Kill Zone

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He knew about Adonia’s relationship with Colonel Whalen from years earlier. Government employees fed on gossip. No matter how much sensitive data might be kept secret, personal news was fair game. Stanley’s own affair with Victoria had generated a lot of whispering, but Adonia’s romance with Colonel Whalen hadn’t caused much of a stir. No one gave a damn about two people much lower on the ladder. Adonia and that oversized Boy Scout were made for each other.

  The loss of Senator Pulaski was a disaster to the industry, though. As an unwitting advocate, he was a cooperative and reliable funding source who knew when to listen to his scientific advisers, like van Dyckman, even if he didn’t understand the science himself.

  It certainly was a bad day all around, no denying that.

  As he climbed higher up the shaft, he felt a warm breeze flowing down from the top of the cavern. He heard a faint whistling sound, like wind moving from a vent in the ceiling, whispering through the outer safety mesh that wrapped around the metal ladder.

  Several rungs higher, the rushing air strengthened, and he realized that the maintenance shaft must be connected to an air duct that pulled fresh, outside air down into Hydra Mountain. Maybe it would lead him out! He really needed to get to the operations center, since he had a lot of damage control to do.

  Across the cavern, van Dyckman could see other ducts that must be carrying air up out of the Mountain, perhaps designed to vent diesel fumes from that gigantic crane. Eventually, the exhaust flow would draw out the halothane gas pooled down on the floor and make the lower level safe again.

  He paused just long enough to feel his bloody hands throb on the dirt-encrusted rungs. He had no intention of waiting for the system reboot to finish.

  The maintenance shaft extended up into the grotto ceiling above, and as he climbed higher, the wind rushed down from the opening. In the narrowing tunnel above, van Dyckman saw two lines of lights that led up into the solid rock, showing a clear path for him to climb. A way out.

  * * *

  As he ascended into the granite ceiling, he struggled against the increasing airstream. Rung after rung, he climbed straight up. He was well clear of the knockout gas, so his head was clear, but he still worried about falling. Once inside the ceiling, he felt much more claustrophobic than when he could see the expansive cavern.

  The rock around him muffled the ambient noise, but he heard a rhythmic throbbing high overhead. The string of dim lights that ran up the shaft showed him a little detail, but the shaft looked the same, and endless. He moved on, rung after rung, deeper and deeper into the grotto’s ceiling.

  Eventually, van Dyckman glimpsed light coming from the side—another tunnel, perpendicular to the vertical maintenance shaft. He reached a horizontal air vent that crossed into the shaft. Far above, he could definitely see rotating blades—a fan pulling outside air down into the cavern. That made sense, but it would block his way out from that direction if he climbed higher.

  A constant, gentler stream of air flowed into the horizontal duct, and he considered what he knew of the ventilation channels inside the Mountain. He must have reached the upper level, where the storage tunnels and the operations center were located.

  The choice was obvious. Van Dyckman could follow this horizontal vent until he found a place to get out. Now he was thankful for the health and safety regulations that required retrofitting this place under the new DOE stewardship.

  Squirming, he pulled himself into the horizontal shaft, sliding against its cold metal surface. He crawled forward on his stomach, smearing a path through the accumulated dust. At last, he had an escape plan.

  37

  Shawn hung on the crane boom as he studied the water spraying from the breach in the pool. “We’ve got to plug the leak. It’s the only way to keep the wall from collapsing and exposing the rods.”

  Adonia knew what a collapse of the pool would mean: radiation burst. A scattershot of billions of neutrons interacting with the Velvet Hammer nuclear pits … criticality, multiple detonations.

  “The water level is dropping already, and there wasn’t much clearance above the rods in the first place,” Garibaldi said. “With all that water pressure at the bottom of the pool, the breach will rip soon, and then we’ll have a catastrophic failure. It’s simple engineering.”

  Adonia said, “We’ve got to patch the wall at all costs, but what can we use to plug the leak? Do we lower ourselves down there and press some metal up against the side? Or maybe use those plastic slabs on the floor? Would that be enough?”

