Fault Line In The Sand

by Linda Mackay

  “Maybe not, but I’ve become a full-on conspiracy theorist.” Todd searched the trees like he was looking for someone.

  “You should stick to being a volcanologist and leave the other ‘ists’ alone.”

  “If that explosion proves to disrupt the entire caldera and lava starts flowing I’m going to become a magma-murderist.”

  “That’s not a word,” I said.

  “It should be. This park has seen more new geysers, fumaroles, and mud pots appear in the last three months than any time in recorded history. If those responsible turn my happy job into a magma draining nightmare, I’ll throw those bastards into a lava pool.” Todd lowered his voice. “And that includes the new President.”

  I may not have his fear of erupting volcanoes, but I did fear the repercussions of threatening a President. “I wouldn’t let our spies, or the secret service hear you say that.”

  “I was going to vote for that bitch. I hate being duped.”

  “Politicians have been duping citizens for centuries. Neanderthal leaders were doing it. Romans perfected it. My ancestors duped bison herds into running off cliffs. It’s not new, Todd.”

  “It is new to the truth circulating in my prefrontal cortex.”

  “That was profound, my friend.” I laughed, looking behind every tree as Todd’s paranoia began to rub off on me.

  “I don’t think that statement will get me in the Prometheus Society,” Todd said.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” It doesn’t matter how many times something happens, until it happens to you it has little meaning. It’s why history repeats itself. It’s how governments feed citizens subliminal messages to divert them from what’s occurring in front of them so they’ll refuse to believe their eyes. None of this was new. So, why did we believe it was?

  Chapter 12

  Pull harder,” Mac said.

  “Why does a dead body weigh so much?” Todd yanked on the rope pulling the body into the tree away from predators.

  “Stop!” Mac yelled just before the right leg broke off the body and bounced off Todd’s head.

  Todd dropped the rope, and the rest of the body plummeted back to the ground. Brushing his hands through this hair faster than a fan spinning on high he stuck his head close to Mac’s face. “Tell me there’s no corpse bugs crawling on me.”

  “Okay, there’s no bugs,” Mac said.

  “Liar!”

  I brushed off a couple of dead beetles that landed on his shoulder. “That’s disgusting! Those were probably pooping human guts on you.”

  Mac was trying not to laugh, but Todd had made himself an easy target. “At least it’s not maggots crawling down your shirt.”

  “Oh crap, maggots!” Todd flipped his coat off, followed by his shirt. “Anything there?”

  I looked and then flicked his nipple pretending a bug was there. “Just one.”

  Todd started to remove his pants. “Whoa partner, she was kidding you,” Mac said.

  “Leave him alone,” Liz said, “I could enjoy a little strip tease.”

  “Not me.” Mac completed the process of hanging the now partial corpse to keep predators from further degrading the evidence. We’d transported it closer to camp, but not close enough it would attract predators to us.

  “We could pee all over that thing and not taint it any worse,” I said.

  Liz took a bite of a granola bar with her right hand, and held up the leg with her left. “What shall we do with this?”

  “Your call.” Mac said to me as we walked toward camp.

  “Bury it. I think both animals and nature are done with it. And I don’t want a collection of body parts to transport.”

  Mac took the collapsible shovel hooked on the side of his pack and started digging. He made the project look effortless, and it didn’t take him long to complete a shallow pit to fit one human leg. Todd tied a white trash bag around a tree branch to mark the burial spot for easier retrieval.

  Liz and I finished our granola bars and watched. After three months of entombment, decomposition, and being a feast for the local wildlife there was little left except bones with rotting clothes. Thankfully the decaying flesh smell was gone or I wouldn’t be within a mile of it.

  My sniffer was averse to a lot of smells. While cooked broccoli was near the top of the list, elk was my kryptonite, especially during the fall rut. They reeked of a musky scent that to my honker can only be described as post orgy sex with no shower for days after. Not that I knew from experience what an orgy filled room with un-showered participants smelled like. I just extrapolated the math and reached a conclusion. I was also concluding a rancid, decomposing body would make my top five.

