The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (7 page)

Cecil watched him scurrying off, a lemming now. Then grimly thinking of the workers outside on the parking lot he grasped the bullhorn more firmly and headed for the door.

Outside the employees had convened on the asphalt lot and were showing signs of recovery from their earlier shock. Most had their phones out and were trying to get on the internet or call or text someone. Relief that they had escaped without injury was evident in their hushed conversations. Occasionally laughter would break through from someone who felt very lucky to be standing there at all. As far as they were concerned, though, the danger was over.  But there was muttering that they had no cell phone reception.

Cecil appeared on the steps with his bullhorn and began shouting.
“
Everyone back inside!! Get inside now! Come in through here!
”
He motioned frantically, beckoning to them.

The group exchanged glances of bewilderment but began to move in the direction of the building. When Cecil repeated his message and then darted inside himself, the stragglers sensed the urgency in the man and speedily closed the distance to the building.

     When they were assembled, crowded inside a small meeting room, Cecil climbed on a chair in front of them. Trying to keep his voice from shaking, he made the announcement.
“
The White Water power plant has just had an explosion!
”
He waited for the reaction of panic from the people. Instead there was a moment of silence.

"Is that why we don't have any cell phone service?" someone called out and others assented.

“
Then can we go home?
”
a voice asked finally.

“
When will we be called back to work?
”
someone else queried.

“
Wait. Wait! You don
’
t....
”
Everyone was talking suddenly; he couldn
’
t make himself heard above the noise.

“
Yeah. How long will it take them to get this wall repaired so we can work?
”

“
Didn
’
t you hear what I said?
”
Cecil shouted.
“
White Water has had a major explosion!
”
His emphasis was lost on the people.

“
So we
’
re without electricity. Big deal,
”
came the retort.

“
Yeah. They
’
ll fix it. We
’
ll have power soon.
”

Could this be? Cecil wondered. Could these human beings, crowded here in this room, possibly be ignorant of the catastrophe that had just befallen them? His background as a chemist made the significance of the accident deadly clear to him, but surely other people....

“
Look, folks! White Water was a nuclear power plant. It has exploded! Don
’
t you know what that means?
”
Cecil asked.

“
Sure. We
’
re going to be out of electricity until they get it repaired.
”

“
They? Who are you talking about?
”
he questioned, appalled by their incomprehension. Here stood the backbone of the country—and they hadn
’
t the vaguest idea of the horrifying meaning of this accident.
“
There is no
‘
They
’
who will go out and repair White Water. It has been destroyed, people!
”

Their faces reflected the lack of understanding, the incomprehension of lay persons who had never heard of beta or gamma rays, radioactive wastes, or fission reactions. The word reaction, itself, had no more meaning to them than the collection of angular buildings that sat on the horizon thirteen miles southward.

They were a younger generation for the most part. Atmospheric testing of nuclear bombs was internationally banned at the time they were listening to the latest music on their ipods,  surfing the web, and getting their first automobiles.

As adults, they
’
d periodically notice an article in a local newspaper dealing with the installation of a nuclear plant or some group that was against the installation. Occasionally a blurb would appear about a leak of radioactive wastes and comments by a scientist as to its dangers. But that would be followed by officials denying that danger existed and stating that the public was ignorant for being spooked. These articles, though, had little bearing on the average man and woman as they thumbed cursorily through the news on the way to sports, the comics, and the food section.

The day of the fallout shelters was gone. The shelters had only served as havens for down-and-out winos. Since the threat of the cold war had ended and atmospheric testing had ceased, the shelters had been eliminated.

Perspiration rolled down from his armpits as Cecil tried to communicate the full scope of this disaster.
“
Don
’
t you see,
”
he pleaded.
“
It
’
s not a simple matter of the lights being out, for God
’
s sake. It
’
s an atomic explosion that we
’
ve had!
”

There were some murmurings at this. An older man spoke up.
“
Like an atomic bomb? Is that it?
”

“
I
’
m afraid it is something like an atomic bomb. Do you remember what the radiation did to the Japanese when we dropped our A-bombs?
”
How could people who had been babies in 1945 or not even born yet  grasp this? Unless they
’
d been educated with the facts, they couldn
’
t understand. He absently wiped sweat from his forehead.
“
Well, we
’
ve got that same kind of radiation in the air right now....right overhead.
”

“
Lordy, I remember reading about where those Japanese got burned to death. And others got real sick from something in the air and died.
”
Someone had begun to catch on.

“
What are we going to do?
”
begged a voice from the crowd.

