Meltdown. It was the first thing on everyone’s mind. Just as dangerous was the radioactive steam that was about to be released outside to the lower Hudson Valley. Fixing the leak meant shutting down the reactor. Soon.
“Oh my God,” Larry uttered. “What about the backup pumps?”
“No good. Clogged with too much debris.”
Great, Larry thought. The expert critics warned us of this. Now all hell will break lose.
The men stared at the monitors. Someone said, “They want a team inside the dome, but we have to wait to shut down the reactor, and that takes a few hours. Until then, we can only standby.”
Larry swallowed dry and loosened his damp collar. He watched the jagged clumps tear off like shavings of molten lead peeling off a bombed-out building. He started to panic. What about the radiation?
“Weather report?” he asked one of the engineers.
“Winds are about ten miles an hour still out of the west. Enough to carry the plume over Westchester. If it shifts south it could hit the city, but that’s the worst case scenario.”
They’re doing what they’ve been taught: to think defensively, as if they are in control. Larry knew the psychological drill all too well, how the plant culture inexplicably adopts a false sense of security because of the sheer, physical enormity of the reactor. With a structure this immense, how could anything go wrong?
“Who’s been notified?” he asked.
“We’re calling county officials within the hour. Meanwhile we’ll start tracking any steam release if it happens.”
Why aren’t they calling now? People need to be warned about a possible meltdown and the spread of radiation.
“I’m going to get an update on the water levels and pump statistics,” Larry said. “I’ll be right back.” He hurdled his way through the deafening roar of the turbine room, neglecting to put on his ear plugs. His mind was racing.
He thought about Diana Chase. They had spoken only once, after he gave her his number at the rally. The woman had too many questions, and he got cold feet. He told her if anything suspicious happened, he’d let her know. He asked that she not try to call him, that he would call her first.
But shouldn’t she know about this? Jesus—was he really thinking that? He had her number on his cell phone but calling her meant drawing a permanent line in the sand, whistle-blower against the plant, against his buddies. Not for nothing, he could lose his job.
It was about two o’clock in the morning when Diana’s cell phone rang. She groped for the phone in the dark.
“Ms. Chase? It’s Larry Hines from the plant. Sorry for calling in the middle of the night, but it’s urgent.”
“Oh… Mr. Hines. That’s okay. What’s going on?”
The man spoke rapidly, and at first she wasn’t sure what he was saying.
“Wait, Mr. Hines, slow down. When did it happen? Have they alerted the county? Have they notified first responders? No—I haven’t heard anything. No—please don’t hang up—can we speak later… yes, okay. Mr. Hines?”
She scribbled a number down and stared at her phone. How amazing that a small device could transmit such a powerful doomsday message. She got up and looked out her window, half expecting to see some sort of sign in the dark. Should she call him?
When he answered he was half asleep. “Don’t tell me you want to try some phone sex now, my love,” he said sleepily into the phone.
“Lou—no. Be serious. I just got a very scary call from Larry Hines, you know the guy from the plant? There’s been a terrible accident, and they’re not telling anyone about it.”
His eyes worked themselves open. He sat up.
“The guy you think is a whistle-blower? What did he say?”
“Something about a pipe rupture in the containment dome. It could be a meltdown. Radioactive steam can get out—if it hasn’t already. This guy took a chance calling me, but he’s worried about getting the word out. He says the plant honchos are waiting until the last moment to alert officials.”
Lou sprung out of bed. “You’re kidding! The bastards are covering up a meltdown? Give me Hines’s number.”
“Lou, you can’t call him or even expose him. He’s risking his job, and we have to protect him. He took a chance calling me, and he’s really scared.”
“Look, I need his number just to confirm a few things and get the inside scoop. I won’t say where I got the information; he’ll be an anonymous source. Promise.”
“But he’ll know you got his number from me, and he’ll never trust me again. He’s a connection I really need. Besides, there’s more at risk here.”
“Such as?”
“The fact that we’re a… a couple. It’s a piece of juicy information that nobody should know, right?”
“We’ve kept it a secret for a good three weeks, Diana. Besides, I’m sick of playing that game,” he blurt out. “It’s nobody’s business what we do on our own time. Fuck ’em.”
“Oh really? Owen won’t mind that you’re shacking up with an anti-nuke activist who might influence your articles about ALLPower? And what about ALLPower? Don’t you think they could discredit you if they knew we were sleeping together?”
“They’ll never know. Promise.”
She was trying to believe him and knew they had been careful. He had taken her voice out of his stories, but her voice was too well known in the battle to close the plant.
“Look, Diana, I really need to talk to this guy—he’s key. He won’t give a damn that we know each other. Really.”
He waited, pen poised for writing Larry’s number.
“Okay,” she finally said. “It’s a pay phone. He’ll be there in one hour.”
Chapter 19
The bus rolled up to the front of Jen’s house at the usual time. She lightly patted Ricky on the back, an affection he readily shrugged off. He was too embarrassed to be touched by his mom in front of friends. He hopped up the steps and was swallowed up by the closing doors. A week ago he refused to be driven to school in the morning or be picked up after school, and Jen, who still felt somewhat needy, reluctantly agreed.
She worried about him. At home, he was spending too much time playing video games, and these games were more violent than the games he played with Kaylee. Ghoulish, super–action heroes wielded gigantic weapons, blasting away in horrifying scenarios replete with blood-curdling screams. Jen tried to limit his game time, but he tended to ignore her and played on. Sometimes she put her foot down and yanked him away from the monitor and demanded they both go for a hike. He begrudgingly dragged himself out of the room and mutely trailed after her. They never ventured down to the riverfront beach.
That day, after he got on the bus, she had a few hours to kill before heading over to school. She tackled the playroom, now the video room, still finding tiny reminders of Kaylee. Ricky had hidden a bunch of candy wrappers and empty soda bottles under the bookshelf, his own response to Jen’s fight against eating too much sugar.
She rinsed off a few dishes in the brightly lit kitchen, the largest room in the house, where the dining table doubled as her office and the clutter of papers was hard to control. As she checked the refrigerator for supper possibilities, her cell phone rang.
“Jen, its Diana. Listen to me carefully.”
“Diana? Is everything okay? Is Ricky okay?”
“Look, Jen, there’s been an accident at the plant, and they are going to start evacuating the school. You may have trouble getting here as the word gets out.”