The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (25 page)

Cecil
’
s fist shot through the air, connecting with a soft, thin nose. He felt the gristle crumple under his knuckles as they pushed their way into the flesh. Two small geysers erupted, sending red juices squirting down the scrawny chin of the scarecrow.

Cecil was astonished at his reaction. In his entire life, he had never aggressively attacked anyone.  He wasn
’
t a violent man, yet something had just snapped in him, sending him into a low rage.

Backing out of Cecil
’
s reach and using the tail of his shirt, the man started sopping up the blood.
“
You had no call to do that,
”
he accused. The man
’
s voice became louder and high-pitched as he talked.
“
A coward....that
’
s what you are. You bastard! You
’
ll be sorry for this!
”

Cecil watched as the man staggered farther and farther away from him, still yelling obscenities.

The teacher had returned, catching the last of the action.
“
What was that about?
”
he asked.

“
Nothing,
”
answered Cecil.
“
Say, who is that guy?
”
he asked as he rubbed his bruised knuckles soothingly.

“
I don
’
t know him, but I heard someone refer to him as Carter,
”
answered Jim.
“
He
’
s part of the unit.
”

“
Carter,
”
murmured Cecil.
“
Is that his first or last name?
”

The teacher shrugged.
“
Who knows. He
’
s just a fellow who is waiting to go along with the rescue squad.
”

At last the man, holding his shirt at his bloody nose, crept out of Cecil
’
s sight behind a troop truck, leaving the chemist to stare at the olive drab vehicle. That man, Carter, bothered him. Not only was he an unhealthy looking specimen, but there was something furtive, something evil about him. Others might regard Carter as a sniveling sneak of a man, but Cecil viewed him as that and more. He was dangerous. Turned loose in Los Angeles, the man could cause inestimable damage.

“
This is it,
”
said Jim, interrupting Cecil
’
s thoughts.
“
The gear is here and ready to go.
”

Reluctant to leave his consideration of Carter, Cecil finally turned his interest to another problem that had concerned him.
“
Jim, has some provision been made for food and water for us?
”
he asked.

“
Gosh!
”
said Jim, snapping his fingers.
“
It
’
s a good thing you mentioned that. It slipped my mind.
”

Cecil wasn
’
t surprised. In fact he had expected this.
“
Then I think we ought to plan to carry our food and some extra water. Let
’
s try to get some water barrels stored on a couple of those trucks. We
’
d better be as prepared as we can.
”

He wasn
’
t exactly sure why, but Cecil felt himself being caught up in the efforts of the rescue movement. His thoughts drifted to the incidents of the past days—of what Calmar Chemical had done to him and how he had tried to even the score with their money, looking out for himself instead of the company for a change. He thought of the Mexican who had been intent on taking all he could get, offering Cecil only $500 for a new car—but Cecil had known the car was radioactive. And Carter, that vulture, perhaps it was the encounter with him that had changed his feelings. Earlier he
’
d thought of himself as being forced to return to Los Angeles against his wishes. But that was no longer true.. not now. He suddenly wanted to help, to be of  assistance.

Ben, can you eat something? A tiny bit of food?
”
Sara pleaded. What else could she do for him beside nourish him? The best she could do for her husband was try to keep him living—at least until she could get medical aid.

He weakly refused the food, just as he had done earlier.

She resignedly left his bedside. She had to get the corpse out of the foyer. Strange..... how methodically her mind was working today. Sara Harrington had been only a typical, passive housewife, content to prepare the meals, do cleaning, and make a good appearance in public. It was important that Ben be proud of her. Decision-making? That was Ben
’
s responsibility. Now suddenly, he could no longer make the decisions. He was totally helpless. If they were not to perish it would have to be through Sara
’
s design.
 

The body lay stiffly in the entrance. The question was where to grab it. Not the arms. She couldn
’
t bear to touch it. Settling on the shoes, she grasped one in each hand and began to pull.

It was heavy. She
’
d never known whether Ben had recognized this man or not. Not that it mattered now. The gardener was dead. Would the authorities have construed the gardener
’
s death to have been murder? Or merely self-defense? But then, Sara wasn
’
t really bothered by the legal or moral issues. These were exceptional circumstances.

Dragging the weighty, lifeless form along, she finally had it out of the house and onto the rear lawn. What to do with it? California houses had garages but not basements. Finding the right spot to store a dead person was a problem. Police would undoubtedly want to claim the body—eventually. Meanwhile, though, it had to be put out of sight.

Sara found plastic drop cloths which had been used by the painters and folded them over the form. Then bending down, she began rolling it first one way and then the other, until she had it neatly encased in the sheeting. Satisfied at last, she left the gardener
’
s body securely wrapped and reposing in a far corner of the lawn.