“
I don
’
t know....I just don
’
t know,
”
said Cecil, relieved that he had at last aroused some concern.
“
But there
’
s no reason for you to stay here. Maybe try to get your families together, because there
’
ll certainly be an evacuation.
”

“
Leave our homes?
”
asked a chorus of voices.

“
I guess so. With the radiation in the air the longer we
’
re around here the more of it we
’
re going to absorb,
”
he said.

A female voice, near hysteria, shrieked,
“
But where do we go? Which way?
”

“
Away from here—from the White Water site—I don
’
t know. Someone will have to direct us. Turn on whatever you can get to work when you get home. Hopefully you  or someone in your neighborhood  will have an emergency generator.  Somebody is going to have to tell us the safe routes....but stay away from White Water!
”
Cecil cautioned from the darkness.

A few people began to panic at this. They turned and ran to their automobiles. Outside, one lady dashed across the lot, her head covered with a packing box as though to protect herself from the penetrating rays. The disbelievers in the strange danger of the airborne particles strolled, their lack of haste indicating their disdain for the fright that had begun to flow.

“
Hell, I don
’
t feel anything in the air. I
’
ll bet you that guy Yeager is a crock,
”
said a young man.

“
Yeah,
”
agreed his friend.
“
He don
’
t know what he
’
s talking about. There
’
s nothing burning me.
”

“
Naw. Me neither,
”
agreed the other as they walked slowly toward their automobiles.

Screeching tires and the mad rushing of employees quickly became contagious to many of the skeptics—and there were many. Seeing their fellow workers dashing away set them to thinking, and before many more steps, they, too, began breaking into a run. Their private thoughts failed to assure them that this was some sort of monstrous lie, that nobody would have let anything that dangerous be put up on the edge of a megalopolis that contained nearly eleven million people.

Because metropolitan Los Angeles and its neighboring Orange County were crisscrossed with a massive, arterial system of freeways, a public transportation system of buses or trains was virtually nonexistent. So, as the Calmar workers piled into their automobiles, they wheeled either north or south to get to minor routes near their homes. All southbound traffic passed within a few hundred yards of the White Water site. With car windows securely rolled up, most felt that even if those strange foreign things were really in the air, then they certainly wouldn
’
t get inside a car with its windows closed.

While others, in the offices, frantically snatched their belongings from desk drawers and files and exited in a headlong rush, Cecil Yeager methodically pondered on those few articles which he thought might be useful in the days to come. Company records that he had been personally responsible for were not among his list of considerations. The computers had automatic back up systems.  Anything that wasn't backed up now, it was too late.  His employer had been too cheap to put in emergency power generators.  But no one was going to stick around to do any work, anyway.

He leaned against the edge of his desk, his head lowered in concentration, when the last employee raced through the clutter, en route to the parking lot.

Frank Waring, a junior accountant at Calmar, paused only long enough to ask,
“
Hey, Yeager! What are you doing standing there? I had you figured to be the first one out!
”

“
I....I
’
m just trying to decide on what to take,
”
Cecil explained.
“
I expected you to be long gone,
”
the man said, dashing out. This comment from his fellow worker was the kind of stinging, acid barb that people often threw at him. For some reason, unexplained to him, others seemed to picture him as the first one out, the one least likely to cope, the one who was always intimidated and easily frightened. That image was inconsistent with his picture of himself. He knew he was probably one of the best-read and most knowledgeable men in the chemical company. His lack of aggressive behavior was simply due to a deeply ingrained timidness in his relations with other people.

An unmarried, lonely man, and without kin, Cecil sought refuge from his loneliness by embedding himself in piles of books, journals, and papers. Naturally scholarly in his early life, he had read to learn, but as the years began quickly ebbing away, he continued to read, not only to learn, but also to fill the vacuum that was the solitude of his evenings, his weekends, even his vacations. A promotion to public relations would have plugged the hole in his life, would have made him become more outgoing. But it wasn
’
t to be, now.

In his assessment of the situation, he concluded that the dangers of the radiation hung like a giant lethal cloud above his head—nothing short of a rapid evacuation from the region could save him from its horrors. In the brief span of a few moments, he could not determine the course to follow, the direction to take. Whatever seemed the easiest, and the most expedient, that
’
s what he
’
d do. Meanwhile, he must prepare for the eventuality that he may never see Calmar Chemical again, nor perhaps, even this once beautiful countryside.

From the corners of his memory came the knowledge that metals absorb large amounts or radiation, and if worn close to the body, served as pools for the deadly rays that would steadily and continually irradiate his tissues....ultimately destroying cells of his body.

Carefully he removed his watch and laid it on the desk. Next, the class ring was tugged off his finger and placed beside the watch. Metal coins were removed from his pocket and dropped into the collection.