Rings of Fire Ch. 06

Lauren hovered in the doorway of the command center. The place was buzzing with activity. On the wall furthest from the door, three large screen television sets were playing the news; CNN, BBC, and Al-Jazeera in English. Faces seemed most intent upon BBC, which was covering the ongoing eruption in Iceland.

Against one wall was a row of computers, several were occupied by what appeared to be grad students. On the one closest to her, Lauren recognized data from the USGS on seismic activity off the West Coast. Nothing special, this sort of information was generally available on the Internet. On the other wall were a couple of doors, probably private offices.

Lauren scanned the room once more, looking for Brent and seeking any familiar face at all. But she did not recognize anyone. She hesitated for a moment, reluctant to enter this inner sanctum. She had already turned and was about to leave when the door opened from outside.

In walked Brent, she recognized the tall, thin auburn headed beauty with him immediately. It might have been five years since they had spared at an international conference on climate change, but Lauren swore that this woman did not look one day older. She envied the woman, whom she knew was almost a decade older than her, but could still pass for twenty-something.

Monique Fournier was a climatologist. The glorified weather girl of sorts had made a name for herself by jumping into the fray surrounding global warming early. But she had quickly diverged from the consensus, favoring instead the theory of a New Ice Age brought about by the halting of the Gulf Stream. It was the science of Hollywood movies, and Monique had dropped from favor because of her alliance. For the past five years, she had not published a single article in a peer-reviewed journal.

Neither had Brent; it suddenly occurred to Lauren. Was this place what they had been up to? Looking at the natural way that they laughed with one another, a streak of jealousy coursed through her. Had they been up to something more than just junk science?

The thought tormented her as scenes from the morning's lovemaking with Brent played like a bad movie in her head; Lauren tried to push past them. "Excuse me. I was just leaving."

Monique smiled; a look that Lauren always felt was a little too perfect, a little too practiced, and much too calculating. "Lauren, dear, so nice to see you again. I hope you are getting settled. Brent was telling me about his trip to England."

Lauren could only imagine what Brent must have said to the woman. How easy it had been to convince her to come. Easier still to get her into his bed. Hell, not even a bed. Rutting around in the wild like a couple of senseless teenagers. She cursed herself for being a fool. It was apparent from looking at these two that it was she, who did not belong here — she, who was the third wheel.

"I just bet he was," she spat, pinning Brent with a glare that she hoped conveyed her annoyance with him for taking this woman into his counsel. What was between them was between them. Certainly not some joke to be shared with this...siren.

Brent cleared his throat. "Something isn't quite right with the model. We were trying to figure it out. I told Monique how glad I was for a fresh set of eyes."

"Yes, you always were so good at the application side of things. Algorithms and data checking is more your forte. Those kinds of things do my head in. Brent and I are much more the big picture, theory types," she purred.

Lauren fought back the urge to slap the woman. If she had spent any time doing the calculations and checking her ludicrous theories, her career might have amounted to more than merely consulting with Hollywood on low budget sci-fi movies. "Yes, well, without the right maths, those theories will never be accepted by our peers. Is that why you have not published in what? Five years? Ten?"

Monique shifted uncomfortably. But it was Brent that stepped in then. "Monique has been a bit busy, helping me out around here. We have all watched enough of those movies to know that what we are working on here would never be accepted anyway," he smiled. That thousand-watt grin that he always used to smooth things over with her.

After all these years, it should not have worked. She should have pushed right past him. She should have said enough with this whole crazy thing. She should have demanded that he put her and the girls right back on a plane home.

But she did none of those things. Instead, she said, "Yes, well, if you still want my help then perhaps those fresh eyes you were talking about could find where your calculations are off." She turned to Monique, smiling proudly she added, "We wouldn't want Monique to do her head in with all those algorithms now, would we?"

Brent laughed. The deep, rich melody washed across her skin like a thunderstorm after a long drought. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Her nipples pebbled painfully inside the lace that suddenly seemed too rough for her skin. She could feel the blush rising from her chest, up her neck to her face. She knew that in moments, her cheeks would be the same bright red as her hair.

