Picking up the Pieces - E. D. James

Arnold flashed from the past back to the present as the caravan of cars led by a green forest service truck moved past the blockades and up towards the cone. Horns honked and hands waved out of windows expressing the joy people felt at being able to return to the homes and cabins that were now declared safe. Arnold only felt his stomach sink and the frustration that had cost him his job five years ago rose up again. He’d almost been able to leave it behind. The meditation, the counseling sessions, and his daily workout sessions had allowed much of the anger to dissipate. But now, listening to the announcers stumble through the information that the seismologists had given them that served as the basis for the decision to open the area around Medicine Lake again, Arnold felt it all well up in him again. He knew in his core that they were wrong. That they were misinterpreting the data and that it would lead to disaster. All that would be left would be to go in and pick up the pieces of what was little would remain of peoples lives and possessions.

He thought back to that day when he had first seen the future in the bottom of Boulder Canyon. It had been one of those clear, still, incredibly hot summer days. As he pushed his raft into the cool water of Cache Creek he felt like one of the luckiest geologists on the planet. He’d spend the day drifting along making a strip map of the rocks that lined the canyon. He had salami sandwiches and beer for lunch and was looking forward to a little beach about half way down the canyon that his professor had told him about. Skinny dipping and sunshine. A fine day ahead.

The cool water kept the bottom of the raft cool. He felt the current pick up as he moved to the center of the creek. The walls of the canyon steepened ahead of him. He paddled into a little eddy at the side of the creek as he entered the section and put the raft up on a boulder so that he could study the cliffs rising above him. At first he thought that what he was seeing was an optical illusion created by the bright sunlight and the shadows of the cliffs. But as he studied it he realized that what he was seeing was something real, something significant. There was a change in the sediments about halfway up the three hundred foot wall. The rocks above had the characteristic reddish, tan hue of sediments that were deposited by rivers and lakes and streams. The rocks below were grey and menacing. He looked down at the map he had brought with him. Those that had gone before him had mapped the color change, but the interpretation was that the darker sediments were deposited into the arm of the ocean that had once occupied this part of the landscape. Arnold knew this was wrong.