won, as always, while Kea had found herself among the ranks of the other wounded warriors who spent most of the morning stumbling around like zombies after a ride on a tilt-a-whirl. This little flight had been Marcus’ idea. No doubt he was directing the pilot to take the most turbulent route.

  She reached down under the seat for her camera, her fingertips only just brushing its casing as she fought against the confines of her safety belt. She took another deep breath and unbuckled the clasp, wedging her other arm against the seat lest the plane perform any more suicidal acrobatics. She managed to retrieve the camera in time to see a blanket of ice fill her window.

  Vatnajökull.

  Europe’s largest ice cap, Vatnajökull, rested on a nest of slumbering volcanoes. A plume of steam emerged from a series of curved crevasses signaling the country’s most famous crater: Grímsvötn. The constant volcanic heat melted the overlying ice, filling the caldera with water, and causing ice above to collapse. The resulting circular depression always reminded Kea of a ruined soufflé. The tremendous volume of meltwater generated during eruptions was enough to float the ice dams that impounded Lake Grímsvötn, allowing the water to rush out during a sudden flood, a jökulhlaup. The force of the floodwaters was strong enough to rip apart the glaciers, sending house-sized chunks tumbling out across the plains.

  Steadying herself against the window, she took as many photographs as she dared as they flew around the depression in the ice. The volcano had been dormant since 2011 and, while it appeared to be puffing away like a chain-smoker, there didn’t appear to be any elevated activity compared with what they had seen most of the summer. She thought back to the photographs of past eruptions that captured the billowing ash clouds, riotous with lightning that stretched twenty-kilometers high. Looking at the tremulous gray wisps that drifted above Grímsvötn now, she sighed.

  Maybe next year we’ll get lucky.

  Gulping down another upwelling of bile as the plane turned back towards the ocean, she forced herself to look over the stubble of Marcus’ crewcut and out through the cockpit. The pilot, a scraggly little man whose name she still hadn’t learned to pronounce after all these years, was saying something to Marcus that she couldn’t hear. Their microphones were off, she realized, her conspiracy theory gaining ground.

  Marcus, though stocky, was a well-marbled mixture of muscle and fat. Former military, he had fallen victim of one too many nights of beer and pizza at the university with the undergraduates, regaling them with tales of battle in the Middle East. Late to the academic world, and surrounded by those more qualified than him, he fiercely attacked anything that stood in his way. Whatever he lacked in years of research, he made up for it with fieldwork, reveling in it as if he was a general leading a battalion.

  At least, Kea thought, that’s probably how Marcus sees himself.

  She bet that he had retired as a junior lieutenant, graduating late from the University of California Burlingame, where they both now worked in San Diego. Today, however, sitting in the cockpit, he was in his element. He had even dug out an old leather bomber jacket for the trip.

  He’d also be more tolerable, Kea reflected, if his attitude toward women wasn’t firmly fixed in 1954.

  Ahead she could see the sprawling mass of ice known as Skeiðarárjökull stretching out before them. Skeiðarárjökull was comprised of three glaciers that flowed together on the slopes before spilling out onto the plain below and merging to form a glacier front that extended more than twenty-three kilometers across the valley. Racing toward it at this low altitude, she could only see a small portion of the glacier’s mass. Filthy with dirt and ash, the low front of the ice slumbered on the edge of her view as they sped across the outwash plain Skeiðarársandur.

  “How close can you get?” Kea pointed to where the Skeiðará Rivers emerged from the glacier’s eastern edge, the slender streams twisting like gnarled roots as their braids crisscrossed their way out onto the plain.

  “As close as you like,” the pilot replied. “There aren’t any winds now, so no problem.”

  “Couple of east-west passes along the front, please.” She gestured to where the blackened ice along the margin appeared irregular, pitted from the extensive melting of the underlying ice. Only a couple of years ago, they had been able to lead research teams out onto the glacier on foot this far east, but the rapid retreat of the glacier in recent years had thinned the ice, resulting in treacherous pools and dips that might drop them into the freezing waters with little warning.

  “It doesn’t look great,” Marcus commented airily.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Kea agreed mournfully. The eastern region of the glacier contained meltwater streams that flowed under sub-zero temperatures due to the intense pressure of the overlying ice. It was a key portion of her research – or had been until recently. No field team meant no data. No data meant no publication, which no doubt delighted Marcus. His field area, however, was untouched by the melt. She just wished he didn’t sound so smug about it. “Fly as low as you can, please.”

  “Sure thing.” The pilot made a wide sweeping turn, approaching the edge of the ice at a low elevation.

  With the glacier margin alongside the plane, Kea could take detailed photographs of the region through her window. The outwash plain still abutted the ice in one location, making passage a possibility, but this late in August, the many pools and shifting ice blocks meant they couldn’t risk taking a team out there. Besides, if their research on the glacier’s internal response to the recent rapid retreat was correct, this location might be one of the main outlets during the next big flood.

