The Navigators (2 page)

Chapter Two

T
he words “Florida Mining and Minerals, Number 32” greeted us on a worn plywood sign at the conclusion of our two hour drive. The elderly gatekeeper waved a wobbly hand at our trucks as we entered the site, barely glancing up from his newspaper.

There were no big elevators that lowered workers into deep holes here, like the coal mines in movies. We didn’t wear hard hats with little lights on top. Florida mines were immensely wide and mostly flat. The sandy soil couldn’t support a deep hole without falling in on itself.

We were supposed to stay in a cluster of five for safety, but we never did. Everybody had their preferred dig partner, and we usually split up in twos or threes.

Riff and Barry would pair up, allowing Barry’s methodicalness to balance with Riff’s eagerness to just dig and go, dig and go. Barry had a good eye. He often unearthed a particularly interesting specimen based on clues in the surrounding soil.

The other team would usually end up being Melissa and Roger. Even though they had broken up as a couple, the two of them remained friends and usually worked well on a dig. I suspected it might be a case of "friends with benefits" but chose to look the other way. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.

Working by myself, I usually “floated,” drifting between the other groups. Our instructors frowned on floating, but we all did it on occasion.

The miners turned up hundreds of acres of dirt when they extracted the valuable phosphate from a site, but their tailings–the sand and material to be discarded–created a treasure trove for paleontology students. It’s hard to see a fashion model on Miami’s South Beach, or a pale, potbellied Canadian tourist walking around in a Speedo swimsuit in Sarasota, and think of a woolly mammoth strolling along right next to them. But aside from a geological tick of the clock, they’d all be side by side on the beach getting a tan.

With Melissa and Roger digging on a site over the hills on the left, and Barry and Riff scouring the slopes on the right, I could float. I worked with whichever pair I wanted, or both, or go off by myself. We were never too far from each other, anyway; always within yelling distance—plus we had safety whistles in our pockets and flares on each of the All Terrain Vehicles, as required.

I took a shovel of sand and dumped it onto my sifter. The wooden frame box with the metal screen on the bottom, a large version of a kitchen colander, only allowed particles smaller than a half inch to drop through as I shook it back and forth. I could then view anything interesting, and dump the rest out.

Dig, shake, pick through it, dump it out, and start over again. Not exactly Indiana Jones.

But none of that was really a problem.

There were many dangers on a sandy dig site in the middle of nowhere. Little or no phone reception meant we had to carry heavy two-way radios. Few, if any, mining personnel were around to offer help if something went wrong, and there were no doctors within an hour’s drive. Caution was supposed to be the rule of the day, because we were essentially on our own. But since we had done these things so often enough without anything bad ever happening, we allowed ourselves to think that nothing bad ever
would
happen. Safety rules became something followed more out of politeness than caution, if they were followed at all.

Manners can go out the window on a long, hot day, too. With the sun beating down, the air gets stale. It’s so stuffy that even the slightest breeze can feel like a blast of air conditioning. A moment or two in the shade of a tree—which are scarce even on the perimeter of a mining site—yields a fifteen or twenty degree drop in air temperature, a godsend.

We guzzled our water and snacked on light carbs in the stifling, unrelenting heat. By noon we would be exhausted. The temporary relief of rain only allowed the heat trapped in the sand to release, sending humid waves of steam into the air. At the mines, it was always hotter after a rain than it was before. But, propped up by the possibility of discovering the elusive “big find,” we’d press on.

Everybody marked their holes with simple red wire flags when we worked on flat surfaces. Digs on the side of a hill or at the water’s edge were a different matter. With enough rain–and a ton of it came every afternoon in summer—everything could slide right into the water, ruining the dig spot, or worse. If it rained overnight, the flags might not even be there the next day. The loose soil couldn’t hold onto any of it.

That made the dig spots on the side of the hills and slopes the most interesting—and also the most dangerous.

The intense rains constantly uncovered new goodies among the freshly extracted, loose soil—but it could be tricky working on that kind of ground. One foothold might work just fine, but the next one might not hold at all, sending an unsuspecting digger into the water with their precious fossils bouncing alongside, lost forever on the bottom of the murky silt pond. Or the poor sap might end up buried under a few tons of sand that came loose, quietly covering everything up as the sunlight disappeared in a wave of gray mud.