Monique glared at her. "Yes, well, Brent, mon ami, I better get going. There are some other things I need to check on."

Turning back to Lauren, she crooned, "It was nice to see you again, mon cheri. It always amazed me how such a smart woman could be so damned stupid when it came to some things. But at least you had the sense to listen to him this time. I'm sure we'll be seeing lots more of each other this week."

Before Lauren could come up with a pithy reply, the woman had turned and disappeared back through the door. She felt the angry frustration coursing through her body. Fuming, she turned towards Brent. "You want to show me your formulas. Anything that woman had something to do with is bound to have big holes in it."

"Monique may be unconventional, sweetheart, but she is the second best mind I have ever met." Insulted by his words, Lauren started to push past him. "You always were an arrogant bugger. Since the two 'best' minds have already been working on the damned thing, I don't see what I could possibly add."

He smiled, "Second best. Like I told you last night, darling, you were always the one mind that I loved sparring with the most."

Lauren looked down at her shoes. The heat was returning to her cheeks. Hesitantly she said, "Oh well, sorry then. If you want to show me the data and algorithms, I'll see what I can do."

Brent placed his hand at the small of her back and turned her back towards the large room. "I'll get you set up in my office. You still take your coffee black? Afraid there isn't any tea around here, not much call for it. But I'll ask Jill to add some to the supply stocks for the command center."

"Coffee will be fine," she mumbled as she followed his lead across the room towards a closed door.

Coffee and tea were not what occupied her mind. The familiar way he touched her, even something as casual as a hand on her back, it was enough to distract anyone. How was she supposed to focus upon complex theorems when he touched her? When he looked at her like that.

Opening the door, he ushered her into the small office. It had only a desk, chair, and bookshelf. But she noticed there was a framed picture on his desk. It was the last family picture they had taken seven years ago. She picked it up as he fumbled with the computer, turning the machine on, and entering his password.

Her fingers caressed the lines of his face through the glass. She remembered that day well. They had taken Elise to another doctor. She was supposedly the best in her field. But Brent had stormed out halfway through the meeting, unsatisfied with the grim prognosis that the woman offered. Lauren had finished the appointment alone.

They had barely spoken two words on the long drive from London to Oxford, but the moment they were inside their house and Elise was tucked safely into her bed for an afternoon nap, they had both unleashed.

Sharp words that bit to the bone. Allegations flew. 'You don't want to accept the truth.' 'You see only what you want to see.' It was the beginning of the end. The divide created by those words grew with each day that past. Both so profoundly hurt that there was nothing left to say.

But the moment that Megan had come bouncing into the house, shouting a reminder about the family pictures, they had both plastered smiles on their faces. Like robots, they had functioned on autopilot to get the girls ready and drive across town to the photographer that took their picture each year. The photograph that they used on their holiday cards.

This picture looked like any other — a happy young family. But if you stared at it for a moment, you soon realized that things were not as they appeared. Each adult clung tightly to a child, careful not to touch one another in any way. The smiles too seemed stiff, not reaching the eyes or the soul.

Lauren shook her head and placed the photograph back on his desk as he finished bringing up the program that powered his model on the screen.

"I'll get you some coffee and tell the others not to disturb you. I have some more things I need to check on. When you finish, let me know."

Lauren smiled and nodded. How like Brent to realize that she would need time alone to dissect and analyze the information. But then again, they had worked together for most of their lives. And if she were honest with herself, it felt damned good to be working with this man again.

***

Brent pondered the exchange between Lauren and Monique as he checked once more on the preparations that security was making for the new arrivals. Once he sent out the call, what was now a trickle would rapidly escalate to a flood.

As it was, there could be no more air extractions from Europe, but several people were making their ways to alternatives. He was leery of attempting a sea rescue at this point. If La Palma did erupt...and if the weakened flank of Cumbre Vieja did collapse...well the models, according to 'source,' were as unreliable as his and Monique's.

