The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (9 page)

“
Now what the heck was that?
”
snapped Paula. It was not that either woman was frightened by this most recent event. Rather, Paula was irritated that damage was done. She jumped from her chair and went to inspect the shattered window behind her.

“
Those fighter jets from the air station, I
’
ll bet,
”
Flo replied.
“
I knew that one of these times those booms would break some windows. Mine always rattle and shake when those things are up there on training flights.
”
Flo sounded confident of the cause of the breakage.

Paula was inclined to agree, but the cost of replacing the windows was foremost in her mind.
“
I think the military ought to have to pay for this.
”

“
Well, I don
’
t know...
“
replied her bosom friend.

“
Oh, come on, Flo! If their planes cause a sonic boom that breaks my windows, it
’
s their fault. And they should have to replace what is damaged!
”

“
You
’
ve got insurance, haven
’
t you? Just collect on that.
”

Paula considered the suggestion briefly.
“
I
’
m not sure something like this is covered. Frankly, I don
’
t think it is, Flo. But even if it were, my rates would go sky-high if I tried collecting on every little thing that happens.
”

Paula stood, pondering the cracked glass as Flo got up and moved to her side. Reaching down, Paula removed a sliver of the broken window from the sill, just as a loud, extremely piercing siren began somewhere in the small town.

“
What in the world?
”
she demanded, dropping the fragment and clasping both hands over her ears. She looked at Flo in bewilderment. In her four years in San Mirado she
’
d never heard anything like it. The shrill noises continued without let-up.

Flo finally grabbed up the telephone.
“
I
’
m calling the police to see what
’
s going on.
”

“
Maybe it
’
s some kind of a drill,
”
ventured Paula.

“
For what? We
’
ve never had drills for anything before.
”
She dialed several times before giving up.
“
Damnit, it's dead.  Where's my cell phone?
”

Both moved rapidly to the front of the house. The street running past the house now had a handful of neighbors standing in it, confusion on their faces as they attempted to talk above the piercing sound. At last the noise ended and Paula and Flo stepped outside to join them.

“
Does anyone know what
’
s going on around here?
”
asked Flo.  She had gotten no signal on her cell phone.  The internet connection seemed to be down, too.

The best information seemed to have something to do with a dusty looking cloud that had speedily formed in the northwest.

Someone suggested,
“
There
’
s not much up that way—that electric power plant, maybe.
”

Speculations on the cause of the strange, glass-shattering noise and the dirty cloud passed freely among the women. Receiving no answers to their question, they finally began to disband and drift back indoors.

Paula and Flo, however, were still leaning against a parked car, engaged in talking, when a van turned onto their street.

The vehicle, equipped with a mobile communication system, was issuing instructions as to evacuation procedure. The message was more puzzling then informative; but then, the vehicle and its hastily delivered bulletin had been the small city
’
s initial effort at warning its citizens. The driver had been pushed into the cab with orders to drive up and down the streets of San Mirado while the public official at his side shouted out the news.

“
What
’
s he saying?
”
asked Paula.

They strained their ears to understand before the unit had driven out of hearing range.

“
Something about evacuate southward on the freeway.
”

“
Why? Why?
”
Paula asked as she stepped into the street to view the unit.

“
Shush—I
’
m trying to hear,
”
said Flo.

Watching the rear end of the truck turning the corner, she remarked,
“
Something about White Water exploding.
”

“
White Water? What
’
s that?
”
asked Paula.

“
The power plant up the coast.
”

“
Oh. Oh well, then the current
’
s just going to be off,
”
said Paula with a note of relief in her voice.

“
I guess so,
”
Flo said, frowning.

“
Why evacuate, though? That doesn
’
t make any sense to me,
”
Paula remarked.
“
Do you suppose it
’
s a prank—you know, kids are always doing dumb things. Maybe it
’
s just someone trying to scare us.
”

“
But the sirens, Paula—why were they being sounded?
”

Paula shrugged her shoulders.
“
I have no idea. I
’
ve never heard anything except the periodic test sirens before. Do you think it's a test? But I can tell you one thing—I
’
m sure not going to leave my belongings here and take off down the road. Frank would be mad as hell when he gets home tonight if he finds me and the kids gone.
”

“
Aren
’
t you going to go get them at school? I mean, just in case there
’
s something to this?
”

“
No, I don
’
t think so. Not until I know more about this, anyway.
”

“
Well, I am,
”
Flo said.
“
It may be a hoax, but if it
’
s not, I want to have my boy with me.
”
 

San Mirado public schools consisted of kindergarten through twelfth grades. The students attended campuses at three different locations within the community. High school classes began a little earlier in the day than the intermediate grades. Kindergarten began on the latest hour—at nine o
’
clock, to allow ample time for mothers to drop their tykes off after husband and older children had gone their way.

