by RJ Corgan
Marcus and Tony scouted ahead, reporting that the exposure continued around the river bend, where it flowed into a lake. While they had made the traverse without incident, they recommended returning with some gear to ensure safe passage for the team. They all packed up a few hours after that, agreeing not to press their goodwill with the volunteers, particularly after recent events, and began the slow trek back to the vehicles.
Kea lingered behind to make one last sweep for the occasional discarded food wrapper. Or so she told herself.
Plodding slowly through the soft wet sands that nestled beside the riverbank, she climbed slowly up the gentle rise onto the sandur. The rain fell harder now, obscuring the distant forms of the volunteers. As they made their way in and out of the depressions, to Kea, they looked all the world like a slow-moving game of whack-a-mole.
She was becoming increasingly worried that Bruce’s death hadn’t been an accident. He had seemed so happy that day… But if someone had whacked Bruce, she didn’t have any proof. Or motive. Or…
She raised her face to the sky and felt the drumming of the raindrops against her cheeks and sent her thoughts heavenward. I’m sorry Bruce, I’m trying, honest. I just have no clue what I’m doing. Can you throw me a bone? Please?
***
After returning to camp, the clouds unleashed a downpour unlike anything they had seen this season. People only left the safety of their tents for urgent sprints to the bathrooms or to dash to the main tent for meals. The main tent itself was stifling, filled with steam from the cooking and damp volunteers. Conversations were reduced to mutterings, with words few and far between.
“Where do we stand?” Kea asked the leads who had assembled at the rear of the tent.
Marcus had taped the sketches drawn by the team into one long panel. “On the plus side, they’ve mapped out half a kilometer already. It’ll be another day at least, plus the bit around the river bend. That will be a bit trickier to get to.” He pointed to the farthest transect, where the river bit into the edge of the cliff. “Tony and I have a plan to gain access. As far as the quality of the sketches, however,” he used a finger to show some of the cartoon-ish sections that had been drawn by the less gifted of the volunteers. “They’re variable at best.”
Kea had seen most of the sections in the field but laying them all out together helped wrap her head around both the scale and the features they contained. She would use a software package to mosaic together the photographs tonight, which would hopefully make up for any of the shortcomings of their artists. “That means what, another two days of fieldwork?”
Marcus grunted noncommittally. “At the present pace. The weather doesn’t look good though.”
Julie nodded. “The forecast says we’re probably going to get another couple of days of misery at least.”
“Manageable?” Tony asked.
“Hopefully,” Julie shrugged. “Nothing drastic coming. Lots more rain off and on.”
“And the team?” Kea had headed straight to the showers after returning from the field, long overdue for a scrub down. She had missed dinner, and the few volunteers who loitered in the main tent hadn’t been very chatty. “How are they?”
“They seem okay,” Tony ventured. “But they’re not going to be having group sing-alongs anytime soon.”
“Any word from the Met office on Grímsvötn?” Kea asked Julie, referring to the magma chamber.
“Same,” Julie said. “Active, but just ticking over.”
“We still need to get the MRS, the flow meter, and any other gear off the ice,” Kea reminded them. “Getting Gary off was top priority, but I thought we’d be able to get back on the ice the next morning… Anyway, we might as well wait ‘til the rain’s over, just to be safe. Let’s see if we can knock out the rest of the section in the next day or two, then re-evaluate going back up to retrieve the kit.” Hearing her own voice, she wasn’t certain if she was stating a fact or waiting for their approval. “It looks as though most of the Icelandic campers have packed up and left, which likely means we’re in for more than a bit of rain. If it continues, the volunteers could decide to pack up as well. We’ll need to do something to jumpstart them…”
Chapter 9
Day Five
Kea slid into the froth of bubbles and let the throbbing jets massage her sore spine. The room was filled with two large hot tubs, and the entire team crammed into every available inch. There was a chorus of sighs as the water, fueled by the local incinerator, soothed their weary muscles.