When next she entered Ben
’
s room, she was carrying broth and juice. Against his protests, she gently fed him the nourishment.

Then he dropped into a light sleep.
 

Sara found the tiny black radio that ran on batteries and carried it into the den before switching it on. She heard the last of the running broadcast on radiation
“
...can not be seen nor felt. These invisible particles travel at varying rates of speed and that speed determines how far the rays can penetrate into your body. But the dangers are not solely in the rays going through the skin to the organs; eventual damage will show up on the skin itself. These particles will stick to plant life. Do not, repeat, do not eat vegetables that are now growing outside! They are contaminated. Do not, repeat, do not drink fluids that have been exposed to the atmosphere! Above all, people, you risk contamination by your presence in the area. Going outside your house results in irradiation of your body. If you remain in the area, stay as far removed from the outside as possible. If you plan to evacuate, you must do so as quickly as possible. Major routes believed still open to outgoing traffic are....
”
Sara shut it off.

Her annoyance began to surface as she thought of the broadcast. God, the fools didn
’
t tell you that hiding in the bedroom wasn
’
t going to shield you from the intense rays. Those rays were unavoidable in any chamber short of the old, thick-walled concrete fallout shelters which no longer existed. There was no safe place while the radioactive materials releasing radiation were hanging overhead. They were all exposed by now—some to lesser degrees than others—but every single person within the reach of radioactive dust had begun receiving dosages at 8:46 a.m. on the morning of the accident. It would continue until the poison had blown away or decayed.

She couldn
’
t know how her area was affected. Being seventy miles north, perhaps it would escape the heavy dust. Nevertheless, Sara was incensed that the citizens weren
’
t being told the truth. Maybe that was politics. Or ignorance. Whichever the case, the public never seemed to be given the facts. Had they really known, would the people have accepted theory and gambled on the impossible odds that there
’
d never be a major accident in a nuclear reactor? Would they have allowed the plant to be constructed regardless? But of course the public
’
s view—informed or not—was rarely heard. Or, if it was, it too often was ignored. Whether from lack of knowledge or overpowered by utility forces, the people had giant nuclear reactors sitting on their doorsteps now. Each one was a potential cataclysm, awaiting a moment of human error or machinery malfunction. Which had White Water been, she wondered.

“
Sara?
”
His call was weak, almost a whisper.

“
Yes, Ben,
”
answered Sara, rushing to him.
“
What is it, darling?
”

“
I wanted to see you—wanted you here.
”

His forehead felt abnormally warm to her fingertips again.

“
Are you feeling all right?
”
Ben asked feebly.

“
Yes.
”
She placed the wet towel on his brow.
“
Ben,
”
she asked hesitantly,
“
what happened at the plant?
”

For several minutes he didn
’
t respond. She feared that she had asked the wrong question.

At last he said,
“
I don
’
t know, Sara.
”
He recalled that Mike had believed he had accidentally caused the controls to be retracted during the shuffle of the earthquake a few minutes before the explosion, but he saw no need to admit this to Sara. It was only a week or so ago that he
’
d remarked to his wife that possible human errors had been eliminated by recent technological improvements on reactors. Knowing the fears she had for his personal safety around the reactor, he
’
d continually reassured her, always attempting to allay those fears.

“
Ben, you
’
ve always insisted that an explosion simply could not occur in a reactor. You
’
ve said every authority in the field holds that belief,
”
she reminded him.
“
You must have some notion about what went wrong.
”

He lay there in the bed, listening as she probed for an explanation. Weakened by the pain and fever, he could not satisfy her curiosity—for he had no answers. In his exhaustion, he could only close his eyes and reply from his inner darkness,
“
I just don
’
t know, Sara. It all happened so fast that I hadn
’
t time to think about it.
”

She bathed the swollen tender skin, the tissues now festering with a seeping yellow fluid as it drained away from his battered ear.
“
I don
’
t understand it,
”
she persisted.
“
After the assurances that the plant was perfectly safe, how could this have happened? Was that a ploy to keep opponents of nuclear energy plants silent? After all, nobody in his right mind would want a reactor near him if there was the remotest chance it would someday destroy itself.
”

“
Sara,
”
he answered softly,
“
I honestly don
’
t think anybody ever expected one to explode—not in a million years.
”

She sighed at the futility,
“
But wouldn
’
t someone surely have questioned that likelihood? My God, with all the brilliant scientists in this world, you
’
d think someone would have foreseen this.
”

The conversation was taking its toll on the man, but her desire to know and to understand was gnawing at her. Ben, even in his infirmity, was asking himself the same questions, searching for answers. He had often wondered what those pilots of the large commercial birds thought when they realized they were going to crash. They had believed in their craft—they continually staked their lives on them. What went through their minds when, in a moment of malfunction, they saw themselves heading toward certain death? Ben thought he knew.