Digging at the water’s edge or on a slope was big time
verboten
if the miners were around, but in summer supervision was nonexistent, so our digs happened on wherever the dirt looked best.

By mid-morning, I was already beat. I slogged up to the ATV to refill my water bottle. Sweat had seeped right through my first shirt, and the fresh one I’d changed into had almost become soaked now, too. I scanned the site to gauge everyone’s progress. Barry and Riff were working a side slope near the water. It was a good strategy, digging there early in the day. In the afternoon, the sun’s angle would reflect off the water and be too blinding to work, even with sunglasses. Plus, the reflected light would cut through the best SPF.

Roger, shirtless, tanned and rippled, with his red handkerchief tied around his neck, worked with Melissa, who tended to stay under her ever-present umbrella. He would start out fully clothed in the traditional khaki attire–mud colored, perfect for diggers–and end up nearly naked by the end of the day. He tanned but never burned. Melissa, on the other hand, worked through a steady stream of sunscreens, hoping to not have her chosen field let the sun age her face and hands before their time. But the heat got to her, too, and her pony tail would get tied tighter, her shorts folded shorter, and her shirt tied up in a knot in front–anything to let some air through to her skin for a little reprieve from the heat.

My spot produced some interesting teeth. Sharks, camels, horses and manatees, all lumped together now by bulldozers and backhoes after having existed separately in the dirt for thousands of years. Barry and Riff, now shirtless too, seemed particularly intrigued by their hole in the hillside. I decided to go check it out.

The sand of the slope was loose. Half walking, half sliding, I made my way over to them.

“Whaddaya got, boys?”

“Peeky, you’re just in time.” Barry motioned to a pile of assorted small shovels. “Grab me a seven iron, would ya?”

I picked up a hand spade. “What is it?”

“Not sure. Some sort of iron ore deposit around a big bone fragment.”

Sweat dripped from Riff’s forehead and streamed down his back. “It’s definitely metal, whatever it is. And big. But it’s blocking me from what might be a mastodon jaw.”

“Really? Nice!” I tried to contain my enthusiasm. That would be a great find. Lucky, too, on the first day. “Can’t you tell for sure?”

“It looks like it’s upside down, and it’s stuck in some clay and this damned metal piping,” Riff huffed. He tossed the spade aside and took a few deep breaths. “It’s really stuck good, and it’s kicking my ass.”

“What kind of metal?” I asked.

“Oh, some kind of discarded construction re-bar or something,” Barry said. “Or a fucking washing machine or bicycle frame that some fucking asshole dumped out here in a creek bed fifty fucking years ago. Who the fuck knows.”

He was exhausted from the fight and it was showing in his choice of adjectives.

“You guys need a break. Let me get you some Gatorade from the ATV.”

Barry nodded. “Thanks, maharaja.”

“No problem,” I said. “Think about breaking for lunch, soon, too.”

“No way.” Riff grunted, attacking the walls of the hole he had surrounded himself with. “We need to press on, old chap. Or the rain might take this away from us this afternoon.”

I smiled. “Yes, we wouldn’t want you to lose your antique washing machine.”

He looked up at me, closing one eye to help block the sun. “Well, I know you and Prachi have been saving up for one. This was gonna be my Christmas present to you. Or Ramadan present. Whatever you guys celebrate in India.”

“Bada Din,” Barry said quietly.

“What? Bada bing?”

“I live here now, so I will celebrate Christmas just like you. Besides, many people in India celebrate Christmas,
old chap
.” Then I started off to get the Gatorade.

Barry sighed. “Riff-Raff, you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“What’d I say?”

“Tomàs, hold up.” Barry trotted after me.

I stopped and turned.

“Sorry about, you know, Riff.” Barry hooked a thumb at the hole. “He’s an idiot sometimes. He’s a buddy, though; he really doesn’t mean anything by it. We’re all hot, so nobody’s mouths or brains are working right. He’s just trying to be funny.”

“I know. No harm done.”

“Not everybody’s been around as much as some of the rest of us.” Barry blinked back a bead of sweat from his eyes. “You still thinking about moving in with us and getting out of that cramped dorm room?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking about it. We’re good.”

