Currents and Conspiracies

In the untamed spring wilderness of Northwestern Ontario, Danny and Melissa's routine river survey takes a perilous turn, hinting at both burgeoning feelings and a dangerous, unseen threat beneath the swirling currents.

Danny swore under his breath, the swear more a habit than a genuine complaint. His work glove, already stiff with river grit, snagged on a loose buckle as he wrestled the sensor array from the muddy bank. The cold seeped through the thin waterproof layer of his trousers, a familiar ache. Beside him, Melissa was already calibrating her handheld unit, fingers quick and precise, ignoring the damp chill that seemed to cling to everything.

“Turbidity’s off again,” she murmured, not looking up. Her breath plumed in the cool air, vanishing almost instantly. “Higher than yesterday, even with the melt slowing down a bit.”

Danny grunted, securing the array into its housing. “Probably just a fresh runoff from that little rain we had. Watershed’s still flushing out winter’s sins.” He pushed off a half-sunken log, the dark water sucking at his boots. “Anything else singing a different tune?”

Melissa finally looked up, her gaze scanning the churned river. She tucked a stray strand of dark, fine hair behind her ear, a nervous habit. “Copper readings are up. Not massively, but consistently climbing. And… there’s this weird sheen, just barely visible, like oil, but it’s not oil. More… iridescent.” She gestured vaguely upstream where the river bent sharply around a bluff thick with budding birches. “See it? Just past those rapids.”

Danny squinted, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand, though there was no sun to block. The grey light softened the edges of everything, making the landscape feel vast and indifferent. He didn’t see it at first, then caught a flicker – a subtle, almost ghostly shimmer on the surface, moving with the current. It wasn't the natural glint of light on disturbed water. It was… different. He didn't know if this was supposed to feel… anything. Warm? Comforting? He just… didn’t feel alone, not for a second.

“Huh. Never seen that before,” he said, the words feeling thin in the wide open space. He took a sample with a sterile syringe, the liquid looking innocuous in the clear plastic. “Let’s get the drone up. See what’s going on further north. My gut’s telling me this isn’t just typical spring runoff.”

---

The drone whirred into the sky, a buzzing insect against the endless grey. Melissa guided it with practiced ease, her eyes glued to the tablet screen, thumb making small, precise movements on the controls. Danny watched over her shoulder, the chill biting at the exposed skin of his neck. They followed the river’s winding path, past stands of spruce and jack pine, over rocky outcrops still dusted with snow in their deepest crevices.

“There,” Melissa said suddenly, her voice tightening. “Zoom in. Hard left, about two clicks past that waterfall.”

Danny leaned closer, his breath fogging the screen slightly. The image zoomed, resolution sharpening. There, on a relatively flat plateau beside a feeder creek, was a clearing. Not a natural one. This was too neat, too systematic. Patches of earth were disturbed, showing dark, raw soil. And then they saw it: a series of freshly cut stumps, their pale wood stark against the darker forest floor. These weren't small, either. Old growth. And nearby, a barely visible track leading deeper into the woods, covered by hastily piled brush.

“Illegal logging,” Danny breathed, the implications sinking in. The permit system for this area was notoriously strict. Nobody cleared land like that without a mountain of paperwork. “But why here? And so far off the main roads?”

Melissa’s brow furrowed. “The cuts look fresh. A few days, maybe a week. And look at the pattern. It’s not just selective logging. It’s… strategic. Like they’re trying to open up a specific area, not just harvest timber.” She paused, chewing her lower lip. “And what about the copper readings? And that weird sheen? Is someone mining?”

The thought hung heavy in the air, cold and unwelcome. Unregulated mining operations in these remote areas were ecological nightmares, toxic and brutal. He should be scared. He was scared. But it was also kind of… exciting? Stupidly exciting. God, why did he even climb here?

“We need to get closer,” Danny decided, a jolt of something akin to purpose shooting through him. He glanced at their canoe, pulled securely onto the bank, its bright red hull a stark contrast to the muted landscape. “If it’s illegal, they’re not going to welcome visitors.”

Melissa nodded, her jaw set. “Agreed. But the drone won’t get us much more without risking detection. And these rapids… we’d have to portage for miles just to get past this section.” She pointed to the churning white water a hundred metres upstream. “It’s faster to go by water, but it’s going to be rough. We should go back, call it in, let the rangers handle it.”

“And let them cover their tracks?” Danny shook his head. “No. Not yet. We need more than a few stumps and a vague sheen. We need proof. If we can get close enough to see an operation, identify equipment, maybe even get some samples… that’s irrefutable.”

Melissa looked at him, a strange glint in her eyes. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You actually want to paddle into this?”

“You don’t?” he challenged, a small, reckless smile touching his lips. He didn’t know if this was supposed to feel… anything. Warm? Comforting? He just… didn’t feel alone, not for a second.

She hesitated, then a slow grin spread across her face. “Alright, hero. But if we drown, I’m haunting your canoe.”

### Upstream Push

The river upstream was a beast of a different stripe. The earlier section had been navigable, if swift. Here, the meltwater funnelled through a narrower gorge, accelerating into a series of rapids that slammed against exposed bedrock. Danny dug his paddle deep, muscles straining, the cold water spraying over the bow, soaking his jacket. Melissa, in the stern, called out directions, her voice cutting through the roar of the water, her paddle strokes powerful and synchronised with his.

