by RJ Corgan
“I heard you found us out there.” Kea waved out to the glacier. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Of course,” Gary said an odd tone in his voice. “Terribly easy to lose your footing out there.”
Kea wondered then if he was the one who moved the boards.
Unlikely, she concluded.
Their relationship, if there was one, may not have gotten off to the best start this week, but she doubted Gary would bother setting a trap, let alone bother to rescue them. She shook her head to clear it. “Well, thank you again. I’m just glad you were out there.”
Gary nodded once more and tipped a finger to his chin in acknowledgment. As the laughter reached them from the main tent, she noticed that he seemed more than content to be left alone with the sun on his face and the glaciers at his back.
She took a moment then to look around her, to remember where she was and how fortunate she was to still be here, still living and breathing. She felt a wave of anger flow through her body at the thought that someone might have tried to take it from her. Anger at whatever, or whoever, had taken it from Bruce when he had only just discovered it.
“Sorry Bruce,” Kea whispered to the wind.
Regrets, she thought as she turned away to head for her tent, I have a few.
“He’s a queer one,” Gary croaked.
Kea followed his gaze to the edge of the campground. Tony was skirting the edge of the trees, carrying a large pack of some kind. She honestly had no clue where he was going at this time of night.
“Yes,” Kea said thoughtfully. “He really is.” She toyed with the idea of following him, of finding out what he was up to, but found she was too exhausted. Besides, it most likely involved Ísadóra, and the less she knew about that, the better.
Tomorrow, she thought Tomorrow will be a better day.
Chapter 15
Day Seven
Kea woke in her sleeping bag feeling like an overcooked burrito. Despite the glow of sunlight that illuminated her tent, a glance at her phone showed that it was only four in the morning. Unable to fall back asleep, her mind kept replaying the events of the past few days. Was she was going crazy? Maybe there really wasn’t anything going on. Or should she run around screaming for everyone to run for the hills, to keep them all safe.
They’re going to be fine, she told herself over and over. They’ll have the day off, then tomorrow they’ll be on the first shuttle back to the city and then fly home.
For the funeral.
Kea looked across at the jumble of clothes, food wrappers, and notebooks that comprised her tent floor. Platy, the toy Bruce had given her, sat half-buried in a pile of laundry. Its fur and stuffing torn asunder, it regarded her silently with its one good eye.
Unable to stand its accusatory gaze any longer, she wormed out of her sleeping bag and routed through her gear until she found a sewing kit.
“This may hurt a bit,” she warned, as she threaded the needle, “but I can’t have you lying around like this.” She tucked the stuffing back in and sewed it back together as best she could. “There you go.” She propped him up on her pillow. Truth be told, she was terrible at sewing. The result was less platypus, more purple teddy bear-zombie hybrid. However, he had two eyes and a smiling face again.
For the first time in days, Kea felt like she had accomplished something.
She glanced at the clock again. Still early.
Staring at the ceiling of her tent, she felt her mind slipping away, her thoughts spiraling once more into a mess of fear and confusion.
“Nope,” she announced. “Bored now. I’m not lying around freaking out. I’m not doing this.” She pulled on some clothes and grabbed the toy. “Come on, Pus, let’s get some work done.”
***
Crawling out of her tent, she walked through the campground, picking her way between the maze of tents in the haze of the mist. Yellow depressions in the grass marked the sites abandoned by the Icelanders, a worrying sign of the bad weather still to come. While the sky was bright, clouds hovered around the periphery of the ice cap, coloring the horizon a charcoal gray. Skirting the campsite as quietly as she could, she made her way to the main tent. As she had hoped, it was empty. A quick scan of the whiteboard informed her that Julie had arranged a trip to the hot tubs later that morning. Bless her. Some of the others had signed up for various hikes up to Skógafoss and Morsárjökull, which meant they would be gone for quite some time. The rest would be sleeping off a hangover before packing up to head back to the city and begin their ‘real’ vacations.
