by Beth Martin
“Yeah.”
“This is the span reading from during that earthquake yesterday.”
“It moves,” she observed.
“Yep. In fact, we could use these reading as a primitive seismograph.”
“All right.” She glanced briefly at him before gazing back at the computer screen.
With a couple clicks, he pulled up another graph. “There was another earthquake a week ago. Do you see anything different?” He displayed the two graphs side by side, and she studied them before answering.
“The earthquake yesterday was bigger,” she said.
“Here’s another earthquake from ten days ago,” he commented, adding the third graph to the screen.
“I don’t see anything.”
“It’s there. It’s just subtle. That one was only about a two on the Richter scale. But both the earthquake a week ago and the one yesterday were close to a three in magnitude.”
“But this one is bigger,” Grace said, pointing to the larger peeks on the graph from the previous day. “How could they be the same if the one yesterday looks so much bigger?”
“The tremors must have been more pronounced in the shale layer where the span is read, two miles below the surface.”
“Okay,” Grace paused, taking in Peter’s excited face. “What does that mean?”
“The epicenter for the earthquake yesterday was closer to the span device than the one before. Dr. Hall would find this fascinating. I’m sending him all of my data to get his opinion.” He noticed her look of indifference. She wasn’t nearly as excited as him.
She continued to watch over his shoulder as he collected the pertinent data from each earthquake and forwarded the information to Dr. Hall.
“So, uh,” she interrupted, “did you need me to do anything?”
“No, you can take a break for lunch.” Before the words had even left his mouth, she disappeared out of the lab. He looked back at the graphs on his computer as Grace’s car engine revved before the vehicle peeled out and racing down the road.
CHAPTER TWO
By some miracle, Grace stayed in Last Chance. The pair soon fell into a routine―Peter made coffee every morning, which Grace drank with at least five heaping spoonfuls of sugar. After eating a bowl of granola, he would venture down the well with Grace to gather readings from all of the equipment. The rest of the morning Peter spent in the lab going over all the new data while Grace read research articles and texts he provided her. Having only taken one course in geology, she had a lot of work ahead of her to get up to speed on the current research in deep geothermal energy.
Peter always ate lunch at the lab by himself while Grace went out. He spent the time reading his favorite web comics and commenting on a variety of internet forums.
In the afternoon, he’d respond to emails and deal with the more business side of being an academic, whether that was preparing grant proposals, writing lectures, or organizing upcoming conferences. Then, he’d lead a web lecture for the online course he was teaching before calling it quits for the day and heading into town for dinner.
Usually, he wouldn’t see Grace in the afternoons. She didn’t seem to want to spend much time at the lab. It was also possible she didn’t want to spend time with him.
Since he didn’t own a car, Peter rode his bicycle into town. He always went to the same café and chatted up the owner while he ate. After dinner, if he didn’t have any errands to attend to, he would go back to the lab and unwind for a few hours before turning in for the night.
This was the routine every day. Even on weekends, they would venture down to the cave to collect data, and Peter would bike into town at dinnertime.
After two solid weeks of this, Grace rebelled. She declared that she would not be neglecting her social life all summer and would spend the next weekend in LA visiting friends. Only after getting ample time to unwind for a couple days would she return to Last Chance.
This was how Peter found himself on a Saturday morning, yearning to venture down the well after finishing his coffee and granola. But he couldn’t—not if he didn’t want his project shut down. All of the values had seemed to hold steady for the past few weeks. If it was deemed safe, Dr. Hall would approve the next phase: a permanent habitat underground. The biggest obstacle would be getting enough funding to construct it.
The ground began to tremble underneath his chair. Peter braced himself against the desk as the lab shook around him. His few dishes clattered in the cabinets, and his coffee sloshed out of the mug and onto his papers. He was more sad about the loss of coffee than the sogginess of his notes, and since he only used pencil, which doesn’t smear when wet, his papers would be fine once they dried out.
As the ground settled, and the groaning of the lab structure softened, he looked around to survey the damage. Other than the growing coffee stains and all the smaller items being slightly askew, the lab looked the same. Still, he knew without a doubt that this tremor had been bigger than the previous one.
He desperately wanted to go down to the cavern and check the span readings. The continuous recordings would give him a clue of how strong the tremors were deep underground. There was nothing he could do now to collect the new data, but the tremor did make him wonder if Dr. Hall had reviewed the information he had sent. Even though it was a Saturday, he decided to try and reach his department chair on the phone.
“Hello, Peter. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Terry. We just had another earthquake. I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to go over that data I sent you a couple weeks ago.”
Dr. Hall let out a low, jovial laugh. “You are so lucky, I’m actually on campus right now giving my daughter a tour. She still thinks she wants to go to UCLA.”
Peter could hear Dr. Hall’s daughter let out an exasperated “Dad!” in the background.
