Chapter 17

The newlyweds approached life like they always had. She, the investigative reporter, wanted to know everything about the Kama Sutra. He, the geeky chemistry teacher, checked out their amino acids ... and other flavors.

They had spent an exhaustive two weeks on the Big Island ... the naturist resort definitely had its attractions ... she being among the top three and his trouser snake made the list too. Alas, all good things must come to an end ... work called; she had an assignment ... he had lesson plans.

They had friends ... the friends had their own Citation X ... they were flying back to the continental US gratis. Good friends ... with a producing gold mine in their backyard. Not that the gold mine produced much, but the tourists had great fun panning for gold every spring, summer and fall. The tourists paid twenty-five dollars a bucket and got to keep whatever they panned. There was nearly always a flake or two. The friends kept quiet about the black sand.

Three, maybe four times a season, someone scored a homerun. Nuggets as large as two and a half ounces were panned from the sand in the buckets and that kept people coming back. Just like the slots at the Reservation Casino ... somebody wins ... it's how you keep people coming back.

The Citation was approaching the single runway field when the teacher ... We'll call him Jack ... when Jack noticed the National Forest was looking shabby. It had been looking shabby for several years, he just hadn't noticed. It takes a good look at the forest before you can see the trees ... the trees weren't looking green ... they were more yellow. There seemed to be a yellowish smog like haze drifting in from the ocean.

Jack pushed the intercom button and asked the pilot if he could make a run about a hundred or so miles back west and fly low and slow over the water. That settled, they did a 90 and flew out past FAA territory. The water had tiny bubbles ... well ... from this height it was tiny bubbles ... bubbles big enough to swamp a 30 foot cruiser ... if you were right down there in it.

Jack took out his cell and called his good buddy, the Forest Service biologist.

"Where are you?" Jack asked.

"Walking on the beach picking up dead seagulls?"

"You wearing that god awful orange rubber suit again?"

"I'm in the business jet flying directly at you."

"Hi!"

"Meet me at the airport?"

"Sure thing."

After deplaning (Stupid Word) The chemist and the biologist put their heads together while Mrs. Jack ran over to the TV station. Her assignment had a lot of similarity with the very subject the biologist and Jack had ... to wit ... dead sea gulls and bubbles on the ocean.

Not only were the gulls dying ... the fishing had turned to shit. Washington had been informed but there wasn't any money it it so the politicians ignored the peons ... nothing unusual there. And besides that, there seemed to be multiple earthquakes ... not daily ... but hourly. There were so many earthquakes that the USGS had stopped posting hourly results but was now reporting the daily total.

From Lassen Peak to Silverthrone Caldera, the Cascade Arc had an awful lot of steamy clouds in the craters ... Nothing dangerous ... according to the government ... no danger here ... just a general hot water release. It did seem strange that only the volcanoes inland from the Juan de Fuca plate were venting.

What was interesting was the high acidity of the local ocean ... the chemist ran some tests. Sulfuric acid ... Was someone acid mining gold? At seventeen hundred dollars an ounce (and change) greed could easily seduce a few miners into making a quick buck and fading into the woodwork Then there was that habitual rotten egg smell that everyone in town had become accustomed to.

Miss Fortune Kaulocamloes, Seer, Prophet, Sage and all around mystic, had a wonderful time at the Rotating Open Circle. (The ROC was an attempt at sharing the monthly rituals with area covens. Since every one of the covens 'borrowed' the House circle for their second Saturday gatherings, Mina and Megan decided to make their house The Place. The only time there wasn't a ROC at the house was when there was a full fledged four day holiday ... on those eight gatherings the house circle and camping meadow was in use from Friday through Monday.)

Sunday, the trio loaded up in the Beech and flew the 27 miles to Sharpe field and spoke to Harold. Money changed hands and Missy was seated in the Cub ... one of the older residents was seated in the front. Missy asked the time honored question, "How do you see from here?" Which produces the same response ... the plane started doing the hokey-pokey ... swing to the left and look at the runway ... swing to the right and look again ... until the tail comes up..."Oh." Missy said.

They puttered around the sky.