  “It’s no good,” Kea concurred. “We probably won’t be able to cross with a team here again ‘til winter.”

  “Shame,” agreed Marcus, barely able to contain his glee.

  “I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” she snapped. “This means we’ll have to keep using the rafts by the Double Embayment,” she said gloomily, referring to the main outlet of the most recent large-scale flooding event back in 1996. Because it was located near the center of the glacier margin, getting onto the ice from there involved crossing a lake. In addition to the delay caused by rowing out to the ice, just getting to the rafts involved a long drive and a four-kilometer hike with all their equipment, a journey that took longer every year as the margin steadily retreated.

  “Good workout for the shoulders,” Marcus mimed rowing with his arms. “Besides, safety first.”

  Never mind the fact that it’s closer to your field site, Kea thought spitefully. She still had a project or two she could conduct in that region, but her focus was on groundwater, which meant she could spend most of her time on the outwash plain, on reassuringly solid ground.

&nb
sp; The plane shuddered again as the pilot forced it into another sharp turn.

  Cretin.

  Kea wiped her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Beads of sweat made her brow cool and clammy as she felt another wave of nausea churn her stomach. Although it was too dangerous to step foot on the ice in the section of the glacier below her, capturing the evolution of the drainage patterns as the glacier retreated might help her produce another paper.

  She forced herself to take as many photographs as she could of the adjoining outwash plain. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. She felt the contents of her stomach heave again. “This should be the last run I’ll need,” she managed to gurgle.

  “Yes, yes,” Marcus nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll just need a few more passes over the Double Embayment.”

  Kea placed her feet carefully on the floor and rested the crown of her head against the seat in front of her, praying quietly to the treacherous god Bacchus to just make it through this.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Kea managed to leap out of the plane before stumbling to her knees and offered up her breakfast to the gravel runway. Between retches, she saw the two men watching her from the cockpit. She could swear she thought she saw Marcus slip the pilot some cash. Since they had prepaid for the flight with the Geology Department’s credit card, the two men must have made some kind of bet. She made a vow to do something about it, once she stopped spewing fluid out of her nostrils.

  The landing strip was located only a couple of miles from the park, having a plane nearby was handy, not that they could afford to fly very often. Between the variable weather and their restricted funding, they had only managed two flights this field season.

  The jeep ride back to Skaftafell National Park was made in silence. Kea spent most of it blowing her nose clean of debris with a wad of tissues she’d found in the glove compartment.

  As they pulled out of the airport and onto the main road, Marcus pointed excitedly. “There they are, right on time!”

  Kea squinted. Heading toward them along the highway was a battered green jeep, trundling along with a wobbly trailer packed with gear. It was one of theirs, returning with supplies from Reykjavik.

  Looming behind the vehicle towered the sheer cliffs of Lómagnúpur, marking the western extent of the field area. Standing more than three thousand feet in height, the basalt massif stood as tall and ominous as a castle built by giants, sheltering the glacier within. It made the jeep look like a cheap child’s toy, about to be squashed underfoot.

  Marcus waited for them to drive passed before giving a merry little toot of his horn in greeting. Tony and Julie, their two graduate students, gave a mock salute before speeding on ahead towards the park.

  “It’s a bit sad,” Marcus commented. “Last supply run of the season. Probably our last flight too.”

  “Ten more days and home,” Kea said, the acrid burn of bile still lingering in her mouth.

  Just don’t say anything. Let it go, she thought. He’s just pissed Dr. Carlyle left you in charge and not him. Just get through the next ten days. “I can hardly wait.”

  “Thank goodness this new team showed up,” Marcus observed. “Otherwise we’d be shutting down early. Eco-Observers seems to be struggling more each year to deliver volunteers.”

  Kea nodded. Eco-Observers, or EO for short, was a non-profit organization that provided university research teams with eco-tourists from all over the world to help with data collection – if the tourists were willing to pay a sizeable sum. While EO provided volunteers from all ages, sometimes private companies sent them full teams, partially for team building, but mostly for the tax break.

  Numbers had been down again this year, however, and they nearly shut down operations last week as they didn’t have any volunteers to fill the final ten-day sprint. Then last month, unexpectedly, Eco-Observers headquarters notified them that not one, but two companies would be sending volunteers to help the scientists collect data at the last minute. Great news for the data collection effort, but it meant two more weeks with Marcus.

  “Janie and I are headed to Mexico for three weeks after this,” Marcus continued. “What are you and Jason planning to do once you get back?”

  Kea felt as if she had just been punched in her chest. Unable to respond, she stared out at the expanse of Skeiðarársandur that stretched out to the sea, its flat, endless surface fading into the horizon. She lost herself in its vastness, unable to discern where the shimmering water met the bright blue sky, desperately trying not to dwell on her recent wreck of a relationship.