And those scientists had been just as discredited as they were. The scientific community could be as cliquish and unforgiving as any other group with its 'in crowds.' Anyone, who did not conform, was, of course, ostracized. But he had never been a conformist.

He chuckled, was his bad boy of science what attracted Lauren, to begin with? He had to admit; he had missed their mental sparing as much as he missed the sex, holding her at night, and his daughters.

"See you been keeping company with the Missus again Doc," Samuel chuckled as he came up to stand next to Brent by the vast world map with blue and red dots that hung on the wall.

"What makes you say that, old man?" Brent had just sort of adopted Daniel's nickname for their friend.

"That smile," he replied as he fingered the dots scattered across Eastern Europe. "What about them?"

"I was thinking the same thing myself. Jason said that we dare not attempt another flight into Northern Europe...even using a Southern flight plan across the Atlantic like we used to come back. And I am not comfortable using boats. Not even my father's oil tankers stand a chance against a mega-tsunami. Well, we don't know for certain, depends on whose Sim you believe, but it is not worth risking lives, in my opinion."

"Agreed," said Samuel. "Which leaves air extractions from Northern Africa," he pointed to Morocco. "Or Asia, but where from?"

Brent pointed to a tiny spot on the map, "Bhutan is the most stable and friendliest option. I will make a couple of calls to my contacts. See if they will allow us to use their airfields. But even then, that means stopping to refuel a couple of times on islands in Indonesia and Hawaii." He frowned, "And perhaps even land journey from the West Coast, depending on the situation."

"Damn it," he ran his fingers through his hair. "If we only had a better idea of what to expect."

Samuel chuckled, "Back to the Missus, are we?"

Brent shook his head and laughed, "I never left the woman. And yeah, I got her set up on my computer before I came here. I am just hoping she can figure it out before it's too late."

"Are we talking before your week is up or before things get out of hand?"

"Both, either," Brent replied, trying to focus on the map and looking for answers to questions they did not fully understand.

After a moment, he gave up and turned back to his friend, "Heard anything from your folks?"

Samuel sighed, "Yeah, Dwayne and Chloe made it as far as West Virginia. They are held up there on the farm, making final preparations for the trip and waiting for as many of the others to arrive as possible. Most of the wives and kids are either there already or heading out soon."

His face tightened, "Of course, the guys can't leave until the last moment. Only in the worst case..." He sighed and shook his head, "Is this even really happening, Doc? I mean I know we put all this hard work into this place, but I guess..."

"What? Did you think I offered you some cushy job?" Brent put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "I didn't mean it like that. I understand...all of this must have sounded like one of those cheesy movies you watch on television on a Sunday afternoon."

"And to answer your question, I don't know yet. Not for certain. And that is the problem. By the time we do..." He could not even bring himself to say it.

"It might be too late?" said Daniel from behind them.

Brent turned to face him as he nodded reluctantly. Unable to even admit it aloud.

Daniel crossed the room, pointing to four blue pins in the map. Two in England, one in Germany and one in Southeast Asia, "Those are Jill's sons. Look me in the eye, Doc. Is it too late for them?"

Brent felt helpless. It was not the first time over the past two decades he had done so. There were too many of them to count. But he knew that as bad as those were, the magnitude of this one could eclipse them all combined.

But this was not just his employee; these were his friends. Hell, they were closer than family. And they deserved the truth, "I don't know, Daniel. I'm doing my best here to figure things out."

Daniel nodded as he put his hand on Brent's shoulder, "I'm sorry, Doc. I know you are. And I know how heavy a burden this is for you. But I need as much information as I can get. Those boys are smart. Given half a chance, my money is on them to find their way here somehow. But we have to give them that chance, Doc. If those were your sons, what would you do?"

Brent weighed the question seriously. He knew that Jill's sons were in the military. More than a few of their people were. But while it was one thing to delay to the last minute as Samuel said with their people in the US, it was another to do so with thousands of miles and an ocean separating them and especially with Katla already closing off much of the air travel across the Atlantic.

