Errant Shot
Page 2
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The meteorite had several local rocks fused to it from when its still slightly molten outer shell impacted the bank of the lake. After chipping them off, he began the familiar routine of initial tests to determine its likelihood of being a meteorite and not a meteor-wrong. First, he retrieved a refrigerator magnet and placed it against the stony object, which readily jumped out of his hand and onto the rock from nearly six inches away. “I'd say that's a yes,” Tim said, affirming its magnetism to the empty apartment.
Next, he grabbed a piece of ceramic tile from the laundry room closet, leftover from the last remodeling, he presumed, and rubbed the rough side of the tile back and forth on the object. Surveying the results, he concluded that it was most likely not iron slag, magnetite or hematite, which could look very similar to meteorites and were also magnetic. However, those materials left tell-tale colored streaks on the ceramic that readily identified them, even to an amateur.
Finally, it was time for the 'window' test: grinding a small area away to reveal what was under the fusion crust, the charred outer layer of the meteorite. He used a cordless drill and the same small grinding bit he had used with his previous finds to etch his 'window' into the object, right there on his living room floor. He already knew it contained metals from the weight of the object and the exposed area that had reflected light and caught his attention. He was ready to see the scattered, slivered pattern of nickel and iron mixed into a binder of stone, but the highly reflective and uniform distribution of metallic material he found left him vexed. “This one is special,” he whispered.
He took another picture with his phone, then sent the photos to his email address, where he promptly forwarded them on to Professor Winston at the university. Both of Tim's legs bobbed up and down with excitement as he sat in his desk chair and composed his message. “You're not going to believe this...” the message began, “...but I found a piece of last night's fly-by over K.C., and look at the size of this thing! It's magnetic and, as you can see from the pics, it is full of metal. I'll bring it by as soon as I get myself cleaned up,” the email concluded.
After sending the message, he stared at the space rock for a moment, taking note of the finger-sized depressions melted into the surface. The regmaglypts, more commonly known as 'thumb-prints', had formed when the outer material sublimated away as the object heated up from friction with the atmosphere. He tried to picture the projectile hurtling through space, then punching through Earth's protective shell at over sixty-thousand miles an hour, glowing bright-white as bits of metal and stone transformed from solids directly into gases. Tim's phone rang and brought him back from his reverie. Looking down, he saw the familiar jumble of numbers that was one of the many university extensions. “Professor!” he greeted the call.
“Timmy my friend, you have got to get that thing over here right away. Last night, over Kansas City, it was an air-burst. That may be the only piece of it that made it to the ground,” Professor Winston told him.
“Well, I was going to...” Tim began.
“No, no, forget about whatever you were going to do first. Bring that over here right now, and I'll even throw in a free lunch,” the professor informed him.
Although, Tim knew all about the professor's free lunches: not-always-fresh cafeteria food. He couldn't complain though, not really, the professor was all about the science, and he had gotten Tim paid very well for many of his past finds. He was, in fact, indebted to him for his current lifestyle, which he enjoyed immensely.
“If it's is big as it looks in the pictures, this one is going to be worth quite a bit,” the professor added, “You might just be able to take that trip to Florida this year after all.”
“Alright...” Tim reluctantly exhaled, “I'm on my way.” He packed up the rock, put it into the back of his SUV and headed off on his nearly hour-long drive to the university, deciding he would stop for drive-thru on the way, opting for the lesser of two heart-burns. The thoughts of fishing up and down the Gulf Coast of Florida, from the pan-handle to the Keys, entertained him as he drove.
Tim pulled up to the back of the university's geology department to find Professor Winston and three of his students waiting at the double metal doors to greet him with a wheeled cart at the ready. He backed the SUV up to the walkway as the professor grabbed the back window latch, even before the vehicle had completely stopped. The team partially unwrapped the meteorite and admired it, each one pointing out features of interest, then gathered it up and took it inside to begin their investigation. It took the efforts of all three students to move the thing and even after it was on the cart, the men had to push while the female student pulled and walked backwards up the walkway ramp.
“This one is special my friend,” the professor began, “We've never recovered one this soon after an impact, and this is the only piece that has been found. We've been following the reports all day, but nothing else has been located as of yet.”
Tim lit a cigarette and with great effort, retained his enthusiasm as the grim reality of those injured and killed by the event tried to dominate his thoughts. “So, how bad is it?” he tentatively asked.
“Fourteen dead and over two-hundred injured... and a lot of property damage. The city is at a stand-still. They've called in the National Guard,” the professor revealed.
Tim felt a pang of guilt in knowing that he was going to profit from the situation, and while he and the professor took steps to keep him anonymous, he really didn't want to be linked to this one. He offered, “Man... that's pretty bad.”
“Yeah. We'll proceed just as we have in the past. As soon as we have the confirmation on our end, we'll send some samples out and have them independently verified. In the mean time, I'll keep you posted on what we find here,” Professor Winston concluded.
“Take your time...” Tim said, dropping his cigarette and grinding it into the pavement with his shoe, “...I think I am going to take that fishing trip.” They said their goodbyes after the professor had confirmed the estimated value based on rough weight and density calculations; forty to fifty-thousand dollars, depending on the actual composition, was his educated guess.
Tim was on the phone as soon as he was out of the university parking lot, pulling up the number he had wishfully saved in his contacts list nearly two years prior. He spent the ride home smiling and laughing as he booked a two-week fishing trip, both freshwater and saltwater, with lodging, food and guide services included. He was on cloud nine, and the only thing that could make it better was if he had someone to go along with him. After his last breakup, a three year endeavor that ended in cursing, object throwing and several calls to the police, he was done with dating, and most people in general. But Tim was getting tired of doing everything alone. More and more as of late, he found himself wishing for someone to share his time with.