“You could Skype easier with Prachi and the rest of your family back in India. Besides, it’s just gotta suck being surrounded by all those freshmen.”

“It’s certainly something to consider.”

Barry nodded. “Well, I’d love to have ya.” A smile crept across his face as he squinted in the bright sunlight. “Okay, then.” He made his way back to his dig site.

As I trudged off to get a drinks for the crew, I scanned the horizon to find Melissa and Roger. They were sitting under the umbrella, a few feet from their own hole.
Maybe they know enough to take a break. Good. Can’t risk a heat stroke on the first day.
If we didn’t find something encouraging, nobody would want to come back tomorrow anyway.

I quietly whispered a Ganesh mantra from old India under my breath, asking that the thing Riff had been digging on would turn out to be something interesting, the kind of find I’d been dreaming of.

Chapter Three

“M
an, this umbrella isn't getting the job done.” Roger balled up his t-shirt and dragged it across his sweaty chest. “I'm burning up!”

He had already stripped down to just his shorts and boots, with a handkerchief tied around his neck. His voice bounced off the surface of the water and sand, up the hill to where I stood at the ATV. It was almost like he was using a megaphone.

“It's better than nothing.” Melissa wiped her brow with her shirt sleeve.

“Yeah, maybe…” Roger looked at the turquoise water of the retention pond. “That's it, I'm going for it!”

He pulled off his boots and socks.

"What you doing?"

I admired his spontaneity. I cracked open a bottle of water but the cap slipped through my sweaty fingers and fell to the ground. I squatted to retrieve it.

Roger jumped up, yanking down his shorts and underwear. “It's okay. A lot of minerals but nothing poisonous.”

“Don't go in that stuff!”

He winked. "Don't worry. Just don't swallow too much.” And with that he raced toward the water.

I kneeled behind the ATV, silently chuckling at Roger’s antics. Melissa stood and watched him from under the umbrella as he bounded into the retention pond with a splash.

“Oh, my God, that is so dangerous!”

The large pool was lined with small sandy areas squeezed between huge piles of dirt, with occasional cliffs rising anywhere from a few feet high to taller than a three story building. Melissa’s umbrella rested near the dig spot at the top of one small hill and the bottom of a larger one.

Roger’s head popped up. He laughed. “Oh, man, does that feel good. Whew!”

“Be careful,” Melissa said. “You don't know what's in there.”

“
I'm
in here.” He splashed around, swimming and rolling.

I shook my head, searching for the stray bottle cap. Even on a mine site, we tried to be good guests.

“But there could have been a boulder right under the surface. Or sharp lime rocks. There’s all this loose, uneven ground… discarded equipment.”

He flipped over onto his back and exposed himself to her. “Here's a piece of discarded equipment for you.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Seriously, you could have gotten hurt. You… you could have broken your leg just now. Then the dig is over for everybody. It was stupid.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” He paddled around on his back for a moment, then stood up. “So are you coming in, or what?”

Melissa stood with her mouth hanging open.

Mine, too.

Her balancing act. I had overheard her once, on the phone, joking to one of her girlfriends that Roger was an “ex”: EX-tremely good looking and EX-tremely good in bed. And in the morning, she liked him to make a hasty Ex-it.

Roger. Chiseled jaw, ripped abs, smart… If he hadn't decided to take a degree in paleontology, he probably would've been the whole package for some other girl. Watching her look at him, naked in the water, probably brought back memories of a lot of good times – and probably knocked her compass off course again.

“Come on in.” He moved his hands through the water. “This is exhilarating. It’s liquid air conditioning. I can feel my core temperature dropping as we speak.” He fell backwards, smiling and spitting water like a fountain. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

She shook her head. “I can't. Someone will see.”

There it was, his opening. To Roger, every word that came out of her mouth that wasn't the word “no” was almost the word “yes.” Or at least “maybe.” I remained crouched behind the ATV.
If I stand up now, I’ll look like… I don’t know what.

He moved to the shallower water, then turned away from her, standing and walking, splashing the water with his hands. “Oh, my God. It feels great in here.”

I watched her stare at the water, apparently weighing his offer. He was persuasive. It was hot and a swim sounded good. And as she had also remarked to the friend on the phone, the sight of his firm white butt made her want to bite it like an apple. I held my position behind the ATV, wiping my sweaty hands on the legs of my shorts.