But if he was wrong. If as Lauren pointed out, this was just a single Icelandic eruption, no matter how bad. He was playing god with the lives and careers of people he cared about. And on what? This was more of a gut feeling at this point. Certainly not something he could prove scientifically. Hell, he could not even make his own damned simulation work.

To be fair, though, he had risked his life and Jason's, as well as jail, to 'kidnap' his family. He was doing everything he could and worrying himself sick about his brother. Hell, he had even tried to convince the pompous old bastard that he called a father to join them.

"Daniel, I can't take that kind of responsibility. I can't give the bug out order to any essential personnel. Not yet. Not based on what we know so far."

He paused and inhaled deeply before continuing, "But you didn't ask that, did you? You asked what I would do if those were my boys. You know how much you and Jill mean to me. Hell, I'm closer to all of you than I am my own flesh and blood."

"So, to be honest, get them out. I can't tell you if it may be too late already, but I do believe that every day, every moment we wait makes it riskier." He sighed under the weight of it all, "But be honest with them. This is their careers and their lives that are on the line. If I am wrong. If they leave their posts now..."

Daniel squeezed his shoulder lightly, "Doc, trust me, you don't have to tell me the risks those boys are taking. And even if they chose not to leave, I need to make sure they have the opportunity." He sighed, "Even if it will kill their mother."

Brent wished again that he had better answers for his friends. Something more than the certainty of uncertainty. But it was a story that was all too familiar. As much as his wife and other 'esteemed' colleagues wanted to believe otherwise, volcanology and honestly most of the sciences were as much a guessing game as a trip to Las Vegas.

A very high-stakes poker game, partly based upon odds and partly the luck of the draw. Calculated risks that cost people, usually other people, their lives. And as much as they might like to dress it up with formulas and theories, the truth was that his gut was just as valid a predictor as anything else.

And that was what he was betting on. Not just with Jill's sons, but with his wife too. The odds were getting higher by the minute. And he just hoped that this time Fate was on his side.

***

Lauren was still pouring over the data and calculations several hours later when Megan popped her head into the office.

"Mum, are you coming to dinner? Grandmam has made a nice casserole out of the leftover roast and some potatoes," the young girl asked as she stood in the doorway.

Lauren blinked to clear the glare from the computer screen. She noticed that the outer offices were empty and dark, except for the dim glow from the mainframes as they continued their work. How had she let the time slip away from her? But it had always been so easy to do when a new theory or problem caught her attention.

She still was not buying the snake oil of total destruction that Brent was selling, but after hours trudging through the data he and his team had collected and archived, she had to admit something unusual was happening.

The need to see the project to its end warred in her mind with her responsibilities as a mother. Looking up at the smiling face of her eldest child, she wondered how many dinners had she missed in pursuit of science and her career.

Wasn't that part of the problem? What brought her here, to begin with? She had so lost touch with her family that it had been easy for her grandmother and daughter to conspire with Brent. She remembered her promise that morning as the plane landed, to get to know her children. Well, no time like the present, as she stood up and stretched.

"Sure, I'm coming to dinner."

Lauren was a bit shocked at how happy and surprised her daughter looked at her pronouncement. "Just give me a couple of minutes to shut down the computer."

Megan smiled and nodded. "I'll wait by the televisions," she pronounced as she disappeared into the other room.

Lauren smiled, even if the world was coming to an end, some things could still be counted upon, like teenagers' attraction to television. She turned back to her work, hitting a few keys to save her files and shut down the computer for the night. Then she walked across the tiny enclosure, pulling the door closed behind her.

Like she had said, Megan was sitting at one of the desks near the display of large screens. Her face glued as the latest news show ran footage of the Iceland eruptions.

Lauren felt the intense need to reassure her child, realizing for the first time the weight that Brent's plans and the secrecy must have carried for Megan.

"You know these types of eruptions are cyclical. Iceland is right in the middle of the mid-Atlantic Ridge. As a divergent tectonic region..."