  The water sprayed out as if from a high-pressure hose, and the force of the water would blast away anything they tried to apply from the outside. They couldn’t stand there and plug the leak with their thumbs, like the Dutch boy did with the hole in the dike—it might undergo a catastrophic failure at any moment.

  “You couldn’t possibly adhere it well enough,” Garibaldi said. “And we’d fall unconscious in seconds in that swamp of halothane gas. How would we get to the materials? We’d never finish the job before we were overcome.”

  Shawn started working his way back down the crane’s boom. “You can’t patch it from the outside. The water pressure is too great. The only way to stop the leak is from the inside. The water pressure would hold a patch in place, form a seal.”

  “Like a bathtub stopper,” Adonia said. “But how do we apply a patch from the inside? The leak is twenty feet down, and the rod that caused the breach is in the way.”

  Shawn stated the obvious, sounding grim. “Somebody has to go down there. A lot of people will die if we don’t fix this.”

  Gray-skinned, Garibaldi looked exhausted and fatalistic. “When we swam across before, we were safe because the rods were set in the center of the pool, the water level was higher, and we stayed near the side, but now the situation has changed. When the rods toppled together there’s a good chance their cladding was damaged.” Somehow, he still managed to sound professorial. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, anyone who moves the rods out of the way and patches the breach will surely receive a lethal exposure.”

  Shawn took a deep breath. “Not a good way to go.”

  Adonia swallowed hard, and the water continued to spray out. “A thousand violins, but we’ll all be dead if that plastic fails.”

  “No time to lose,” Shawn said.

  Adonia didn’t bother to think, didn’t hesitate. “It’s got to be me. The breach is twenty feet down, and I’m the best swimmer.” She looked at Shawn. “You know it. Don’t argue.”

  He scrambled down the boom’s metal framework to get to her. “Not a chance. I’m not letting you.”

  Garibaldi reached up to block Shawn. “Stick to your climbing, boy. She’s right—she’s a much better swimmer than you.” He looked up at the ceiling and the catwalk that led to the communications shaft up above. “We can’t afford to wait three more hours for a rescue team. We’ve got to let them know now, and they’d better have the right emergency equipment when they finally get in here.” His brow furrowed. “Whatever we do, you know the patch on that pool will be only a temporary solution, but it may buy enough time.”

  Adonia nodded. “Harris doesn’t know that Victoria’s vault is open and the nuclear cores exposed, and he’ll need special equipment to secure and shield those warheads. There’s a Nuclear Emergency Support Team on base, stationed at Sandia labs. The NEST team can take care of the nukes, and Rob’s emergency crew can close down this pool.”

  She swallowed again, realizing the consequences of what she had volunteered to do—but it had to be done. What happened in the next few minutes might well affect the lives of millions of people.…

  Garibaldi stared down at the pool, his eyes darting back and forth. From above, Adonia could see the fuel rods toppled near the breach in the pool wall. Even in the deep, rippled water she could see the Senator’s body trapped by the rods, deep underwater, and she felt sickened.

  “I’ll climb down to the floor, hold my breath against the gas,” Shawn sa
id. “I’m sure I can push some of the construction material into the pool. If I collapse after that, you’ll still have what you need to make a patch, Adonia.”

  The cavern floor was a soup of marker smoke from the halothane, now five or six feet deep. Even if he got safely down to the floor, she knew Shawn could never make his way to the construction material, carry it to the top of the pool, and dump it into the water before the halothane rendered him unconscious. “You’d never make it.”

  His face was flushed. “We have to try!”

  “Your effort would be irrelevant, Colonel,” Garibaldi said. “I doubt even a strong swimmer like Ms. Rojas could pull it down twenty feet to the breach.”