“Hard left! Rock’s coming up! Right, right, PULL!”

The canoe bucked, spinning slightly as they narrowly avoided a jagged, moss-covered boulder. Danny scraped his hand on the gunwale, a sharp sting. He ignored it. His focus was entirely on the water, reading the currents, anticipating the next surge. That streak… reminds me of last summer. My brother yelling at me for breaking his telescope. And now… is that Perseus? Or Cygnus? Whatever. Bright. I like bright.

They pulled into a small, relatively calm eddy, gasping for breath, their faces flushed with effort and cold. The canoe bobbed restlessly. Melissa wiped water from her eyes with the back of her hand. “That was… exhilarating.”

“And stupid,” Danny added, but a wide grin split his face. The adrenaline hummed in his veins, making everything feel sharper, more vibrant. They paused for a moment, letting their heart rates settle, the only sounds the relentless rush of the river and the distant call of a loon.

“Okay,” Melissa said, pointing. “Around that bend, we should be able to see the area the drone picked up. If there’s anything happening down by the water level, we’ll spot it before they spot us.”

They pushed off, re-entering the main current. The river seemed to sense their renewed determination, throwing everything it had at them. The water grew choppier, the eddies stronger, pulling at their paddles with unseen force. The subtle, iridescent sheen was more pronounced here, swirling in patterns that seemed almost unnatural. He didn’t know if this was supposed to feel… anything. Warm? Comforting? He just… didn’t feel alone, not for a second.

“What’s that?” Melissa suddenly yelled over the roar, pointing a shivering finger upstream. “The river… it’s rising!”

Danny looked, and his blood ran cold. The water level was indeed surging, not slowly, but rapidly, like someone had opened a massive sluice gate upstream. The rapids intensified almost instantly, transforming from challenging to outright dangerous. Logs, debris, and chunks of melting ice that had been merely floating before were now hurtling past them, picking up terrifying speed.

“Paddle! Get to the bank!” he shouted, desperation lacing his voice. He dug in, pulling with all his might, the canoe feeling sluggish, unresponsive against the surging current. Melissa matched his frantic pace, her face grim. They were aiming for a small, rocky inlet that offered the only semblance of shelter for hundreds of metres.

### Beneath the Bluff

They fought against the current, every muscle burning, the roar of the river deafening. The canoe scraped violently against a submerged rock, lurching sideways. Danny thought they were going over. He didn’t know if this was supposed to feel… anything. Warm? Comforting? He just… didn’t feel alone, not for a second.

“Hold on!” Melissa cried, digging her paddle in deep, correcting their trajectory with a desperate surge of strength. They barely cleared the rock, the tip of the paddle snapping against it with a sickening crack. They stumbled onto the muddy bank of the inlet, dragging the canoe halfway out of the water, collapsing beside it, soaked and shivering, breath heaving.

The river raged past, a furious, brown torrent. They watched, stunned, as a massive old-growth spruce, torn from its roots, was swept downstream, disappearing around the bend in seconds. This was no natural phenomenon. Someone had caused this surge. Someone had opened something, dammed something, or done something else to unleash this torrent. That green trail? Something with… oxygen, I think. Makes the sky all weirdly bright.

Just as they were catching their breath, a sharp crack echoed from above, followed by a rumble. They looked up. The bluff overlooking their tiny inlet, loosened by the sudden surge of water and the recent thawing, was shedding. Small stones tumbled first, then larger rocks, dislodging ancient soil and brittle roots. A cascade of shale and earth began to pour down, directly towards them. His thoughts were contradictory, scattered, and self-interrupting. He should be scared. He was scared. But it was also kind of… exciting? Stupidly exciting. God, why did he even climb here?

“MOVE!” Danny screamed, scrambling to his feet, grabbing Melissa’s arm. They abandoned the canoe, sprinting deeper into the flimsy shelter of the alders, dodging falling rocks, the air thick with dust and the smell of raw earth. A boulder, the size of a small car, crashed into the spot where their canoe had been just moments before, splintering the red hull into kindling. They dove behind a thick, ancient cedar, pressing themselves against its rough bark as the rockslide roared past, a terrifying natural, or rather, unnatural, act of violence.

When the dust settled, slowly, hesitantly, they peeked out. The inlet was gone, buried under a fresh mound of debris. Their canoe, splintered and smashed, was now indistinguishable from the rest of the wreckage. They were stranded, miles from the nearest road, with night beginning to press in, and a very clear, very dangerous message delivered with brutal force. A glint of metallic light caught Danny’s eye on the newly exposed rock face of the bluff. He didn’t know if this was supposed to feel… anything. Warm? Comforting? He just… didn’t feel alone, not for a second. There, embedded in the dark schist, was a vein of something shimmering, something unnaturally bright, almost artificial.

Then, a faint, metallic clang reached them, carried on the wind, from deeper within the now impassable woods upstream. It was followed by the low, guttural thrum of heavy machinery, barely audible over the receding roar of the river, but undeniably there. They weren't alone in this wilderness. And whoever they were, they knew they were here now.