41. Advanced Paleomagnetism #3
Maxwell gave an exasperated sigh that rasped at the back of his throat in irritation, but the opportunity to flex his knowledge in his field must’ve been too much to resist.
“Earth has geographic north and south poles that form the axis around which the planet rotates, but it also has magnetic poles because there’s a magnetic field around the planet.
Those magnetic poles shift over time, and as a paleomagnetist, I study those historical shifts.
Sometimes the shifts are small. We call that polar wander.
But every few hundred thousand years or so, the poles flip entirely.
The north end of the magnetic field becomes south and the south end becomes north. ”
“Why would that happen?” I asked. Ciarán’s buzzing thoughts were fading, and I could feel the muscles in his neck relaxing as clearly as if they were my own.
“Heat transfer from the Earth’s core can manipulate electrical currents in the magnetic field,” Maxwell said.
“Heat transfer like from volcanoes?” I perked up.
“No.”
I deflated.
“Geomagnetic reversal is caused by massive flows of molten iron deep below Earth’s surface.” There was a derisive edge to Maxwell’s explanation. “Volcanoes are tiny in comparison. Insignificant, really.”
It was meant as a dig. He knew I wanted to study volcanoes, but it was hard to take the jab seriously when I could feel the magick of volcanoes a world away suffocating me.
There was nothing insignificant about something threatening my grandmother.
“Okay,” I said. “So iron flows deep under the planet’s surface, and that affects the magnetic field, occasionally resulting in the field flipping entirely.”
“Exactly.”
“And then scientists who are too good for their daughters go and study those prehistoric shifts by…”
He gave a long suffering sigh as I trailed off.
“By studying rock formations,” he answered begrudgingly.
Ciarán was properly asleep now, but I continued my questions. My father was, unfortunately, as smart as he was horrible. He answered every question and entertained every hypothetical, all while maintaining a level of disdain only an absentee father could be capable of.
Though, the fact that I had kidnapped him probably wasn’t helping on that front much, either.
He talked until his voice turned hoarse, and then I finally gave him a break. Thirty minutes into our new silence, he startled again, and the van swerved, but he kept it on the road.
“What was that?” I demanded as the others woke up behind me.
“Damn blackouts,” was all he said.
We stopped for gas and food in the evening, which took longer than I would’ve liked because Orla was, once again, absolutely transfixed by the bright snack packaging in the aisles of the gas station mini-mart.
Ciarán took a turn watching over Maxwell in the passenger seat while I slept in the back so that I could take a turn driving at midnight.
I drove faster than I should have, but I couldn’t help it. Every mile brought us a mile closer to Mom. The radio kept me company on the dark highway while the others slept, but when I looked in the rear view mirror, two eyes glistened in the light of the passing headlights.
Fana was awake, staring in the dark outside the car, as tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
My father took over driving again in the morning, which was probably for the better as the roads were slick with rain.
The skies roiled with storm clouds over the coast, and late summer rain smattered the windshield.
Maxwell said the region had been plagued by storms the last few weeks, and I wondered if it was a coincidence or if Gams’s storm was so powerful that it was being reflected across the Rift.
The closer we got to Keel Watch, the quieter we became, bracing for the task ahead. It would happen right away, probably. We’d cross over the Rift, reseal Gams, and retreat back into Keel Watch Harbor to wait for her to project a new Nightmare for herself.
Everything would start to go back to normal, possibly within minutes from now.
An orange barricade sat at the top of Keel Watch Harbor’s main street, presumably placed there by Mom to keep visitors out while the town was away.
My heart hammered two rhythms in my chest—mine and Ciarán’s thundering out of sync.
Gray water streaked with angry white caps blended into the low fog that occluded the harbor. Rain-soaked buildings were dark and empty. The library door still hung off its hinges.
I unbuckled myself while we were still coming down the hill. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t seen Mom in so long. She would be furious with me, of course, after I’d ashed her at our last meeting, but she’d be relieved too.
The van took the bend at the bottom of the hill, turning onto Main Street.
My breath caught in my throat.
There, nestled between two marina shops, was Gams’s gift shop. The windows were broken, the door was gone, and what was supposed to be our entrance to the Rift was sealed with jagged blue stone that filled the building.
The Rift, and Gams’s shop that I’d called home for a few short months, was gone.