"Hold on, I'm leaving my office," Gail yelled.
Gail put her phone on speaker, ran to her door, and opened it. She heard people begin screaming in the building. The sound of slamming doors, pounding feet, and furniture being tipped over was spreading throughout the building.
"They're killing people. Please send help," Gail screamed, as she ran back to her phone.
She heard a sound behind her and looked back. A large man was standing in her doorway. He was dressed like a security guard, but he was Asian. She didn't remember seeing any Asians when she attended the monthly Security Safety meetings. She had been encouraging them to become a more diverse organization for the last two years.
"Who are you? What do you want? If this is a damn drill, then you've gone too far," Gail said, as Chonglin pulled his knife, entered the room, and shut the door.
"Ma'am, are you still on the line? What's happening?" the operator asked, as the sound of screaming came over the open line.
Waste Processing Building
Radiation Protection Office
1945 hours EST
"Everybody, get the hell out. The guards are killing people!" Cornell yelled, as he ran through the ALARA Office and into the Radiation Protection office.
"What? Have you gone crazy, Cornell. I'm not going anywhere. I've got to finish my RMS checks. Then I'm starting my Dailys," Kay said, while ignoring Cornell's pleading.
Tommy and Chris both walked in from the ALARA Office.
"Damn, Cornell, you've got to get back on Valium. I know you're a Vietnam vet, but that was a long time ago. You having flashbacks, or what?" Chris said, as both he and Tommy began laughing.
"Deever and Betty Miller just left here. They signed out of the RCA and were headed back to I&C. I followed them out. I wanted some chocolate from the vending machines across the street. I opened the door, and they got shot dead by a guard. They were right in front of me, not ten feet away," Cornell yelled, as he began walking for the exit in the office that headed into the power block.
"I always said that if something bad happened at the plant, it would be some damn guard," Chris said, as he turned and stared at Tommy.
"Dude, is this for real? Cornell, you better not be bullshitting us," Tommy said.
"I don’t believe a word of it. You boys are just plain stupid. I can't believe you're falling for Cornell's bullshit," Kay said, as she stood up and began walking toward the building exit that led outside.
"Don't do it, Kay. You'll die out there. I'm not kidding," Cornell said, from the doorway.
Kay pushed Cornell out of the way and walked out of the office. Cornell had come into the building from the double doors on her left. She walked to the doors on her right, 50 feet from the other set of doors, and pushed one open. Off to her left, two bodies lay on the pavement in pools of spreading blood. A guard was at the other door, with his hand on the knob. They stared at each other from 50 feet. He raised his weapon and fired as Kay ducked back into the building. The bullet struck the steel door, and ricocheted away, grazing Kay's cheek.
Kay ran back to the office with blood streaming from her face. She stuck her head into the door and yelled, "Run! Cornell's right. The guards are killing people!"
At the sight of her bloody face, all four technicians turned, and began running deeper into the Waste Processing Building.
The Turbine Building
1945 hours EST
Auxiliary Operator Tony Bostic and I&C Technician Bob Moore were on the 286' level of the Turbine Building. One of the High Pressure Governor valves was sticking at 80 percent open. This was limiting the amount of high pressure steam entering the High Pressure Turbine and decreasing plant output. Output was money from the customers, and maximizing that made Duke Energy management in Charlotte very happy.
"Quit bitching, Bob. We could be doing this on day shift. It would be a lot hotter," yelled Tony Bostic, as he and Bob Moore were carrying a 40' extension ladder across the 286' level of the Turbine building.
"Yeah, like 140 degrees instead of 120. It's still frikin' hot," Bob yelled over the intense noise of the operating plant.
In the South, Turbine Buildings were open on the sides. They had no outer walls. If they did, the inside temperatures would surpass 200 degrees Fahrenheit during the long, hot and humid summer months in the South. As is, it was over 100 degrees as they headed for the faulty governor valve.
They never noticed the two guards who were walking by on their right. Renshu and Bingwen noticed them. Neither the operator nor the I&C tech made it home to their families the next morning.
Renshu and Bingwen walked to the end of the building, and then up an open stairwell to reach the 305' level of the Turbine Building. Another Operator lay at the base of the stairs on 286'. He had started his shiftly round of inspections a little early.
They came to a 'T' as they entered the Auxiliary Building, which was connected to the Turbine Building. The Main Control Room entrance was through a key card door on the left. The door on the right led to an office area called the AO Corral, where Auxiliary Operators, not assigned to the Main Control Room, had cubicles, offices, and a group eating area. Renshu entered the Main Control Room. Bingwen entered the AO Corral.
Main Control Room
1952 hours
The Main Control Room was considered the inner sanctum by Operations. This was their cathedral. All other personnel on site were subservient to them. From here they controlled the multi-billion dollar marvel that was the Harris Nuclear Power Plant. Almost all of the operators were veterans of the US Navy nuclear power program. As such, they were a highly trained, highly motivated group of very select individuals. The Navy had trained them that way. They had ruled the seas in the name of the United States of America. Now they ruled commercial nuclear power. Each individual was licensed by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission as a Reactor Operator or Senior Reactor Operator. Almost all of them were men. The Shift Superintendent was their leader. It was his plant. Site and corporate management were irrelevant. If the plant ran, it was his call. If the plant shut down, it was his call . . . until now.
