The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (39 page)

Once clear of the airport, Arnie put in the call to his command center. He rapidly relayed the news of the conditions they had found at the site. Although Cecil could not hear the conversation at the other end, he knew by the pilot
’
s comments that instructions for proceeding directly to the second reading site had been somewhat altered. When the call was terminated, he asked,
“
What
’
s changed, Arnie?
”

The pilot answered,
“
Seems someone is worried about the condition of the County Art Museum. We are to go straight there and report on what we find.
”
His tone indicated bewilderment.

Cecil didn
’
t question him further, but sat back in the bucket seat and routed their journey on Arnie
’
s map of the city. He hastily pinpointed the area, then checked the scene below.

“
Isn
’
t it on Wilshire, Cecil?
”
asked the pilot as he searched for familiar structures.

“
Right,
”
said Cecil.
“
I think we
’
re over the boulevard now. Veer eastward and we should spot it pretty easily. It
’
s by Hancock Park.
”

Wilshire Boulevard cut its swath through the business district of gleaming modern buildings, its peculiar absence of people and traffic marking this as an unusual day. They followed the street for no more than a couple minutes when Cecil spotted the park below.
“
That
’
s it, Arnie,
”
he said, pointing.
“
That
’
s Hancock Park, and the La Brea Tar Pits next to the museum.
”

The park was its lovely serene self of natural foliage and lush beds of flowers bordering the expanse of brilliant green, if somewhat overgrown, lawn.

Arnie seemed impressed, not by the beauty of the park so much as the huge pits of black bubbling tar.
“
We sure don
’
t want to set this bird in the middle of one of those pits, Cecil,
”
he said as they slowly circled the area.
“
Which one is the museum?
”
he asked.

“
The white building there,
”
Cecil replied.

Without hesitation, Arnie lowered the craft into the center of Wilshire Boulevard and cut the rotors. Before moving from his seat, he looked toward the many steps leading up to the front of the museum.

Cecil detected the hesitation, almost a reluctance, in the pilot to go inside, but he didn
’
t say anything.

Finally, Arnie heaved a sigh and unbuckled his seat belt.
“
Well, I guess I
’
d better go on in,
”
he said.

“
Do you want me to go in with you?
”
asked Cecil.

Arnie seemed relieved.
“
Yeah. I wish you would. I....the commander said that there might be some kind of trouble in there, Cecil.
”

Cecil watched Arnie checking around the cab of the chopper— the sort of thing that might be done if he were searching for a weapon. Indeed, Arnie
’
s fist closed around the handle of a wrench, and then he started exiting the plane.

Unwilling to ask his motive for the wrench, Cecil got out and walked side by side with Arnie up the flights of stairs. They paused at the entrance to the museum. Its glass doors had been smashed to slivers. Cecil looked expectantly at Arnie. The young man had paled, and his fist clenched the wrench until his knuckles were white under the skin. Together, they walked on through the foyer, their feet making crunching noises as they carefully eased over the shards of glass.

They hesitated at the inner door, and listened. There were no sounds from within. Using the head of the wrench, Arnie pushed the door in, and they stepped cautiously inside. The main chamber was an ordinary, empty viewing room. Its gray walls, the repositories of masterpieces of paintings, had been gutted.

Cecil moved over to the nearest framework of a painting. It was a large square case that had been built nearly flush with the wall. Covering it had been a three quarter inch thick plate of plexiglass, a special precaution taken to prohibit defacing of the work. The painting was now gone—as were all the others that had been on display. He didn
’
t need to ask Arnie the significance of this bit of thievery. He knew.

Arnie mumbled under his breath,
“
Every God-damned one is gone.
”
When at last he turned to Cecil, he said,
“
This is really going to raise a stink. Jesus, is it ever! Cecil, this was a Russian exhibition, and now every one of their damned paintings has been stolen!
’’

“
Yes, I know,
”
answered Cecil.
“
I was in here looking at these two weeks ago. The exhibit was a collection of impressionistic art—Picasso, Gauguin, Van Gogh—they
’
re priceless pieces.
”

“
And they
’
re gone,
”
Arnie reiterated.
“
I got to call in about this, Cecil,
”
and he hurried out the door.

Cecil took one fast reading, duly recorded the radiation level, and trailed Arnie back to the chopper.

When his report to the command center was completed, Arnie asked,
“
What do you make of those paintings being gone, Cecil?
”

It was a nebulous question from the youthful pilot. In his precise manner, Cecil formed an answer.
“
If you
’
re thinking about the diplomatic angle, I
’
d say the Russians are going to be very upset by this. They haven
’
t been all that eager to make cultural exchanges with the United States, anyway. And now, with such a valuable collection gone....well, I
’
d imagine they
’
ll come out with some nasty accusations about how those paintings disappeared.
”

“
You
’
re thinking this will add some heat to the cold war?
”
suggested Arnie.