  Just don’t say anything.

  “Sorry,” Marcus realized he’d gone too far. He sputtered for a bit, his fingers twitching on the steering wheel as they tried to find another topic to occupy them. “I forgot about...”

  “You’re pissed off that he left me in charge, aren’t you?” Kea turned to address him directly. Better out than in. Unlike my breakfast.

  Marcus blew out a long breath, his hands visibly tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. Besides, it’s only for two weeks.”

  Gee thanks. Kea turned back to watch the landscape scoot past the window. “I didn’t ask for it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” I asked him not to, she didn’t add. She knew her strengths lay in geology, not entertaining tourists.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure it will be fine.” Marcus’ vice-like grip on the steering wheel remained unchanged. “Besides,” he pointed at the trailer in front of them, “I’m very excited that the new equipment is finally here…”

  “What new equipment?” Kea turned from the sea to examine her companion.

  “The…the new gear our friends bought us,” Marcus stammered, obviously realizing he’d said too much. “You know, the gear your friend requested…”

  Kea frowned. The gear in question was supposed to be arriving along with the tourists in a bus that hadn’t come yet, which Marcus must know.

  Upon learning that EO had hooked in the two new companies, Kea had offered to handle the coordination with one company, T3, while Marcus agreed to liaise with the other, Corvis Engineering. Lately, she was starting to wonder exactly what it was Marcus had been up to, as Corvis kept sending him new mobile phones and some other devices that he refused to show her. For now, she kept her thoughts to herself and focused on the jeep in front of them, curious as to what the trailer might contain.

  Marcus changed conversational tracks as they pulled into the park road, blathering on about how much grading he still had to do for the online course he was teaching over the summer. Kea tuned out, randomly nodding encouragingly, as she stared out the window. The sky above was filled with the hulking body of Oræfajökull, the massive snow capped volcano that watched over the park like a benevolent god.

  They followed the quiet road toward the base of the mountain until it opened into a vast parking lot teeming with buses and sport utility vehicles. Driving past the park’s tiny, white-walled visitor center, they trundled onto the dirt road through the campsites before easing to a stop beside the main research tent, a battered, green and black affair some twenty meters long.

  Kea nearly leaped out of the jeep once Marcus had parked and helped Julie and Tony unload the paper towels, canned goods, and other sundries from the rear of the jeep, stacking them on the grass. Tony, who had not partaken in the festivities last night, appeared annoyingly refreshed, his sharp chin peppered with a carefully groomed five o’clock shadow. Slender and lanky, his clothes were rumpled in such a way to appear fashionable yet outdoorsy. He effortlessly lifted the heavy crates of milk and orange juice out of the vehicle.

  Julie, on the other hand, appeared to still be hungover. The collar of her rain jacket was askew, exposing the nape of her neck; her pale complexion was stuttered with anime tattoos, the shapes of the odd little creatures marked by slashes of yellow, ocher, and violet. Her slender frame and raven black hair made Kea feel ancient, even though they were separated only
by a decade. This morning, at least, they had a hangover in common, and moved at the same sluggish pace.

  Kea helped her hoist bags of groceries out of the jeep while Marcus and Tony unloaded some sci-fi looking silver crate about a meter square and hastily headed off in the direction of Marcus’ tent. They couldn’t have looked guiltier if they were attempting to smuggle a body in a bulging rolled-up carpet. She was dying to know what was inside. “Good trip?”

  “Meh,” Julie shrugged. “Dropped off the professor at the airport okay. Shopping was a bit of a beast though. The height of the tourist season is the worst time to try to buy all this food.” She grabbed another bag of bread that threatened to tumble out of the jeep. “April, much easier. Plus, that probe took up too much friggin’ space in the trailer.”

  “About that,” Kea said, trying to sound casual. “What is this probe of which you speak?”

  “The laser probe Corvis had waiting for us at the airport,” Julie said, still obviously annoyed with the crate.

  “Laser probe, huh?” Kea attempted a bored tone, her mind whirling. “Fascinating.”

  It took Julie a moment, but then her eyes grew wide as she realized that Kea was still none the wiser. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “Not exactly, no.” Kea hoped she didn’t sound as annoyed as she felt. It would be unprofessional. “So, are you going to tell me what it is, or am I going to have to pull out the thumbscrews?”

  Julie stuffed the last loaf into a large bag and started waddling toward the main tent with her bundle, the food seeming about to topple at any moment. “I didn’t get to see the thing, but apparently it measures water isotopes and methane concentration in real-time as you drill down into the ice. Provides information about atmospheric conditions when the ice was formed. Basically, you can zap and get instant paleoclimatology as you go down.”

  “Sounds very swank.” Kea made a mental note to do some research once she got back to the visitor center. She moved ahead of Julie and helped her through the flap into the main tent. “And very pricey. Where’d he get it?”