“Yeah,” Dr. Hall continued, “I forwarded your email to one of my grad students. I don’t know if she actually did anything with it. I guess I could check with her on Monday.”
“Thanks, that would be great. I would really appreciate it,” Peter said.
With a beep, Dr. Hall hung up and Peter went back to staring at the numbers on his computer screen. He would have to wait until Monday to get more info on the newest earthquake.
As he stared at the computer screen, he got a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hey, uh, it’s Grace.”
Her call surprised him. He got the distinct impression that she neither cared for him nor his research. “What’s going on?”
“I heard about the earthquake. Well, I actually set up an alert on my phone to let me know about any tremors in Last Chance—you know, before I left.”
“Okay.”
“I,” she paused a moment. “I just wanted to make sure that the lab was still there and the hole hadn’t caved in or anything. You know, to see if you actually need me to come back on Monday.”
He hadn’t thought to check the well. Even if he couldn’t climb down there, he could at least visually inspect it. He got up from his desk and went out the door. “Thanks,” he said. “The lab is still here. I haven’t checked the well yet. We’ll be able to get more information about the earthquake when I download the continuous feed from the span device once you get back.”
“Right.” Grace paused. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
“Monday,” he agreed before hanging up.
···
Peter spent his Sunday evening looking over all of the openings listed on the Geology Job website. With his post doc at SLAU ending in a couple months instead of a year, he needed to find a new post doc for the fall if he expected to be employed after his current position ended.
This was the downfall of being an academic. While others his age were settling down, starting families, and excelling in their careers, Peter was still establishing himself. SLAU was only his second postdoc, and most people in his discipline had to work through at least three
postdoctoral fellowships, each one lasting from one to three years, before finding a tenured position. Once they secured that elusive tenure, then life really began.
Of course, he fantasized about meeting the right person and starting a family. His last position had taken him to Alaska. The next one could send him somewhere even more exotic. He didn’t want to drag a potential wife and kids along for several moves across the world with no promise of future security.
Normally, he saved his scotch for while he graded papers, but since the online course he was leading at the moment had computer-graded exams, and he was all alone at the lab, he poured himself a glass.
As he sipped the last little bit, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a message from his friend, Autumn.
sup?
He typed in his message, Not much, you? before pouring more into his glass. He went outside and sat on the steps leading to the front door and watched the sunset over the mountains in the distance.
A silver sedan glimmered at a distance, and he waited as the car approached. Grace parked next to the lab structure and emerged from the car with a large handbag slung on her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said as she approached him.
“Hey,” he responded. “How was your weekend?”
“Technically not over yet. What are you drinking?”
“Finest discount scotch they sell in town,” he said, lifting his glass before taking a sip.
“I want some,” she said.
“Help yourself. I left the bottle on the counter.” He slid over to the edge of the stoop to give her space to pass by and enter the building.
She disappeared into the lab, and Peter pulled his phone back out while he waited for her to return. He had another message from Autumn. I met this new guy, Jared. Sunshine is totally jealous. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Sunshine was Autumn’s roommate and made it no secret that she liked Autumn in more ways than one.
He typed a message back―Hope it works out―before slipping his phone back in his pocket.
The door slammed shut behind him as Grace came back outside. She sat down on the step next to him with her own glass of scotch, setting the bottle down on the concrete below them.
“I haven’t had enough experience drinking liquor yet to tell if this is really good or really bad,” she said.
“It’s bad,” Peter said, taking the bottle and filling his glass. “You feel that burn when you drink it?”
Grace took a careful sip, then winced.
“That means it’s bad.” He smiled at her pain as he took a swig. “You are old enough to drink, right?”
“Eh,” she said before knocking back the rest of her glass, making a disgusted face, then refilling it. “I will be soon enough. My birthday is in a month.”
Peter shook his head in disapproval.
“You really like this whole geology thing,” she stated.
“I do,” he confessed. “I’ve wanted to study rocks since I was a kid.”
“I have no idea what I want to do.”
“You’ll figure it out.” She didn’t say anything, and Peter started to feel uncomfortable as the silence stretched on. “Beautiful sunset,” he commented.
“I guess.” She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “How long do you intend to stay here, in East bumble-fuck Colorado?”
“Until the end of the summer.”
“You must be excited to go back to LA,” she said, idly twirling a lock of hair.
“Not really.” He swirled his glass, watching a vortex form in his drink. “My post doc at SLAU has been cut short. I still haven’t found a new position for next fall.”
“What’s a postdoc?”
“Postdoctoral position. It’s academic purgatory for people who have their doctorate, but aren’t established enough in their discipline to get a tenure track position.”
“What’s tenure?” she asked.
“It basically means you can’t get fired.” He drank the rest of his glass before setting it down.
“What? Not even if you suck at teaching or fail an entire class?”