She took advantage of the time to make toast, slathering it thick with marmalade and dollops of margarine, and brewed a large cup of tea. Thus armed, she dug out the maps, booted up her computer and did what she had come thousands of miles to do: she got to work.
She received her first surprise when she discovered that Julie had not only already uploaded the GPR data of the esker, but also the measurements of the exposure collected by the volunteers.
Someone else, Kea suspected, wasn’t getting any sleep either.
She examined the three-dimensional model of the esker that burrowed into the ice. While the GPR transects still needed to be cleaned, she got a general sense of its dimensions. There was a minor deformation due to ice melt, but the structure as a whole remained intact. Previously, Kea had only ever studied eskers after the ice had retreated, leaving nothing behind but a jumble of rock and mud. She noticed that the proximal crevasse fills were also captured at depth by the GPR data. They rendered as numerous, almost box-like features nestled around the esker, their cavities jam-packed with sediment.
Julie had struck dissertation gold, Kea thought. The model on the screen might provide insight of how different phases of the flood added to the feature, adding layers as the water and sediment rammed its way up through the ice before bursting out through the margin and finally receded as the supply of water dwindled. For now, though, Kea was interested in other locations on the sandur where similar landforms may have existed to get an idea of where the next flood may emerge.
She scanned the map and identified a couple of landforms on the outwash plain comparable to Julie’s assemblage of structures. To the west lay the ghost of an esker-like ridge. It was farther south, abutting the mountain wall. Maybe an esker, hard to tell. The crevasse fills seemed far too delicate a feature to have survived anywhere else.
She frowned and pulled up the photographs of the section Erik and Jon had mapped. There in the exposure wall she saw a cross-section of the crevasse fills preserved in the sediment, which meant the outlets were moving progressively eastward, as they suspected. But how far?
“What are you looking for?” Julie stood beside her, frowning at her GPR data on the screen.
Kea swore. “You scared the crap out of me.” She turned back to the data. “I’m trying to figure out where it will go next.”
“The glacier?”
Kea shook her head. “The next flood.” She considered the map again. “The glacier margin has retreated, what, nearly a kilometer in some places, since the 1996 eruption, right?”
“And lowered vertically.” Julie grabbed another map from the file drawer and laid it on the table. “Here’s the surface and subsurface maps from the radar flights the Met office did back in 1997.”
Large in scale and coarse in resolution, the profiles gave an estimate of the ice surface and the valley floor it rested on. Kea compared estimates of some of their recent survey points on the ice. “Already more than two hundred meters lower, just in these few locations. Which completely changes the pressure regimes.”
“Well, the main outlet emerged in the central area,” Julie said, pointing to the map. “And we know from the carpet-bombed sandur that when the glacier was advancing the floods occurred all across the front margin.” Her finger slid along the margin, finally stopping near the middle of the glacier’s snout. “The main outlet of the 1996 flood was here in the central area, but the next one could really be anywhere
east or west of it.”
“I know that,” Kea said quietly. “I was hoping to narrow it down to a couple more likely options.”
Julie brushed the 1997 radar map with the back of her hand. “Three generalized profiles do not a provide a detailed subsurface. I can’t model anything off this.”
Kea traced the edge of the margin with her finger again, attempting to mentally piece together everything she had seen in the field. “Those upwellings to the east, it could emerge there.”
“What on earth happened to him?” Julie had spotted the repaired platypus.
Kea grunted. “I’m trying to piece my life back together.”
“I think we’re going to need to find you a better seamstress,” Julie commented. “Otherwise, I hate to think what your sex life will wind up looking like.”
“This is the most likely spot.” Kea tapped the ice valley near the east where the upwellings were most abundant, and the ice was the thinnest.
“It could just as easily emerge in any of these spots here,” Julie randomly tapped three spots along the margin. “The deposits left within and below the ice during the last flood are still there and could deflect drainage a hundred different ways. Plus, the ice has lowered, among a dozen other factors. We don’t have enough data of what’s going on under the ice to even begin to model it.”