She bent over to remove her boots. “Someone will
see
!”

“No one will see. They’re all so caught up in their own digs, they’re not even looking over here.” He splashed some more. “Besides, who cares if they see?”

“I care.” She sat, pulling off her socks.

“Oh, this is so great.” Roger let water drip from his hands as he swirled around. “You really need to get in here.” Then he fell backwards with a dramatic splash.

She hunched over and glanced towards the other dig site. So did I. He was right. No one else was even aware that they were there.

Almost no one else
…

I swallowed hard. Melissa tugged at the button on her shorts. “I'm not getting naked.”

“So don't. Leave your underwear on. It's fine.”

She removed her shirt and shorts, revealing her slender, curvy physique.

Good God
. I looked away, but somehow my eyes wandered back.

Half covering herself, half running, she made her way down the slope to the water’s edge, her small round butt bouncing under her thin white panties as she ran. She eased into the pond. “Oh, this
does
feel amazing!”

“It does, doesn't it?” Roger said. “It's awesome.”

She swam over to him. “Good call. I was dying up there.”

He splashed around, gazing at her through her wet clothes. The water was just cool enough to make her nipples hard, and I could tell he was admiring the view.

“Stop staring at me.”

Roger moved toward her. “I can't help myself. You’re too beautiful to not look at.”

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, but she quickly pushed away.

“Cut it out.” She glanced toward the other dig site.

“Nobody’s looking. Nobody cares. Come on.” He reached over and pulled her close.

He kissed her again, and this time she didn't resist. She put her hands on his shoulders but didn’t push away.

As their lips parted, she looked down. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

“We broke up.”

He leaned in for another kiss, but she turned her head. “When?”

“When I saw you sweating through your blouse earlier.”

“Ugh, you're disgusting, Roger.” She twisted out of his arms and started back to shore.

“Oh, you love it.” He laughed, splashing again.

Melissa kept moving.

“No, no, come on.” He chased after her. “I'm kidding. I'm not seeing anybody. You’d know if I was.” He gave her his puppy dog eyes. “You always know.”

She sighed. “I always did have a soft spot for a big dumb lug like you.”

A grin spread over his face. “Yeah. I know.”

He pulled her close again, and this time she kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around him. They pressed hard against each other. She slid her hand down his body. “Mmm. You are just ready for action, aren’t you?”

“Come on, then.”

I was embarrassed to watch, but like Barry's fabled Florida T-Rex, as long as I didn't move, they couldn’t see me. And if I was discovered, what would everyone think?

She kissed him again, letting her lips linger near his. Then she pulled away. “We can't do this here.”

“Why not?”

“This water is gross. I don't want to get any… where it shouldn’t go.”

“Oh, come on.” Roger lowered himself down into the turquoise pond. “Everybody’s done it on a dig site at one time or another. Or wanted to.”

“Not me.” Melissa frowned. “I haven't.”

He cocked his head to one side and flashed her a brilliant grin. “You haven't done it, or you haven’t wanted to do it?”

“Neither. Both.” She fanned herself. “I don't know.”

Roger stood and glanced around, hands on his hips, his naked torso basking in the sun. “Really? That’s like climbing up on top the roof of the basketball stadium—the Sun Dome. Everybody does that freshman year, like a rite of passage.”

“Not me.”

He nodded towards the sand. “What about there on the shore, then? Nice and soft…”

“Oh, yeah.” She made her way back toward the water’s edge. “I’ll get a sun burn on my tits and a rug burn on my butt from the hot sand. No thanks.”

“Whoa.” Roger chuckled. “Talk dirty to me, baby!”

Melissa glared at him over her shoulder. “Is that what you're into now?”

I crouched down a little, begging to not be discovered. What was happening? She hadn't exclusively ruled out sex on the beach just then. With a few more of his dashing smiles, and a little charm, who knows?

A rumble moved through the bottoms of my feet. I felt it more than I heard it. The surface of the whole pond shimmered in little ripples.

Behind Roger, a cloud of dust curled upwards from the other dig site.

He stared into the water around him. “What the fuck was that?”

“Landslide!” Melissa shouted.

They rushed to the shore as the unmistakable sound of an emergency whistle pierced the air.