  Adonia held on to the crane boom, feeling her desperation increase. “Then what are we going to use as a patch? If we don’t do something—”

  Garibaldi kept peering into the pool. “One must use whatever resources are available.” His smile reflected a moment of black humor. “And it’s about time Senator Pulaski finally made himself useful.” He pointed down at the corpse trapped under the water near the dislodged rods. “Human skin is waterproof and pliable enough to conform to a leak. Press the Senator’s body up against the tear, and it would form enough of a plug to stop the flow of water and temporarily prevent the wall from rupturing.”

  Adonia pulled back. “You want me to use his body as a patch?”

  “It’s already in the pool and down at the depth we need. It could be maneuvered in place without too much difficulty, and the water pressure will seal his body against the leak, acting as a plug. It would serve the purpose of keeping the water from draining and the side from collapsing, at least for a while. An emergency team can make permanent repairs as soon as they get in here.”

  “There’s nothing else we can use,” Shawn said, resigned. “And if we don’t do it, the alternative is a big nuclear flash, turning the Southwest into the world’s largest glass parking lot.”

  Adonia remained doubtful. “How would we move the fuel rod that’s pinning the Senator to the bottom? They weigh nearly a ton—too heavy to lift, even in water.”

  Garibaldi patted a horizontal strut on the boom. “Make a pulley by looping Colonel Whalen’s rope around this strut and lowering one end to the pool. We tie the rope around the top of the rod, and lever it up, two of us pulling down, as a counterweight. Once the rod is lifted off the Senator, the person in the pool can move the body.”

  “Brilliant.” Shawn tried to jockey around Garibaldi. “I’ll tie the rope, then wrestle the body into place at the bottom of the pool to seal the breach. It has to be done.”

  “Not a chance, Shawn,” Adonia said. “I already told you that requires swimming skills, and at that depth it’s easier for me. Arguing is only going to delay us until the nukes go off! Now let me do this.”

  They were partway up the crane’s extended boom, directly above the pool, but still nearly twenty feet higher than when they had jumped from the ledge. Adonia’s stomach lurched at the thought of missing the side and hitting one of the rods. No margin for error.

  Then she had an idea. “The rope,” she said to Shawn. “Drop it down into the water, and I can shimmy down before I tie it to the top of the rod.”

  “I don’t like this—”

  “You’re wasting time arguing.”

  His face set, Shawn looped the rope around a horizontal strut, secured one end on the lattice, and knotted the rope several times on the boom framework. He dropped the other end, and the yellow line snaked down until it hit the surface fifty feet below them, leaving plenty of slack for Adonia to pull to the bottom.

  “I’ll keep it tied, so we won’t strand you in the pool,” he said, avoiding her eyes, looking angry and ashamed. “We can rotate the rod, then pull you up. If we’re quick enough, we can limit your exposure.”

  Shawn didn’t say anything more, but she knew he was churning through numerous arguments in his own head, failing to convince himself.

  * * *

  Adonia forced herself to inhale deep breaths, getting ready to work her way down the rope to the pool. She was sure her mind was playing tricks when she smelled faint wisps of sweet gas stirred up from far below. Water continued to spray out from the puncture, but in a wider stream, clearly growing. If the pool suffered a catastrophic failure, she could never stop it.

  Adonia also knew in her heart that when she wrapped the rope around the fuel rod to move it, she would receive a massive lethal exposure. Before long, she would be just as dead as Senator Pulaski, although her death would be much slower and more painful.

  But she would have averted the catastrophe and saved countless lives. That was what mattered.

  She focused her thoughts, concentrating only on what she had to do. Simple, easy steps: slide down the rope, drop into the water, swim to the bottom, wrap the rope around the fallen fuel rod, free the Senator’s body, then press his skin against the breach in the wall as a temporary plug.

  As she performed the task, Adonia didn’t dare think about what the radiation would be doing to her cells, her internal organs. Even if she made it back out, she wouldn’t feel the effects immediately. But the damage would be done, and her body would quickly, painfully, fall apart in the next days or weeks.

  But if she didn’t do this, the water would keep pouring out and the plastic wall would soon fail. And that would be an incredibly bad day for everyone.