“I know,” Kea agreed. “I just have a hunch.”
Julie arched an eyebrow. “Willing to make a bet?”
Kea didn’t get a chance to answer, as Marcus threw open the tent flap and headed for the coffee pot.
“Just got a call from the Met office,” he said, lighting the gas burner. “More activity under Vatnajökull over the last few days apparently, although they said they’ve had trouble with a couple of the monitoring stations. Looks like just a few minor swarms at this point, a sign of more activity under the ice cap. We could see some flooding in a few days.”
“Or in six weeks, after we’re long gone.” Kea stared into her tea and watched the steam shimmer and blur.
“That’s fantastic.” Julie was visibly bubbling with enthusiasm as she headed out of the tent. “I’ll go tell Tony.”
It was Julie’s first time at the site with volcanic activity, Kea remembered. Oh, to be young again.
“I thought you’d be more excited,” Marcus said, as if implying that her mood was somehow now important to him.
Perhaps my nearly dying had that effect on him, Kea pondered. Assuming, of course, he hadn’t been the one who tried to kill her.
Stop it. Stop.
She forced a smile. “Sounds like a minor eruptive event at least. I guess I just feel like I’ve had enough excitement for one field season.” This wasn’t the first time that they’d had similar warnings only for there to not be a major flood weeks or months after they left. “Let me know if they think there might be enough meltwater to float the ice dam.”
“Even though the others are headed back, we can still pack a couple more days of research in. You should still have no trouble making it back in time...” Marcus blew out a long breath, leaving off the phrase ‘for the funeral.’ “I have some proposals for next season that I’ve got to knock out this morning before giving the team a sendoff. I’ll hole myself up at the cafe at the visitor center. You?”
“I still feel a bit... odd.” Kea played the tired card. She really didn’t want to have a conversation right now. Too many things were still going around in her head, like ‘did you try to kill me yesterday?’ “Catching up on a paper or two sounds brilliant, but I’ve still got to get my gear off the ice. Might snag Tony and Julie to help and one of the volunteers. Speaking of, did I miss anything else while I was... busy warming up last night?”
Marcus shook his head. “It got pretty tame after midnight or so. Caught Gary washing his socks in the washing basin though. Not sure how long that’s been going on.”
Kea pulled a face at her now empty teacup. “Oh lord.”
“Indeed.” Marcus smiled again. “He knocked back quite a lot of the whiskey. Not sure where it was all coming from, to be honest. He told quite some interesting stories. Did you know he used to work in Hollywood? He used to work with a lot of celebrities and was in a couple movies.”
“Sorry?” Kea wasn’t sure how to digest that piece of information. “I would never have guessed.”
“Goes to show,” Marcus said, “never know what people have hiding in their pasts.”
How true that is, Kea thought.
***
Kea exited the tent head-down and nearly plowed straight into Zoë and Cole. They were both wearing their EO jackets, but Zoë’s hair was drawn up into a tight ponytail, a sharp contrast to the unkempt brown locks of her son. Behind them, looking equally disheveled, Nadia and her father stood side by side, rocking on the balls of their feet, eager to get inside the warmth of the tent.
“Morning.” Kea gave Zoë a genuine smile. She tried to give Cole her best equivalent, even though she couldn’t help thinking, Yes, you and everyone else know that I was naked with your mother last night. Now stop staring.
“Morning.” Zoë mumbled, not fully awake yet. “How are you?”
“Not bad,” Kea replied, not wanting to dwell on the aches that had seeped into every muscle during the night. “Surprisingly. Mostly I just want to avoid everyone for a bit and try to focus on getting back on track with work. How are the others?”
“Haven’t seen anyone else up yet,” Zoë said. “I think everyone is taking advantage of having a chance to sleep in.” She waved her son into the tent, stroking his hair as he passed. “Time for a shower. You’re starting to stink.”