He laughed. “I’ve heard stories…”
“Oh my God!” she said, her eyes widening. “You have to tell me.”
“I think that’s enough for now.” He stood up and took the rest of the bottle of scotch with him before opening the door. “I’m going to turn in.”
“Good night,” she said, raising her glass before drinking the rest.
···
Grace had gotten used to the up and down of the auto-belay system which rapidly lowered the pair to Peter’s equipment two miles below the surface. She no longer clung to the rope like she had the first time, instead letting her limbs hang like a rag doll while waiting for her feet to reach the ground.
The span reader had fallen over, probably during the most recent tremor, and now laid across the rubber mats. Peter looked at it and poked at the display. Even though it still showed a number, the little green light had gone out. He tried to hoist it upright, grunting with the effort, but the device was just too heavy for one person to set up.
“Looks pretty broken,” Grace said.
“No, it seems to still function. I just can’t get it back in place.” She pointed to the top where the spring-loaded arm could retract to measure distances. There was a bend in the steel, preventing the arm from going in or out. “Shit.” He set it down with a heavy thud. Since he was out of funding, there was no way he could afford a replacement. And even if he could, it had taken a herculean effort to get the equipment down here.
Without the span reader, he might as well give up on the whole project. He wiped a hand over his face. “I have to fix it.”
“How?” Grace asked, idly twirling a lock of hair.
“I don’t know.” He could feel panic welling up in his chest, making his heart rate accelerate and his breathing shallow. He had to take a minute to compose himself while she stood in one spot looking entirely bored. “I have to fix it,” he repeated.
She ground the toe of her shoe into the rubber mat. “Maybe if you could make if a bit taller.”
“That’s it!” he said, clapping his hands, the loud sound echoing through the cavern and making Grace jump. “You have a car.”
“Yes…” she said tentatively.
“Cars have car jacks. We could use it to prop up the span reader.”
She shifted her eyes. “Does my car need its car jack?”
Peter shrugged. “Probably not. We’ll bring it down tomorrow and set it up.” With the crises handled, he was able to work his way around the cave and collect the rest of the data.
While he recorded numbers into his tablet, Grace ventured deeper into the cavern. “How far down can you go?”
“Quite a ways, perhaps even another mile.”
“And it was just down here? This cave?”
Peter sighed. He had given her literature on her first day, detailing the fracking activity which had exposed the cavern. “Did you read the book I gave you?”
“I skimmed it.” She made a point to roll her eyes before venturing deeper. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she bellowed a loud, “Hello,” and then paused to listen to the echo the chamber made. As she continued looking around, Peter finished collecting the data for the morning.
She turned to him and asked, “Why do you study geology?”
“I study geothermal energy with an emphasis in deep geothermal potential,” he corrected. “I study it because I find it interesting.”
“Yeah, but something must have inspired you to pick deep geothermal potential over something cool, like biology.”
Peter chuckled. Biology shouldn’t have even been considered a science. “I liked physics, but instead of getting a job after college I decided to attend graduate school. My mentor was interested in renewable energy, and grants for applied sciences are easier to get than for theoretical sciences, so I was able to obtain funding for my deep geothermal energy research before I even
finished my graduate degree. Once I received my PhD, I got a postdoc in Alaska for a few years and learned about fracking firsthand before getting a position on Dr. Hall’s research group at SLAU.”
Grace idly combed her fingers through her hair as she walked back toward Peter and the well. He had finished collecting his data and was already connecting his harness to the winch system.
“You lived in Alaska? That must have sucked.”
“No,” he said, reflecting for a moment before clipping Grace’s harness onto the pulley as well. “It’s a beautiful state. I enjoyed my time there.”
“What was that?” Grace asked, her voice tense.
Before he could ask what she was referring to, Peter felt it as well. The ground below them groaned before it started to shake. Grace instantly fell to the floor and curled up into a ball, covering the back of her neck with her hands. Peter crouched down over her and watched as his expensive data-collecting equipment began to tremor with the ground, but overall stayed put. Only a moment later, the shaking quieted.
One all was still again, she slowly got back up to her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“I should check the equipment…” Peter began.
“Check it later. We need to leave before there are any aftershocks.”
“This isn’t California,” he pointed out. “These tremors aren’t caused by a fault line; there won’t be an aftershock.”
Grace shuddered, clearly not comforted by his words. “Just get me the fuck out,” she said softly.
“Of course,” he said, and with a tug on the line, they zipped toward the surface.
CHAPTER THREE
All the plates and glasses at the diner rattled as the ground shook for a moment. After a few seconds, it was over, and everyone returned to their meals.
“Okay, you need to tell me what’s up with all these earthquakes,” Grace said, her hands still gripping their table. By that point halfway through the summer, they had experienced several earthquakes.
