April 12
“Are you ready, Lieutenant?” Jim asked as I emerged from the barracks. I had slept well and was looking forward to the new day. The few women sharing the large room had been full of questions that morning and were still milling about, curious about the new “officer” and her high ranking traveling companion.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, a smile tugging gently at the corner of my mouth. I would be very happy to get past this charade and back to our casual names. I picked up my new duffle and followed Jim out the door.
“Let’s grab some grub before hitting the road,” he said.
“Should I put this in the Hummer first?” I asked, referring to the duffle.
“No, I want the others to know we’re in a hurry and will be leaving soon.”
*
We followed 94 to Highway 57, then north where it intersected with M-28 and headed east. The roads had been cleared of buckled asphalt and broken concrete, which now lay along the shoulders in large, unsightly piles. The new dirt and gravel road slowed our speed and it took over an hour to reach the construction site, a trip that in the past would have taken twenty minutes. There was no mistaking the zone when it came into sight.
“Wow, that is impressive!” I gasped, seeing the beginnings of the massive dam. A half mile before the actual activity, we were stopped by another guarded gate.
“ID, please,” the young soldier requested. We handed over our laminated badges. He carefully examined them, checking that the photos were indeed us, wrote something on his clipboard, and handed them back. “Your purpose here, Colonel?”
“Information, Sergeant, and a means of getting across the Divide to my unit in the Soo,” Jim replied smoothly.
“Yes, Sir! If you ask for Captain Argyle at that small building on the left, the one with the red metal roof, I’m sure he can answer any questions.” With that, he gave us a quick salute and we were on our way.
*
“As you can see, Colonel, our progress has been a bit slow,” Captain Argyle said, leading us through a maze of dusty bulldozers, cables, and scaffolding, “Though we are getting there.”
“How long have you been at this now?” Jim asked, squinting into the muted sunlight.
“Just over three months, Sir. We arrived two weeks after the rift opened. Our first objective was to establish a safe route between the two sides here where the work was needed. Then we set about to secure a secondary bridge for the civilian’s further south. This is a restricted area, of course.” Captain Argyle led us over to a map board on the wall of another building. “Our crossing is a quarter mile from here,” he pointed down the new river at a metal bridge in view. “The civilian crossing is thirty-eight miles south of here, and ten miles north of the new shoreline. That gives the best coverage for any that need to get across.” He indicated on the map where the other bridge was.
“I was told there were three bridges, Captain,” Jim said.
“That was our intention at first. It was deemed impractical, and therefore unnecessary.”
“May I ask, Captain, what are you trying to accomplish here, besides the obvious of stopping the flow?” I asked. “And what problems are you running into that is impeding your progress?”
“The obvious is our only goal, Lieutenant. The continuing loss of water from Superior has greatly diminished the shipping lanes. The water level is now down seventy-five feet, and while that may not seem like a lot when the lake has an average depth of over four hundred feet, it is. The lake bottom isn’t consistent and navigating has become difficult.” He looked out to the lake before going on. “It isn’t just losing water from Superior, though. Our equally important goal is to stop the flow into Lake Michigan. There are millions of people being affected on that other end. I’ve got the governors from not only Michigan and Wisconsin calling me daily, but from Illinois and Indiana too.”
“What is your biggest obstacle, Captain?” Jim said, re-asking my question.
“We can’t find the bottom of the rift, Sir.”
*
We accepted the coffee Argyle offered us, and stood fifty feet from the edge of the rift. The gushing water was mesmerizing. Fifty yards from the original shoreline the water funneled and turned choppy, swirling in mini whirlpools. The closer to the rift, the muddier the water became. It rushed and gyrated and sent plumes of misty spray several feet into the air, shimmering with rainbows as it formed an unseen waterfall beneath the waves.
“How far down have you measured?” I asked the captain.
“The instruments we have registered two hundred feet before they quit, and the current created is much too strong to send a diver down yet,” he replied. “We are expecting a deep water submersible any day now that should be able to determine what we’re up against. Meanwhile, we are continuing with what we can, hoping to slow the water down at least. The first two hundred feet or so on both sides have a bottom of seventy to a hundred and fifty-five feet. At least there we’ve got something to work with. It’s that center hundred feet that has us stymied.” He took a sip from his cup. “The good news is the water is cold, icy cold.”
“Why is that good news?” Jim asked.
“If the water was warming it would mean this crack was really deep, lava deep, and there would be no way to seal it.”
*
We left the construction site and drove the quarter mile to cross over to the other side. Part of the new construction was forming new dirt and gravel tracts on either side of the rift for the ease of monitoring the traffic. As far as the eye could see, the trees and brush had been cleared back for a hundred feet or so and a dirt and rock berm ran alongside the newly widened river.
As we neared the bridge, I saw another guarded gate and a road leading due west, away from the river.
“Corporal, where does that road lead?” I asked.
“It takes any civilians back toward Trenary, Ma’am, away from the restricted areas,” he answered. I had been wondering how that would be handled.
We crossed to the other side in silence, the turbulent water below us.