Read The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) Online

Authors: Barbara C. Griffin Billig,Bett Pohnka

The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (38 page)

BOOK: The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival)
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In Cecil

s mind was the incongruity of the generally more able persons he had seen upon arrival and these dead testaments to the ravages of radiation.

How strange,

he said, as he observed them.

The spokesman agreed.

It was really hard to believe. They

d begin to feel sick—by Tuesday night and Wednesday was when we first started noticing them—and then they

d get very weak. Within a day they

d become so helpless that they couldn

t move. They

d complain of pain. Then, without any other warning, they

d die. Just die.

said the man as he played the light on them.


By Wednesday, you say?

asked Cecil.

In such a short time?

He was thinking that the radiation would have been exceedingly high to cause such early deaths.

The other nodded.

I was lucky, I guess. I knew a little about radiation. I was a lance corporal in World War II and my company ended up in Japan right after we dropped those two A-bombs. I

ll never forget the sight of some of those poor devils— it

s haunted me for all these years.

Cecil understood.

The devastation must have impressed you.


You

re not kidding,

said the spokesman as he steered Cecil out of the small room and into the concourse.

I was a tinhorn medic at the time and we got some of the Jap casualties to treat. You know, ever since then I

ve read nearly everything I could lay my hands on about radiation.


Are you a doctor?

asked Cecil.


No. I run an import business, in Dallas. That

s why I was on my way to Tokyo. You may have heard of me if you

ve been in Texas. My name is George Fenimoore Kingsley of Kingsley Enterprises.


Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kingsley. I

m Cecil Yeager. The pilot of the chopper is Arnie.

Arnie was finding the odor repulsive to his sensitive stomach. His brain held an image of the rows of bodies and the recollection caused goose bumps to race down his arms. By all calculations there must have been at least three dozen forms incarcerated in the darkened chamber. He had sought an area of fresh air since leaving the gruesome chamber, but had yet to find it.

I

d like to do a check on the upper level,

he announced as he started up the frozen escalator. The others fell in behind him.


You know, last Tuesday was a fair day for traveling,

said George.

By nine o

clock in the morning, the terminals had very few passengers in comparison to what they

d have been like on a Saturday—or Friday afternoon. I had an hour lay-over and was in the waiting lounge reading when the public address system brought the bad news.


That must have been a hell of a shock to you,

suggested Arnie, taking the steps two at a time.

George appraised the younger man from under his hooded lids before he replied.

Shock? Hell, it scared the daylights out of me. But you know, most of these jokers acted as if nothing had happened—that is, for awhile. When all incoming and outgoing flights were canceled, they began to get the message.


How did they act?

asked Cecil with interest.


Why, just like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship,

he said.

First, there was a lot of talk and yelling, then someone broke out running. The next thing I knew everybody was running and screaming. They trampled anybody who got knocked down....just stomped one old lady to death.

Cecil asked,

What were you doing, George, with no place to go?


Well, I was like some others. Caught here, out of pocket, we didn

t have any choice but to stay put. There wouldn

t have been any point in checking into a hotel, anyway,

he said.


Actually, that concourse is probably one of the safest areas people could have been to avoid a lot of the radiation,

commented Cecil.

Down there in the center of this huge building you

d be shielded by several rather thick walls and floors. Presumably, many did stay down in the center of the terminal. Otherwise, there

d have been more casualties than there are.

They had reached the upper level by now, a level almost completely walled in by thick, tinted-glass plates.


Yeah, I knew that,

George replied.

But for the life of me I couldn

t convince some of those folks to go down to the concourse. They

d sit in here, gazing out through those tinted glass windows, talking nonsense—like any minute they expected a big jet to pull up and take them aboard.

The men were standing a floor above the concourse and were staring out across acres of pavement. To some, a favorite pastime at any airport was watching the jets being steered along the white lines until they were even with the passenger ramp—or listening to the huge engines being revved, in preparation for flight. For them, the excitement would be hard to recapture after today.