Today’s field day had progressed in a similar manner to the previous one. Alternating between drizzling and spitting, the rain never reached the point where they had to cease work. She was impressed that most volunteers still had not complained as they mapped the section. While it was clear they’d rather be somewhere else, the novelty of the expedition, and the sheer volume of work, helped the time pass quickly. To reward them for their perseverance, the leads drove the team to the hot tubs, a twenty-minute ride west, near a local farm.
Kea had been first to clamber into the tub. Jon had stepped in beside her, providing a full Daniel Craig view of his tight-fitting swimsuit as he stepped into the water. She stared up at the ceiling as the rest of the volunteers piled in, trying not to notice the sensation of Jon’s thigh against her own.
“I still can’t feel my toes,” Reynard held his foot above the water and waggled his digits.
Kea noted that a fine, dendritic tracery of tattoos reached from his arms, across his front and back, and all the way to his ankle. It was as if a tree had enveloped his whole body.
“None of them?” Tony asked.
“Just big one,” Reynard said, shaking his head. “Feels numb.”
“Trench foot,” Marcus diagnosed.
“Trench foot?” The German struggled with the translation. “What is that?”
“Comes from the trench warfare during the First World War,” Marcus explained. “Too much time in the cold and wet.”
“Keep it warm and dry, and you should be fine,” Julie advised.
“I have to admit,” Bonnie said. “I thought it would smell.”
“My foot?” Reynard asked.
“The garbage, you idiot,” Bonnie said, splashing him.
“They burn all the trash over there.” Julie pointed at a building hidden from view by the wall. “It’s not very green, and certainly not geothermal, but it does give us loads and loads of lovely warm water.”
“Best dry?” Reynard asked, still frowning at his foot.
“Best dry,” Marcus assured him.
Kea considered the young man’s response. Was his English really that bad? Was he clueless or just acting?
Reynard grunted and reluctantly left the hot tub, padding over to the bench to retrieve his towel. The group shifted clockwise to fill Reynard’s vacant spot and Kea found herself pressed hip to hip against Zoë. Kea shifted slightly, but as a result only pressed closer to Jon.
You’ve got to be kidding. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the jet of bubbles instead of the two warm bodies on either side.
“Are you lot going anywhere after the field season?” Kea heard Derek ask.
“Ever been to the penis museum?” Cole had obviously done his homework on the most important of Iceland’s tourist options.
“I want to see the Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft,” Gary ventured. “They’ve got a pair of necropants.”
Leave it to Gary to make it weird.
“Necropants?” Bonnie asked.
“Pants made of human skin,” Gary expounded with macabre delight.
“That can’t be true,” Bonnie tutted. Then, “Where is this museum?”
Kea had only seen pictures of the necropants. The ghostly, translucent texture of them had made her skin crawl. “Marcus,” she said before the conversation could devolve further. “Speaking of magic pants, have you told them the story of the witch of Hekla?”
“Ah, you mean Katla, I think,” Marcus corrected.
“The volcano Hekla is thought to be the gates of hell. Katla, on the other hand, was a far more interesting legend.”
Kea had intentionally given the wrong name, knowing that Marcus would go into full-on lecture mode. She just wanted to relax and enjoy the warmth of the water, yet all she could think about was the soft sensation of Zoë’s thigh on one side and the tickle of Jon’s furry, muscled leg on the other.
Kea felt as if her sensory organs were going to overload.
Focus on the story, she reminded herself. Focus on the story.
“Once there was a monastery that had a housekeeper named Katla,” Marcus began. “She was a fiery-tempered woman, mean-spirited and many called her a witch. It was said that she had a pair of magic pants that gave her the power to run across the land as fast as the thunder.”
As Kea listened to the familiar tale, her hands and feet floated in the water, guided by the turbulent bubbles. She felt the brush of Zoë’s hand against her leg.
Was that an accident? She couldn’t tell. On her other side, she felt Jon’s hand slide against her own. Definitely not an accident.