  “Did you learn anything while we were gone?” I asked.

  Mac shook his head. “Nothing distinctive about the clothes, no jewelry, his footwear is missing, and of course no wallet with ID or cell phone. “

  Todd looked up at the body dangling in the tree. “He’s one tall dude. Glad we didn’t run into him when he was alive.”

  I tried not to look at the body, but morbid curiosity was stronger than my queasy stomach. “Does he seem abnormally tall?”

  “We measured,” Liz said, “it appears he was between 6’9 and 6’10.”

  “Did he have a bear tattoo on one arm?” I asked feeling completely stupid two-seconds later as there wasn’t a hint of decomposing gray-blue skin left on his arm to show a freckle, let alone a tattoo.

  Todd knew why I asked. “You thinking Ben Loren?”

  “Did you say Bin Laden?” Liz asked

  “No. Benjamin Loren is one of the premier scientists working with LIDAR,” Todd said.

  “It fits the paradigm.” I hoped I was wrong. Ben joked he was the only person with his height who’d never shot a basketball. However, the height he was reaching with his advances in the use of lasers was unparalleled.

  “Only way he’d participate is if he was conned into believing he was working on innovative science,” Todd said.

  “That would explain the hit,” Liz finished a container of water.

  “Go easy on that water. This is all we have until I can filter more back at camp.” Todd shook his half-full container at Liz.

  “This also fits my profile that many of the people involved didn’t know what they were working on,” Mac said. “Why hasn’t anyone reported him missing?”

  “He was single, and lived an even more hermit existence than me,” I said.

  “His parents are alive, wouldn’t they question not having contact for at least three months?” Todd asked.

  “How do you know about his family?” Once again, Dr. Clark you’re in the dark.

  “I’m nosy.”

  More likely, Todd was genuinely interested in Ben’s life.

  “I’ll check with his parents when we get back to the ranch,” Liz said. “If it is him, there will be a cover story for why he was out of touch for an extended period. That cover will include a location conducive to meeting with an unfortunate accident where the body is unrecoverable.”

  “I don’t want to be an unfortunate accident.” Todd whispered and walked toward camp.

  I flicked Liz’s shoulder. “Nice job scaring the help, piranha.”

  “Sorry you were ignored this morning.” Arikira nuzzled her head next to mine, while I rubbed her chin. Chimayo snorted at being left out. “I love you too, pretty girl.” They were like having two children and each one believing they were the favorite. As a good parent, I did my best to let them each think it was true.

  “Like some help with the horses?” Mac asked scratching Chimayo’s ears.

  “They’re mad at me for not untying them early this morning.”

  Mac unhooked Blue. “Be nice to Jorie, not every horse gets an owner as pretty as her.” Blue, Stud and Alfalfa each stomped a hoof. Deli ignored everyone, while Arikira and Chimayo shook their heads…and not in agreement. “Looks like we have a split decision. I believe you’re right, they are holding a grudge.”

  Al
l six horses were now free to graze, and not a single one had taken more than a couple steps from where they were tied. “Fickle bunch of horse flesh.” I swatted Chimayo on the butt. “Next storm I’ll let you roam free and you can get lost and be dinner for a 700 pound bear.”

  “She doesn’t look worried,” Mac said.

  “Maybe not. But I’d be careful next time we mount up. They might let us know how they really felt about being out here in that snowstorm instead of in their warm barn.”

  “Once we get more coffee in you; and Todd and Liz finish filtering water, I’d like to search for where the body was buried until some animal dug it up.”

  “If we can believe the wildlife biologists it won’t be far from where we found the body,” I said.

  “You’re going to make me pay for insulting them?” Mac wasn’t remorseful one bit for his slights.

  “Only a little. Some of them are annoying know-it-alls,” I said. “What are you expecting to find in the grave?”