At Intermediate School the doors had been shut against the outside. Virtually every modern school plant built within the recent past had been structured for maximum utilization of the mild southern California weather. No long dark corridors extended the lengths of two-story brick prisons. Instead, the individual classrooms, identified by their varying colors of red, blue, green, or yellow doors opened directly onto the compound, and into open air.

Miss Althea Carr
’
s seventh grade class students were in their seats. The tardy bell had rung promptly at 8:30 a.m. Like obedient children, they had saluted the flag in a sing-song voice, then politely waited for Miss Carr to call the roll. Attendance was very good. But then it was still early in the semester.

Being a stern disciplinarian made the teacher one of the less popular ones on the campus. The children respected Miss Carr, and slightly feared her. Some openly admired her, but she definitely was not the campus favorite. She never dilly-dallied, but got right into the lessons and stayed with them until her daily objectives were reached. She was impossible to be led astray from the subject under discussion by slyly contrived questions or flattering remarks. For all her lack of popularity among her young charges, she nonetheless managed to propel most of her pupils far beyond their usual levels of achievement.

Her concern at this particular moment was with a young man in the last seat in the back. He seemed to spend more energy kicking the chair of the girl in front than he did saying the pledge. Her continuing dread was this rebellious child who refused to say the pledge. He
’
d put his hand over his heart but wouldn
’
t make any sign of mouthing the words. His was a bad example for the others to see and she knew she
’
d have to handle this subtly, lest others get the same idea.

The tremor rocked the room with a brief spasmodic quiver. San Mirado sat a respectable distance from the maze of fault zones, and the quake hardly moved the sandstone on which Intermediate rested. Actually the trembling had ceased before the principal had had the chance to ring the bell that signaled an earthquake.

“
Well, class, it seems that we won
’
t be having to duck and cover just now.
”
Miss Carr smiled pleasantly to the children as they sat down.
“
Kim, would you mind collecting the homework papers, please?
”

Moans and groans greeted this announcement. Althea smiled to herself while maintaining an outwardly stern expression. Other teachers sometimes forgot to gather the assignments, but not she. The ones who
’
d chosen to watch television the previous night instead of doing their work would be caught again.

Just as Kim handed the papers to her and she was glancing through them, a booming noise resounded through the acoustical tile. There were no windows in the classroom, the theory being that four solid walls cut down on the distractions to the pupils, and she chose to ignore the sound.
“
I can see by these papers that some of you have decided there are things more important than an education.
”
She was going to make it a bad scene. Each failure to perform was a personal affront to her as a teacher.

She had just begun to warm to the subject with,
“
Perhaps you need an extra half hour after school to finish your assignment,
”
when distant sirens started blaring. Shortly the buzzing of the school
’
s own bell was added to the racket.

Althea quickly sorted the sounds out in her mind. The classes were required by the state education code to undergo one full-scale fire drill each month, and one duck-and-cover drill each semester. This was the signal for the latter. But they had had their practice for the semester only last week.

“
All right, children! Quickly! Under the desks!
”

She knew that in the event of an extreme emergency, such as an earthquake, the students were to drop to the floor and crawl under their desks upon hearing the special bell. Instructions required that the same procedure be followed for other emergencies—duck down and get under the desks and stay under them until the clear bell was sounded. But this obviously was not because of the earthquake. That shaking had lasted briefly and ended several minutes ago.

The buzzing of the school bell continued after the sirens stopped. Her knees were beginning to ache and she wondered if the young students
’
legs fell asleep, too. In another room this might have been fun for them, but not here. She refused to allow any breach of regulations.

Eventually the buzzer also quit. There was silence in the room.

The whole episode was disconcerting to the teacher. A clear bell hadn
’
t been sounded yet. Someone up there in that office hadn
’
t learned to do his job properly. The clear bell always had to ring otherwise they
’
d be expected to remain here under the desks. Not knowing exactly what to do, Althea crawled to the intercom phone hanging beside her desk and dialed the office.  No answer.

But as the school's back up emergency power generation system kicked in the intercom came to life with words broadcasting that had a coldly sobering effect. She had not even been born in 1945, but she vividly recalled the documentaries on TV, and pictures she had  seen in a college classroom.

Coughing away the choking feeling, she finally got to her feet and faced the class. For a moment she didn
’
t know what to say to them, how to explain. Finally,
“
Children, there is a deadly poison in the air. The White Water Nuclear Power Plant....has exploded. All its terrible invisible wastes are up in the air we breathe.
”
Slowly she sank into her chair.
“
We will never forget this day.
”
Althea sat there, immobile, with a vacant expression, as if her mind were elsewhere.