Kea desperately wanted to open her eyes, but she didn’t know where it was safe to look. Instead, she kept them pressed tightly shut and forced herself to slowly exhale as Marcus droned on.
“A shepherd boy lived near the monastery and heard the stories of this Katla,” Marcus continued. “One day when Katla was gone, the boy found that he had lost his flock. In a panic, he put on the magic pants and raced around the land. It was with great relief that he found his lost sheep and guided them home before Katla returned. He put the pants back where he had found them and returned to minding his flock. When she came home, Katla discovered what the boy had done and was furious. In a fit of anger, she drowned the boy-”
“Drowned?” Nadia asked.
“What?” Marcus paused for a moment. “Yes, drowned.”
“That’s not very witchy,” Nadia protested. “Why not just, you know, zap him?”
“Anyway,” Marcus said, clearing his throat loudly, “Katla had to hide the body, so she dumped it in a pile of grain-”
“-not magical,” Nadia muttered.
“The boy,” Marcus pressed on, “was hidden in the pile of grain so no one knew what had happened to him. Everyone thought he’d run away. Over time, however, the villagers began to eat the grain, and Katla became worried that they’d soon uncover his body.”
Kea could hear Nadia ask about why no one smelled the poor boy first, something Kea had always wondered. She would have voiced support for Nadia, except her hand kept accidentally touching Zoë’s knee. It was driving her insane.
“Afraid for her life, Katla put on her pants and fled up to the glacier, Mýrdalsjökull. She threw herself into a canyon and a short time later, a massive flood of water burst forth from the glacier, flooding the entire coast. The locals named the mischievous volcano after her and any time jökulhlaups burst out of Mýrdalsjökull, they blame the witch.”
“She just ran away and committed suicide?” Cole sounded outraged.
Kea wasn’t certain if the teenager really had a problem with the story or was merely siding with Nadia to curry favor. Kea had noted the way he had been gawking at Nadia’s bathing suit all evening.
“I didn’t say she died, just that she threw herself into a canyon,” Marcus corrected. “She could still be up there, right now, waiting to unleash havoc.”
“Are we done yet?” Nadia asked, bored.
Kea shook herself as she realized the question was directed at her. “Sorry, what?” As the attention of the whole team was now focused on her, she quickly pulled away from Zoë and Jon.
“The mapping?” Nadia asked again. “Are we going back onto the ice tomorrow?”
Kea had noted that out of all of them, Nadia was the least interested in, and the most vocal about, ‘drawing mud.’ It was obvious that she was eager to get back up on the glacier, or better still, just go home.
Thankfully, Nadia’s question attracted the attention of the entire group, including the sandwich of sexy that Kea had found herself in. She felt both Jon and Zoë lean forward to hear Marcus’ reply.
“Not yet,” Marcus said. “There is one last section around the river bend where the cliff meets the lake. Tricky, but Tony and I managed to fix up the path using some planks.”
“And after that,” Nadia pressed, “back on the ice?”
“Probably,” Marcus said noncommittally.
“Great.” Nadia clearly didn’t believe him.
Kea saw Andrei shake his head in dismay at his daughter’s behavior. Beside Kea, both Jon and Zoë had independently decided by accident or choice to press in closer. Feeling her heart rate skyrocket, and desperate for a distraction, Kea re-joined the conversation.
“We really do want to thank you for all your hard work,” Kea said, addressing everyone in the tubs. “We’d never have been able to map this section without you. It really is a tremendous find.” Kea thoughts returned to the day of Bruce’s incident. She turned to Zoë. “You know, it’s been so crazy, I haven’t even had a chance to watch the rest of the drone footage yet.” She realized that she was babbling. “Anyway, who’s for ice cream? It’s on me!”
She leaped up before the others could leave the tub and made a dash for her towel. Glancing back, she caught both Zoë and Jon exchanging a bemused look, as if they couldn’t quite work out what had just happened.