“He can have my slot,” Kea offered. “I think I hogged enough of the camp’s water last night trying to thaw out.”
“By the way,” Zoë handed Kea a field notebook, “Tiko wanted me to give you this.”
“She was really sweet,” Nadia commented. If she’d been traumatized by her adventures the previous night, she gave no outward sign. “I’m going to miss her.”
“Miss her?” Kea asked.
“Sorry, thought you knew.” Nadia waved in the general direction of the highway. “She and Reynard left about an hour ago.”
“What? Why?” Kea’s confidence floundered. Why does no one bother to tell me anything?
“She spoke to her father last night,” Andrei explained. “After hearing about the recent... events, he insisted that she head home. They caught a ride with some campers back to the city.”
“They can’t just leave...” Kea groaned. Still, the inspector had said everyone was free to go. “I wish she’d have said something. Wait, Reynard too? I didn’t realize they were a couple.”
Nadia and Zoë exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
“Kea.” Zoë said with a wry smile, “You know Reynard’s gay, right?”
Kea rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I really never thought about it.” I really am completely oblivious sometimes. She let out a long breath, trying to take in the new information. “Reynard left because he was afraid too?”
“Nah,” Nadia shook her head. “I think he was pissed Derek was ignoring him after they, you know.”
Kea threw her hands up. “Wait. Wait, just wait a sec. You’re saying Derek and Reynard-”
“Yep.” Nadia nodded, already bored with the conversation.
“Derek,” Kea repeated slowly. “The guy who hits on every woman he sees?”
“Yeah, well, Derek hits on everyone he sees,” Zoë remarked pointedly. “Anything with a pulse really.”
“When did all this start?” Kea demanded, unreasonably offended that someone else would have the nerve to explore their sexuality during her field season.
“On the ice that day,” Nadia said. “While Marcus and they were drilling, they were off doing some of their own-”
“Nadia!” Andrei cuffed his daughter lightly on the shoulder.
“Oi!” Nadia yelped. “They did! Least Reynard said they did. The last couple of days thou
gh, Derek has been all about Lexie now that she’s paying him attention.”
“I’m beginning to think,” Kea sighed, “that I’ve no idea what’s going on here at all.” She started walking away.
“Where are you going?” Zoë called after her.
“Research,” Kea said, tapping her nose. “Right after I make about a dozen phone calls to EO about my little dive and let them know about Tiko and Reynard.”
“Okay.” Zoë hesitated. “But what about Romulus?”
“Don’t worry,” Kea reassured her. “We’ll get your drone this afternoon.”
Zoë nodded her thanks and slipped into the tent. Andrei followed close behind, leaving Kea to survey the campground that was only just beginning to stir. It seemed unnerving, somehow, to see it so empty. Tiko and Reynard had just bailed without warning, like canaries in a mine.
Not to mention, Kea thought, if Reynard and Derek had nipped off into a crevasse that day for some canoodling... that just left Marcus, Tony, and Jon near the site of Bruce’s death.
If she were completely honest, she didn’t know if she could rule out any of those three as suspects. She fumbled with her phone to call up the Eco Observer main phone number and resigned herself to a morning of paperwork.
***
Kea stared unenthusiastically at her laptop’s display. The latest draft of her submission filled the screen, covered with highlights, comments, and callouts. She’d spent a half-hour revising the paper and hadn’t even gotten through the first two pages. The requested alterations to the diagrams alone would take at least three solid days. She pulled up a game on her phone and knocked out a couple of rounds, trying to clear her head. At least EO had been fine with Reynard and Tiko leaving; they were adults, they’d paid upfront through the company and had left of their own accord. Besides, everyone would be gone by tomorrow anyway.
Watching the icons on her screen explode, she realized that her brain was still too numb to be productive. She slumped back against her sleeping bag and stared around the tent, and found her gaze drawn to Tiko’s sketchpad.