  Standing beneath her on a horizontal strut, Garibaldi leaned out and took hold of the rope, tugging it to him.

  Adonia pulled back. “What are you doing?”

  But the older scientist had already looped the rope around himself and was swinging half of his body away from the boom and out over the pool. He stared at the water below as he levered himself out farther. “I am perfectly capable of swimming deep and moving that man’s body. You may be the best swimmer, Ms. Rojas, but you’re too small. I’ve got the weight and height to move him.” He screwed up his face. “As soon as I free the Senator, you and Colonel Whalen need to escape up that maintenance shaft while there’s still time. Tell Harris everything that’s happened down here. You know what needs to be done to make the Mountain safe again. Don’t let them cover this up!”

  Precariously balanced, Adonia reached down to grab him by the arm. “I won’t let you do it. Don’t be—”

  Garibaldi used his momentum and pulled himself back toward the boom, balling his free hand into a fist. He punched Adonia full in the face, taking her completely by surprise. A bright flash of pain exploded from her nose, behind her eyes, and into her head.

  She reeled, nearly lost her grip, but hooked her elbow around one of the vertical struts. White and red flashes sparkled in front of her vision. Shawn was shouting. She drew back her hand from her nose and saw it covered with blood.

  “Sometimes you have to use more than pacifist methods,” Garibaldi said.

  She cleared her vision just in time to see him count silently to himself, then let go at the apex of his swing and slide fifty feet straight down into the pool.

  38

  After his ordeal so far, van Dyckman was surprised to be so flustered by something as trivial as a second sneeze, but the noise echoed inside the cramped metal duct, and it was damned annoying. As he crawled along on his bloody hands and knees, he stirred the dust buildup, and as the air flowed past him, it blew more grit and dust into his face. He sneezed again.

  Crawling through the cramped, dusty duct was better than climbing up those endless metal rungs, but the rectangular galvanized steel vent seemed to go on forever. At least he was still alive, unlike Victoria and the rest of the team. He was good at finding silver linings.

  He kept his head down, rehearsing what he would do once he found an exit, what he would say when he reached the operations center. Right now his entire universe consisted of a three-foot-wide and two-foot-high metal box that was infinitely long. He kept slithering ahead.

  Every twenty feet he passed a grid on the side of the duct that vented air int
o the tunnel, but he could see only concrete floor and granite walls covered with steel mesh. At last, he came to a larger vent grid, and when he peered through the slats, he found himself above one of the dry-storage side tunnels. Squinting, he could see a huge vault door, just like the one that had trapped them inside the Mountain when the shit first hit the fan. Through the vent he saw individual chambers—was Mrs. Garcia still trapped in one of them?

  He tried to orient himself. With all the administrative paperwork he had completed for Valiant Locksmith, he had seen maps of Hydra Mountain, the tunnels and lockdown vault doors, but he had never paid close attention to the details. During the first part of the inspection tour, he recalled seeing the metal air ducts along the tunnel ceiling. That must be where he was now, which meant he was crawling toward the interior corridor—not far from the operations center.

  No one could have predicted that a civilian plane would make an emergency landing inside the fence and trigger a cascade of chaos. Van Dyckman couldn’t be blamed for that, but the fool Pulaski had made the situation a thousand times worse by using his damned cell phone. The Senator had been Valiant Locksmith’s staunchest ally, but he was also an idiot.

  The State Department would probably play the national security trump card with Victoria’s covertly stored nukes. They’d argue to the President that Velvet Hammer was much more important than storing nuclear waste. Van Dyckman would find his own head on the chopping block, and Valiant Locksmith would be shut down, once again leaving all the nation’s nuclear power plants vulnerable.

  Pressed to show real progress as soon as possible, van Dyckman had cut a few corners by shipping highly enriched fuel rods into Hydra Mountain, and he’d done it much faster than he could build the pools to cool them. Senator Pulaski had facilitated that by circumventing the interagency review process, which probably would have stopped the rods from being shipped. And for sure, the pools from being built.