Join the club, Kea thought, as she fished in her bag for cash. Right now, she needed an ice cream sandwich followed by a cold shower. Or a shower of ice cream sandwiches...
***
Safe behind the glass windows of the spa, she watched as the driving winds bent the slashing rains into a forty-five-degree slant. The gray skies stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, with no respite in sight.
This is the real Iceland, she thought. Yet another sight that Bruce never got to see.
Looking through the frosted door of the freezer at the selection of treats, she found she couldn’t decide what she wanted. In its reflection, she could see Jon and Zoë walking into the gift shop, still damp from the showers.
What do I want? Kea pondered. A mom with baggage or a younger man who could have everyone he wants? Or both?
Looking back out the window at the sodden landscape, she realized she’d lost her appetite.
Fernando joined her at the window. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied automatically. She didn’t want to sound maudlin but couldn’t help but add, “I just wish Bruce had seen this.”
Fernando considered the dreary clouds and endless rains. “I guess. He’s been talking nonstop about this for the last couple of months. At least, I suppose he got to see some of it.”
“Really?” Kea turned, stepping too close, so fast that Fernando nearly spilled his drink. “You guys only joined at the last minute. Did Bruce pick this trip?”
Fernando took a small step back and shrugged. “No idea, I’m just an IT guy. You’ll have to ask the big boss.” He nodded at Max, who was watching them, his expression unreadable.
“Yeah,” Kea said doubtfully, “I’m sure I will.”
***
Everyone seemed to move slower following their soak in the hot tubs. Once they returned to camp, the rest of the evening passed at a leisurely pace. In the main tent, cards were dealt, and coffee brewed. Across the campground, flaps were thrown open to air out the funk and damp that had been lurking within their walls.
Kea was surprised to see the sun breaking through in sporadic cracks of gold and orange as it hovered above the horizon. She took her work outside, setting up shop in a folding chair beside her tent. A duffel bag full of papers rested at her feet as she poured over the MRS data. After a half-hour of struggling to extract anything useful out of it, she gave up.
“Aliens,” Kea declared to her tent. “Must be aliens.”
“First sign of madness.” Julie’s voice floated over her shoulder.
“Look for yourself.” Kea thrust the laptop at her in disgust. “Sense, it makes none.”
Julie knelt beside Kea and scrolled through the data.
Realizing that she sounded like a mad person, Kea pressed her face into her palms. “It’s almost as if the fields aren’t returning to their original state... or perhaps they weren’t normal to begin with.”
“Could be fragments of something in the ice maybe? Or the ash throwing it off. A meteorite in the ice? I’m sure that’s what Reynard would say.” Julie turned the screen back to Kea. “You’re the expert.”
“Not at this,” Kea said, frustrated. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” She thought again of the moulin and its position relative to the MRS. “Did you ever get your computer up and running again?” Kea asked, her attention still focused on her data. Or, rather, lack thereof.
“Yeah, someone had just unplugged it overnight. The battery was completely dead. That someone turned out to be Bonnie, who used the outlet to charge her DVD player.” Julie shook her head in disgust. “It took a couple of hours of charging just to be able to turn my computer back on. Must be on its last legs. Anyway, I came over because I was wondering if you might want to talk.”
“Talk?” Kea sensed a trap.
“About the other night,” Julie said pointedly.
“Ah,” Kea said.
“You wear your emotions like a bad suit. I can see every stain and wrinkle,” Julie said in a sultry voice.
“Eh?” Kea glared at her graduate student. “My laptop isn’t the only thing not making sense.”
Julie laughed. “Amirah made that comment about you this morning.”
“Thanks?” Kea replied. “I think.”
“She mentioned that you still seemed a bit off,” Julie continued. “And I have to agree.”
“Am I?” Kea asked the tent for confirmation, then realized what she had just done. “Yes, I suppose I am.” She clutched the laptop to her chest, hugging it for comfort as if it were a teddy bear. “I still don’t believe Bruce committed suicide, but I have no proof. No smoking gun, no motive, not so much as a sausage.”