“Sorry to cut off any further debate, but we’d better jump before we get too weak,” Shawn said. The yellow mist was thickening around them. “The halothane will hit us fast.”
Van Dyckman peered over the drop-off, queasy. “But that’s… that’s like jumping off a three-story building.”
Adonia said, “I know it looks far, but it’s the height of a high-dive board. I’ve done it. You’ll survive if you jump, but the halothane will kill you if you stay here.”
“I can’t jump down there,” Pulaski insisted. “And I can’t swim across the pool—”
“Yet you will have to, Senator,” Garibaldi said.
“Listen up!” Shawn stood by Adonia, using a voice he must have learned when he commanded troops in the Air Force. “Since I’m already feeling the effects of the halothane, I know you can feel them, too.” He went to the edge and looked decidedly unsteady. “I won’t kid you, that jump isn’t going to be easy, but the longer you wait, the more the gas will affect you, and the more you decrease your chances of surviving.”
Pulaski stood frozen. “But if we stay here, what’s the worst that could happen? We’ll fall asleep and lie unconscious until we’re rescued.”
“You’ll never wake up,” Victoria said, climbing down from the rickety metal stairs and back over the lowered gate. “So you’re better off jumping.” She looked grim. “That fall is probably the least dangerous thing Stanley has left for us in this madhouse.”
Van Dyckman looked wobbly, unable to make a decision. Shawn approached the yellow chain, and she could tell he was preparing to jump, to lead by example. He waved them over. “Once we’re in the pool, we’ll boost someone onto the platform, and they can help everyone out. We can climb down that metal side framework to the floor.” He stretched his arms, flexed his torso from side to side. “I’ll jump first. Piece of cake. Easier than rock climbing.”
Adonia interrupted and put a hand on his chest. “No, I’m the better swimmer, Shawn. I’ll go first, show everybody how it’s done. You stay up here and make sure everybody takes the plunge. No stragglers.” She turned to van Dyckman. “Stanley — you jump right after me.”
“It’s so high! I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Yes, you can. Just watch what I do.” Adonia unfastened the yellow chain links and stepped up to the edge.
Behind her, Garibaldi sucked in loud, deep breaths, as if to gather his courage. When he broke out coughing, the older scientist turned to look at the yellow gas flowing out of the tunnel. “Sorry to sound impatient, but if we don’t go soon, we’re not going to make it.”
Pulaski backed away. “I’ll take my chances up here rather than jump into that radioactive cesspool.”
Shawn grabbed the Senator’s arm. “I will not let you stay here and die. We jump in and cross the pool.”
Pulaski struggled to yank away from Shawn’s grip. “I can’t swim across the pool! I can’t do this. You can’t make me jump. The… the radiation!”
Garibaldi joined Shawn and, with apparent glee, grabbed the Senator’s other arm. “Look: the rods are all clustered in the middle of the pool, away from the sides. Just aim for the open area near the edge and you’ll miss them.”
Pulaski dug his feet against the floor, but his heels slipped on the concrete. “The pool is full of them!”
“Hurry, Adonia,” Shawn called over the alarms. “Show them, and you can help once they get in the water. I’ll make sure the Senator goes.” He resolutely grasped Pulaski’s arm. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ve taken water survival courses at the Academy. We had to jump with a buddy off the thirty-foot diving board at the Cadet Fieldhouse, so I know how to jump with another person. It’ll be as easy as skydiving.”
Pulaski did not seem reassured.
Adonia flexed her arms, drew in a deep breath. The fuel rods shimmered in the water thirty feet below. The radioactive cylinders were arranged upright in a matrix in the center of the pool with only ten feet of open water along the sides. The pool was already filled to capacity, and van Dyckman intended to build more temporary pools, just to accommodate all the waste rods he was shipping into Hydra Mountain. Very soon, this slapdash solution would be as bad as the problem he was trying to fix.
But she focused on the problem at hand. Looking down, ready for the plunge, Adonia remembered the exhilarating times when she had used the high dive. “When you jump, be sure to leap forward, but not too much. You’ll only have to clear a few feet on the fall to miss the side of the pool. As soon as you’re in the air, keep your feet down, your head up. Close your eyes and cover your face with your hands before you hit. And aim for the open space away from the rods. There should be plenty of room.” Provided they could fall straight.
Victoria Doyle came close, swallowing hard. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Garibaldi coughed loudly. “That sweet smell’s getting stronger.”
Van Dyckman stepped to the edge, squirming. “What if we miss the water?”
“Then you’ll be a stain on the floor,” Victoria said. “Another mess for someone else to clean up.”
“What she means is, don’t miss,” Shawn said.
Adonia put her feet on the edge, telling herself that this really wasn’t a big deal. She had made many dives from such a height in her swimming competitions, but she had to do this right — not for herself, but to show the others.
No sense in waiting. She took a deep breath, crouched, and pushed out over the edge.
She leaped in an arc and extended her arms to keep her balance. She waved them in small circles to keep herself upright; holding her head straight and level, she watched for the water by just looking down with her eyes. As she plummeted toward the pool’s surface, she pointed her toes and threw her hands up to her face, covering her nose and eyes against the impact.
She tried not to hold her breath when she hit, but the plunge into the pool still jarred her. With the enormous slap of water pressure against her chest, she exhaled a burst of air. It wasn’t like diving into a competition pool at all, but rather like jumping into a hot spring. The water was extremely warm from the fuel rods.
She stroked for the surface. Underwater, she could hear a low hum of water-recirculating pumps, exchanging the heated water with cold, filling the pool and maintaining a constant flow pattern.
Adonia opened her eyes and saw bubbles rising around her. She spotted the rounded tops of the fuel rods like nightmarish metal tree trunks to her left, only a few feet from where she’d entered the water. Seeing how close she had come to striking the tops of the rods, she realized there wasn’t a lot of safety margin.
With a few short, strong scissor kicks, she burst to the surface. Instinctively, she started treading water. The temperature was alarmingly warm and unexpected, like a hot bath. Even though she convinced herself — intellectually — that the radiation would be tolerable, the heat prompted irrational fears. She was concerned about how the already-panicked Senator would react once he hit the water.
If he jumped at all.
She waved urgently up at the group on the high ledge above. They seemed very far away. Victoria Doyle looked surreal, framed against a backdrop of the crane’s metal lattice boom, with Stanley and Garibaldi next to her. “Come on!” she yelled. “Not much time!”
Blessedly, the alarms suddenly stopped, plunging the cavern into relative silence. But that didn’t stop the urgency as yellow-tinged halothane started to spill over the ledge; it flowed down the wall, keeping away from the pool — for now.
Crossing her hands over her chest, Victoria crouched and leaped out, as if she had something to prove in front of van Dyckman. Once airborne, she threw out her arms and tried to keep vertical.