  “Probably nothing tangible to us. I want to mark the location so a forensic team can come in later.”

  “Promise me I’ll never have to return here again.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  Well damn. “Why not?”

  “It’s a nice location, close to the lake, private. This could become your new favorite camping spot.”

  “It’s not a…”

  “I know,” Mac interrupted. “It’s not a legal campsite. Lighten up, Jorie, you’ll live longer.”

  “At the rate people are dying, I’m not sure a worry-free existence will help my longevity.”

  We watched the horses plodding through the snow with what can only be described as disgust. I’d definitely mollycoddled Arikira and Chimayo. Both took tentative steps and kept looking at me wondering when I was going to drop a cube of hay so they didn’t need to work so hard for a meal.

  “What type of LIDAR was Ben working on?” Mac asked.

  “He started out in bathymetry,” I said.

  “Help me out.” Mac held out his hands.

  “His specialty was measuring the depths of lakes—the topography—especially high altitude ones.”

  “I take it he’s moved on since then,” Mac said.

  “His last paper was about locating new faults in the Yellowstone ecosystem, and measuring their uplift using aerial LIDAR.”

  “How would that make him the best candidate for this project?”

  “You’re calling mass-murder a project?” Will we be writing a paper and submitting it for academic approval?

  “Just answer the question and stop overthinking,” Mac said.

  “If he had access to a robot that could gather chemical and temperature data, while also measuring the seismic activity he could plot vents with significant flow and heat.”

  “I’ll bet the government supplied him with an IMU,” Todd said.

  “What?” Mac was lost again.

  “It’s classified,” I said.

  “Don’t mess with me, lady.”

  “She’s not kidding.” Todd smiled, “IMU is an inertial measurement unit in the LIDAR that can do everything including clean the bathroom tub. Once the tub faucet has a substantial flow of extremely hot water you plug the faucet. Now imagine doing that to lots of tubs called hydrothermal vents that you’ve filled with diet coke and dropped Mentos in.”

  “Now that I understand,” Mac said.

  “He was mapping vents and the terrorists were using his information to create the ultimate bomb,” Todd said.

  “Insane.”

  “Insanely brilliant, which rules out politicians coming up with this plan,” I said.

  “That brings me back to, The Brain, as Ranger Marty called him in July. When we get home I need you to help me research the July obituaries for any death related to someone intelligent enough to create this scenario.”

  “Marty referred to this person as a man, so we know the new female President wasn’t at the top of this food chain,” I concluded.

  “Onsite he definitely had authority,” Mac said. “At least until revocation by death.”

  “In spite of everything, I still can’t help but miss the good old ranger he once was.” I rubbed my eyes. “I wonder why they left him alive as long as they did?”

  “His job wasn’t completed,” Mac said.

  “What the hell was left for him to do?”

  “No idea.”

  “Some spy you are.”

  “I’m not a spy!”

  “Yes, he is,” Liz said.

  “That tastes so good.” Amanda sipped the broth Todd made her for lunch. “So what did I miss this morning?”

  “Not much,” Mac said.

  “Good. I feel like a squirrel run over by a truck, but at least my throat doesn’t hurt too much anymore.”

  “Was the laser signal your dad saw coming from the helicopter LIDAR?” Liz asked.

  “No, that would’ve been something as unpretentious as a high-tech laser pointer,” I said.

  Todd handed me a peanut butter and M&M sandwich. “However, Ben would have LIDAR and GPS active in the helicopter.”

  “Was he killed before or after the bomb went off?” I asked watching Amanda’s eyes register what Mac’s not much meant.

  “Also, wouldn’t he have figured out something was wonky?” Todd said.

  “We’ll probably never know,” Liz concluded.

  “He didn’t set off the bomb.” Mac stated with certainty.

  “How can you know that?” I hoped that was true. Believing my colleagues were duped set better than their willing collusion.