George remarked,

Frankly, I

d bet that nearly every one of those people in that little room below had spent most of his time right here by these windows.


It

s difficult to persuade some people that something—like radiation—that they can

t see and can

t feel, is harmful to them,

murmured Cecil, gazing out over the field below.


Don

t I know that!

George replied.

They moved back down to the concourse, and threaded their way out toward the terminal entrance, anxious to get back outside.

Streams of morning sunlight were scattering over the airport, highlighting the broad Century Boulevard, and lending an air of normality to the entire complex of pavements and buildings. Climatically, it was going to be a pretty day.

George stepped in closer to Cecil, and leaned toward the box-like instrument Cecil carried. He put his hand out, touching it.

What does your counter say?

he asked.

Cecil flicked on a tiny switch and checked the numerals on the dial.

Here, on the Street, around one hundred rads.


A hundred. I, uh, never did get the hang of that word rad,

George said.

What does it mean in relation to hazard potential?

Cecil had acquired a healthy respect for the Texan. In all probability, the man had been responsible for saving many of the hundreds of lives now awaiting relief in that building.

Rad is the term used to describe a given amount of absorbed radiation.

Cecil

s cheek twitched after he completed the statement—it always twitched when he had given an explanation of something that had no relevancy, no coherency to the listener.

Rad is often used interchangeably with roentgen. Whereas rad refers to absorption in soft tissue, roentgen refers to a measure of radiation exposure in air,

he explained. 

This machine is old.  Now they use a newer term called millisieverts.  They all are just a measure of what radiation is out there.

George was still looking at the speaker, waiting for the moment when something would be said that he understood. When he realized that Cecil had finished, and that no other elaboration was intended, he shrugged his shoulders, a weak smile on his lips.

Well, I guess I

m too dense for your kind of talk, Cecil. I was just wondering about how dangerous it is out here right now.


Maybe an example would shed light on the subject,

Cecil hastened to add.

For instance, it is believed that a dose of radiation in the range of four hundred fifty rads would result in death for the majority of people. Above that, very, very few, if any, would survive doses as high as one thousand rads.

The statistics were sinking in, as George listened with his head slightly bowed.


However,

continued the scientist,

very few, if any, would die following exposures up to two hundred fifty rads.


How high do you suppose it got during the thermal inversion?

asked the Texan.


I wouldn

t even want to guess, George. Eventually, the radiation extreme will be calculated, but I don

t think we

d have any means of knowing precisely—it

ll just be an educated guess.


That people have died from the radiation is fairly conclusive proof that it got high, though. Up to four hundred fifty or above?

asked George.

Cecil didn

t wish to demoralize the man, but still he wouldn

t lie to him, either. He

d give his own estimate.

Yes, I

d say it got well above four hundred fifty. But I wouldn

t want to speculate on the upper level.

Noticing the other

s concern, he said,

You

re in good shape, George. Very good shape. I wouldn

t think you should worry. Down in the concourse you were reasonably well protected from the radiation, and generally speaking, the smaller the dose, the better it can be tolerated.

The older man lifted his gaze to Cecil.

I understand that there

s a ten-to-twenty year latency period for the development of cancerous tumors—from radiation exposures. That

s what we, who survive this, have to look forward to. Some future, huh?

he said bitterly.

Cecil couldn

t deny the truth of those remarks. He couldn

t find anything appropriate to say. The silence was embarrassing.


When will the rescue team arrive for us? George finally asked.

Glancing at his watch, Cecil replied,

It

s after eight o

clock. They were instructed to start rolling at the same time we got our orders to move. Of course, they

re traveling via the highways, and not too fast. But I figure they should reach the city in a couple hours, at the latest.

George nodded.


Arnie will call in for a medical detail to be flown to you folks, though,

promised Cecil.

As soon as he phones, a squad should be in the air within a few minutes. So it shouldn

t be too much longer, George.

He and Arnie returned to their helicopter, gave a short salute to the lone man on the sidewalk, and flew off in the direction of their second destination.
 

BOOK: The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival)
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