“
Undoubtedly,
”
Cecil replied.
“
There have been masterpieces on loan to the museum before, but these were the first ones that had to hang behind those extra thick plates of glass. The Russians made a big to-do about special packing for shipment and special protection while the paintings were on display. It almost seemed that they expected the art-work to be sabotaged somewhere along the way.
”

Arnie said,
“
But there must have been guards stationed with the exhibit, then. Someone beside the regular museum staff.
”

“
No, I don
’
t believe there were. At least, not when I was in here to see them,
”
answered Cecil.
“
Not that it really matters whether guards had been here or not. Once White Water went, everybody would have been expected to make himself his primary concern.
”

“
Well, it looks like somebody was enterprising enough to get in there and take every blasted painting. Man, he must have been crazy to come into the radiation for them.
”

Cecil fastened his seat belt before replying.
“
I don
’
t see it as having been such a gamble, Arnie. Not when you weigh the hazards against the value of the paintings. Not for someone who had a plan to remove them quickly, then get away.
”

Arnie looked at his partner quizzically. His face showed respect for the shrewd brain of the chemist.
“
You sound like you could have done it yourself, Cecil,
”
he said lightly.

Cecil checked the belt and settled back in the seat.
“
No, not me, Arnie,
”
he answered.
“
But I do have an idea about the system. I
’
ve always thought that if you understood the system, you could beat it.
”
His gaze returned to the front of the museum, and came to rest on the scum covered reflecting pool.
“
That
’
s what it really takes to stay ahead,
”
he added.

For Arnie, the subject was getting a little deep.
“
We
’
ve got three more reading sites to cover, Cecil. I guess we
’
d better get on with it,
”
he said, not completely understanding Cecil.

“
Arnie, when we
’
re finished, I
’
d like to be dropped off at the spot where my friends are to be.
”
Cecil used the term
‘
friends
’
loosely. What he had in mind was re-joining the volunteer crew from the little mountain town.

“
Sure,
”
Arnie replied.
“
No problem. Our work will be over after the third stop.
”
 

In the recesses of every mind there lurks an indomitable fear of the unknown. It may lie dormant in courageous souls, only to rear its ugly head over the foot of the death bed. In others, it surfaces unexpectedly on a darkened street in the late of night, and in some, in the middle of a sunny morning. To those men traversing the roadways on a clear, warm California day, fear had been well hidden, placed far and deep in the crevices of gray matter. As in others before them, they had no knowledge of the sort of things to expect within the irradiated area. But as the trucks and jeeps hauled them nearer, more than a few hearts began to entertain doubts and fears.

As a militia, the members had been taught to think in terms of wartime experiences. But for many, this was their first real military effort. Consequently, as instructions were relayed and segments of the troop procession would peel away from the security of the long procession, lonely anxieties invaded the troopers. This wasn
’
t an action of war. There were no alien men bombarding them with missiles from behind thick embankments. Each man carried a weapon and his job had been clearly spelled out. Working in a buddy system of twos, they were to locate and report on persons within each area via their field phones. Communication relays would instantly steer victims to medical units scattered nearby. In the event victims were incapable of reaching medical facilities, or facilities were too far removed, then the guardsmen would assume the task of requesting mobile units to pick up the disabled. 

The operation required door-to-door searching. Any looting or assault would immediately result in the military apprehension of the violator. For this, guns had been issued. Therefore, a policing of the area became a prime objective in conjunction with assisting the victims.

If, during a lifetime, a person has perceived a city as a place with buildings and people, traffic and window shoppers, and then sees only the inanimate, he is taken aback. The scene doesn
’
t fall into the realm of experience. Judgment will not allow the folly of believing that nothing is wrong, for here is a whole city, and nothing is as it should be. Fear begins seeping into the consciousness, and rapidly and successfully convinces the viewer that whatever had put an entire city to sleep in the middle of a sunny day must be ghastly indeed. Thus, with this growing awareness, it was with much trepidation that rescue of Los Angeles and its satellites was begun.

“
Wouldn
’
t you have thought that they
’
d be so anxious to see us that they
’
d be standing in the streets?
”
asked one of the troopers of his buddy as he scanned the neighborhood.

“
I doubt that they even know we
’
re here. We didn
’
t exactly herald our arrival, you know,
”
answered his comrade.

“
Hmmm, it would have been a good idea if we had been announced—with some bull horns, some loud-speakers—then they
’
d come out,
”
answered the young man, looking around uneasily.