  “If he hesitated, or refused, it would’ve disrupted the timing. Remember, every move a President makes in public is coordinated.”

  “Then I’m going to assume they killed him before the bomb and he never knew, literally, what hit him,” Todd said. “Anything else is too horrific to contemplate.”

  Amanda set her mug of soup on the ground where we’d earlier cleared snow and moved in logs to sit on. “I may have overdosed on booze and medicine, but it seems a lot happened while I was sleeping.”

  “Remember when you overslept in college, missed a lecture, and the next class the Professor gave a quiz on it?” Todd picked up her mug and added more both.

  “Yes, I vaguely remember a few of those,” Amanda said.

  I’d bet there were more than a few. Her intelligence and capabilities weren’t reflected in her grades. Those all-night parties instead of all-night studies hurt her resume. Lucky for me, I didn’t give a flying fig about grades and was more interested in her outstanding performance.

  “What you missed this morning would’ve been 75 percent of your grade.” Todd shrugged his shoulders and frowned at Amanda.

  “In that case, I’m dropping the class and going back to bed,” Amanda said. “Whoever’s hiding the medicine, pony up a big dose.”

  Liz headed for her tent. I followed and while she medicated Amanda, I moved the saddles to the germ-infested tent, holding my breath every time I entered. By the time I put the last saddle inside, Amanda was lying on top of her sleeping bag. “Jorie, were you talking about Ben Loren?”

  “Yes.”

  “They killed him.” Amanda blew her nose. “They used his knowledge and then killed him, didn’t they? Don’t answer, I know the truth and I’m starting to hate people. I think I’ll move to the ranch and hide out with you.”

  “Get some sleep and don’t worry about it.” Did I hide out? Of course I did, but I had a good reason. Too much interaction interferes with my abilities; good shamans protect their spirit. Amanda didn’t need to protect anything. Or did she? Was the earth speaking? Grampa Nus taught me the earth reset when she became out of balance. What if humans had become so selfish, so filled with hate and self-righteous beliefs that Mother Earth felt the time had come to reset?

  Chapter 13

  We’re not going to find anything in all this snow,” Todd said.

  It was also cold and wet w
alking in the shaded forest.

  “We need to move closer to the bay and search for concrete aggregates that were blown out of the water,” I instructed my crew.

  “Oh yes, sunshine!” Todd said.

  “I also would like my tent heated by the sun so I don’t freeze my eyes shut overnight.” Frost on your eyelashes sucks.

  “I’m with the Doc on this one,” Liz said. “Do we still have time to move today?”

  “We’re stuck in the snow palace tonight,” Todd said, “but I’m making buffalo stew and we’ve got lots of decaf coffee.”

  Mac kicked the snow. “I hate this stuff.”

  “You’ve moved to the wrong place then. For the next six months you won’t see anything but white.” Todd made a snowball and threw it at a tree. “You know, with all our snow we rarely have snow this wet to make snowballs?”

  “I’ll take dry, fluffy snow every day over the heavy, wet snow in DC,” Mac said.

  “You may change your mind since our air is so dry your lips will chap and split, your skin look like dried up tree bark, and for many people nosebleeds become a regular occurrence.” I use more lotion in one winter than a spa uses in five years.

  “At least when there’s less water content in the snow it makes shoveling the two feet you get overnight easier,” Todd said.

  “Like he’s ever around to lift a single shovelful.” I rolled my eyes.

  “How much snow do you get every year?” Mac asked.

  “Last year we had 481 inches at the ranch.” I was still hoping to discourage him from wintering over.

  “That’s as much as the peaks of ski resorts get.”

  “Actually, the resort received 560 inches last year,” I said.

  “An unimaginable amount,” Mac said.

  “Better start imaging it if you plan to hang around,” Todd said.

  “How much firewood have you cut for your stove?” I asked pushing his go-back-home button.

  “While you were working in the park a couple of us cut and stacked 15 cords.”