“What’s happening at the power plant?”
“The core exploded, setting the graphite on fire, so it’s best to avoid the area as much as possible. That’s why we’re setting up here.
Water on the fire is ineffective. Many of the early firefighters and workers from the plant were exposed to extreme radiation. I saw men vomiting blood. The serious cases were flown out, headed to the radiation hospital in Moscow. Yesterday helicopters dropped tons of sand on the core. Although somewhat diminished, the fire continues. Today they dropped boric acid and lead along with sand on it. With people living so close to the plant, it’s a terrible situation.
It reminds me of the Great War when the Nazis rounded up Jews and Gypsies. I don’t know what’s going to happen to all these people.”
“Moscow is ordering collectives to make room,” said Captain Pisarenko. “They’re also recruiting the komsomols to help. For now, the health ministry gave me boxes of iodine pills to be handed out as people board the buses. We’ll tell residents they’ll be gone a few days at most. One of my men suggested we have parents tell their children they are going on holiday, or to the circus. Anything to move them along. And only one suitcase per person.”
Colonel Zamyatin shook his head sadly. “I was preparing for my retirement on a farm near here when they called me. I sent my wife to Kiev as soon as I heard what had happened. Nothing of this scale lasts only a few days.”
“I agree,” said Pisarenko. “The people of the village of Kopachi know how serious this is. We got them out of their houses at gunpoint.
Some of them were puking as they boarded the buses.” Pisarenko paused, wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “When the buses turned around to head south, neighborhood dogs chased them.”
Both were silent a moment.
Captain Pisarenko shook Colonel Zamyatin’s hand. “I hope we meet again.”
One of the radios on a table squealed to life as the technician adjusted the knobs. A loud voice boomed out question after question.
“Who the hell is that?” asked Pisarenko.
“Who else?” said Zamyatin. “The KGB. It’s their office in Kiev interfering with the emergency frequencies, wanting to know every fucking detail while they sit on their asses!”
“I’ll go now, Colonel.”
“Good luck, Captain.”
Captain Pisarenko ran up the embankment to his truck, ordering the driver to go before he landed in the seat. The truck sped off after the rest of the convoy and caught up as the line of trucks and buses drove past signs welcoming visitors to Pripyat. Although the sun had set and it was rapidly growing dark, the messages could still be seen. Among the messages were, “The Ideas of Lenin Are Im-mortal” and “The Proletariat Will Triumph.”
Back at the roadside emergency headquarters, another convoy of trucks and buses roared past, heading north, their headlights flashing on the sides of the tents.
The traffic heading southwest increased. To stay on the main route, Vasily simply followed the lights of the car ahead. Likewise, the car behind stayed close, and Juli used this light to look into her dosimeter.
Vasily’s fifteen-year-old sister was named Lena. While Vasily’s mother slept at the other end of the back seat, Lena, who sat between her mother and Juli, asked questions as they drove through the night.
“What does it say now?” asked Lena.
“About a hundred,” said Juli.
“I learned in school radiation is more dangerous for younger people.”
“Don’t worry, Lena. They’ll have doctors in Kiev to check everyone. People get a hundred millirems in a year from natural radiation. My dosimeter goes all the way up to three hundred, and we turn it in every day.”
“Aren’t you worried for your baby? A baby shouldn’t get any.”
“Juli’s been taking precautions,” said Marina from the front seat.
“Like what?” asked Lena.
“Quit being so depressing,” said Vasily. “We’re out of there, and we can do nothing about what’s already happened.”
“I was simply asking, Vas. Anyway, you pay attention to driving.”
“I will,” said Vasily. “But when we get where we’re going, I might have to pop you.”
Lena laughed, changed the subject, and began talking about her friends at school. No one complained about Lena’s talking. There was nothing but somber music on the radio, and the talk of a teenaged girl made the darkness outside less frightening.
“Look,” said Lena. “There’s a bus parked at the side of the road.”
Someone waved a flashlight around as two women squatted behind sparse bushes.
“The men are farther ahead at another bush,” said Vasily. “See them standing in the dark? The bus driver picked this place for a toilet break because only plowed fields are ahead.”
“It’s depressing,” said Marina.
“People going to the toilet depresses you?” said Vasily.
“The entire situation,” said Marina. “All these people, their lives changed forever.” Marina spoke more quietly. “Especially the children. They’ll be frightened of rain and snow.”
“What will be left for us?” asked Lena.
Although Juli, too, felt discouraged, she tried to be positive.
“Nothing is irreversible. What mankind has done can be undone. I think of the radiation as simply another form of pollution. Science will provide answers… it must provide answers.”
Vasily braked hard as the cars ahead came to a stop. An army truck blocked the lane heading south, with soldiers outside waving the cars around it. Each car was stopped, a soldier leaning into the driver’s window.
“What is it?” asked Vasily, when his turn came.
“How many in the car, and where are you from?” demanded the soldier.
“There are five of us,” said Vasily. “We came from Pripyat.”
The soldier counted out slips of paper from a stack in his hand.
“Here are five temporary travel passes. Keep them with you at all times.”
“Do you have any information?” asked Vasily.
“Nothing. Drive to Kiev. You’ll be told where to go from there.”
The soldier waved for them to go and stepped back to the next car in line.
Vasily closed his window and drove on.
“Maybe it’s a good sign he didn’t have his mouth covered,” said Juli.
“We’ll probably be able to enjoy the May Day parade in Kiev,” said Marina.
“Enjoying the parade will be impossible,” said Lena. “How can all these people even fit into Kiev? What about the people already there? Look at the cars coming from the side road. Even more people. How will anyone be able to tell all of us where to go and what to do?”
No one in the car answered Lena’s questions. But everyone, even Vasily’s mother, who was now awake, stared across farm fields at a line of cars and buses from the northeast waiting to get on the main road south. Ahead, at the crossroads, flares were lit, and soldiers directed traffic.
When the line of traffic passed through the town of Korosten, soldiers on both sides with flashlights waved everyone through, making them turn southeast. Near midnight, at a sign saying Kiev was ten kilometers away, traffic slowed to a crawl.
“I told you,” said Vasily’s mother. “We should have gone to my older brother’s farm.”
“We’ve already discussed it!” shouted Vasily. “His farm is too close to Chernobyl. Juli needs to get to her aunt’s house in Visenka, the most direct way there is through Kiev, and we’ll all be better off in Kiev.”
“All right, Vasily. I put my trust in you, and in God. My younger brother is on a collective south of Kiev. If they have room, maybe we’ll end up there.”
After Korosten, the road widened. Very little traffic headed northwest, mostly army vehicles and empty buses. They were in the lane nearest the side of the road. Occasionally, when a car or bus with open windows came alongside, Vasily lowered his window to see if he could get some news. Others were also trying to get news, and it seemed no one knew much. The Chernobyl plant had exploded, radiation had been released, and the area was being evacuated. But no one knew when they would be allowed to go back to their homes.