He was lighthearted, always telling people most geologist were. Scientists always got a bad rap for being serious, when in fact, most in geology were actually very fun loving people.
Gene was one of two people in the lab that week. Everyone else was out in the field, except his intern. Gene sent him for a burger and some Starbucks coffee.
“That’s age, my friend.” Gene set down his mug. He kicked back in his chair, legs up on his desk, staring at the large computer monitor where he video chatted with his lifelong friend Tom Foster. He had known ‘Tommy’ since they played something called ‘Tee ball’ together. It used to be the earliest form of baseball for five or six year olds. A pipe like post held the ball and the kids would swing at it, teaching them how to hit the baseball.
Gene probably still couldn’t hit a ball off a tee. He wasn’t even sure little league even had it anymore.
He talked to Tom once a week, it used to be more texting, until Tom went through the divorce a few years earlier and then suddenly they had something else in common again. Only Gene wasn’t married anywhere near as long as Tom and he certainly didn’t have children.
“Yep, age,” Gene said. “Your hair and waist go at thirty, your eyes at forty and andropause at fifty.”
“What?” Tom laughed the word. “What the hell is andropause?”
“Male equivalent to menopause.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“There is. I’m a scientist, I know these things.”
“You’re a geologist.”
“Still. I know these things. Look it up,” Gene told him.
“I will. Maybe that’s what it was,” Tom said. “I honestly couldn’t remember where I parked my car.”
“It was Walmart. No one remembers where they parked their car when they walk out of Walmart,” Gene replied. “You get so caught up in there it leaves your mind. It has nothing to do with age.”
Tom shrugged. “When I was walking around, hitting my clicker, some kid … well, he wasn’t a kid, he was Gabe’s age, like thirty.”
“It’s a kid to you.”
“True. Anyhow, he called me an old man. He said, ‘Did you lose your car old man?’ I must be showing my age.”
Gene looked at Tom. To him he didn’t look old, neither Tom nor himself looked young anymore. Tom had gray mixed in with his dark blonde hair. Unlike Gene who was all gray. Both men held off the facial lines pretty good, but their necks gave them away.
“You don’t look old, Tom,” Gene said. “You look tired. You’re fifty-two years old and you beat the hell out of your body every single day.”
“It’s construction. Even though I’m project manager, I still can’t stop getting my hands dirty. I love it. But … vacation is finally here.”
“Not much longer?”
“Less than twenty-four hours. The boys are excited.”
Gene laughed.
“What?”
“Your grown ass sons are not excited about going to Vegas with their dad. Now …” Gene cleared his throat. “Maybe they’re excited because Uncle Gene is showing up the last couple days.”
“Can you get away? You said you weren’t sure.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna get there.”
“That’s excellent,” Tom said.
Gene shifted his eyes when he saw his intern. “Oh, my Starbucks is here.”
“You’re so pampered.”
“I am not, I like my pick me ups.” Gene glanced up when Kyle, his intern, handed him the beverage and kept on walking. “Thanks,” Gene told him.
“Is that pink?” Tom asked.
“It’s good and your color settings must be off on your computer because this is green.”
“Oh, stop, it is not.”
The ‘beep’ of an incoming inter-system message, caught Gene’s attention. “Hold on, Tom.”
“Sure.”
Gene opened it, not thinking it would be anything important, he certainly wasn’t expecting to see the image. “What the hell?”
“What is it?”
“I just got a picture of a dead cow from the deputy director.”
“What does a dead cow have to do with you?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” Gene said. “Looks like I have to go to Montana.”
“When?”
“Like …” Gene read the message. “Now. I mean this is vague.”
“I’ll let you go. If you can, let me know what that’s about.”
“I will. Thanks. Talk to you later, buddy.”
Gene ended the video call and his focus went back to the picture of the cow.
In all the years Gene knew Deputy Director Susan Diel, he had never known her to be so vague. Yet, she was. The message merely stated for him to be at the airfield in thirty minutes and she would meet him at Harding, Montana because she needed him there. Susan was meticulous, but her message, oddly, had typos, which told Gene she rushed to send it. He knew by looking at it something had to be horribly wrong. What a dead cow had to do with his department, Gene would just have to wait a single flight to find out.
TWO – IN DEEP
Hardin, MT
There wasn’t much time to think on the flight that was less than two hours, but Gene did his best to try to wrap his head around what a dead cow in Montana had to do with him.
He deduced it had to do more with Susan. They had worked together for a long time, and Gene was a senior science advisor, more than likely she needed him there for an argument or to convince an official about something.
But a dead cow?
That would be agriculture, not geology. He hadn’t seen or heard of any unusual seismic activity