Shift turnover had concluded at 1900. All the day shift operators had left site.
Renshu was a bit stunned when he walked into the Main Control Room. It reminded him of an American science fiction movie that he had seen years ago. An older man stood to the left on an elevated platform. Two others were constantly scanning the curved array of indicators, gauges and lights, known as the Main Control Board. A sign at the entrance to the area said, 'Access Restricted. Request Permission to Enter."
A row of glass-fronted cubicles lined the wall on the left. A man stepped out and asked, "What are you doing in here? Security drills are restricted in this area," the man said, staring at Renshu's raised weapon.
Renshu shot him in the chest from a range of two feet, and then entered the restricted area without asking permission.
All three operators turned and stared. Renshu shot the older man and the closest operator, and then yelled, "Do not move or you die!"
Barton James was a Senior Reactor Operator. He had been at Harris for 11 years. Another year and he would have qualified for Shift Superintendent. He froze and raised his hands.
"Trip the reactor," Renshu ordered.
Renshu wasn't sure what that meant, but those were the words he had been told to use.
"What? Why do you want . . ." Barton asked, trying to understand what had just happened.
"Trip the reactor, or I will kill you and find someone who can," Renshu said.
Barton turned and stared at the center of the Main Control Board. A large red button stood on an angled panel. It was covered with a plastic case to prevent inadvertent actuation. The SCRAM button was for emergency shutdown of the nuclear reactor.
The term was from the original reactor built by Enrico Fermi under the spectator seating at the University of Chicago's Stagg Field. It stood for "Safety Control Rod Ax Man." A man with a fire ax had been assigned to cut a manila ro
pe and drop a wooden board covered with cadmium into the core if the neutron flux became too high. The antiquated term was a tradition in the nuclear reactor business.
Barton pointed at the red button and lowered his arms. To press it without express orders from the on-shift Operations Shift Superintendent was career suicide, but so was disobeying this man. He walked over to the Main Control Board and used an attached key to unlock the cover. He looked back once, then stared at the button. Then he placed his right index finger on the button and pressed. It clicked, and a hundred alarms began blaring on the Main Control Board.
Barton stared at the alarms, wanting to take the actions drilled into him by years of training. The blare of the alarms and the flashing lights were the last thing he saw as a bullet entered the back of his head.
. . . .
Renshu and Bingwen met in the hall outside the Main Control Room.
"Good hunting?" Renshu asked.
"I went through two magazines in there. They were all sitting down to eat when I walked in. When I started shooting, they were running around like chickens," Bingwen said, while handing Renshu a fried chicken leg.
Renshu laughed at the joke, and then took the chicken leg and took a bite. He was getting hungry.
As of 2000 hours, only a handful of Harris personnel were still alive, and they were in hiding within the vast plant.
Rad Waste Control Room
2000 hours EST
The four Radiation Protection techs, burst into the Rad Waste Control Room, and all began yelling at once.
Steve Kroder, the on-shift operator for the processing of radioactive waste, was sitting at his desk and thinking about the next home improvement project that he and his wife Judy were planning.
"What is wrong with you people? This may not be the Main Control Room, but you still require permission, my permission, to enter this area. Damn Kay, what happened to your face? Did you run into something?" Steve asked, while discarding a magazine on in-ground swimming pools.
Steve was an aberration in the Operations organization. He wasn't ex-Navy. He was an ex-Army nuke and he refused to kiss anyone's ass. That's why, after 15 years as an operator, he was still buried below ground in the Rad Waste Control Room, processing all the liquid radioactive waste that the plant generated.
"Where's your First Aid Kit? She got shot!" Tommy asked, as he began looking for a kit.
"Damn it, Steve, call the Main Control Room! We were in our office upstairs when a guard starting shooting people outside the building. Cornell saw two get shot dead. When Kay didn't believe him, she went to look for herself. The guy shot at her and she got hit with a ricochet," Chris said, as Steve tossed Tommy the First Aid Kit from one of his desk drawers.
"You guys better not be messing with me. Is that real blood or ketchup?" Steve asked.
Kay gave him the finger.
Steve looked at Kay's cheek, and then picked up his phone and hit the autodial for the Main Control Room. No one answered. He tried four other Operations numbers, but no one was answering. Then he called Security Command Central. No one answered.
"What the hell is going on? The Control Room didn't answer. Security didn't answer," Steve said, while staring at the four RPs.
Cornell was pacing back and forth. Tommy and Chris were taking care of Kay's injury. Kay was shaking, and holding onto Chris's arm, while Tommy cleaned her wound.
"We've been overrun. This is just like 'Nam. My last day in country and the fire base I was on got hit that night. They blew through the mines, the wire and the phougas, just like it was nothing. We fought for two days. Two full companies; and only ten of us got out unhurt," Cornell said, as the pacing continued.
"Look, exactly what did you see? How many guards were shooting?" Steve asked.
"I only saw one, but there were more of them out by the Security Building," Cornell said.
Kay nodded in agreement, as Tommy applied a bandage to her cheek.
"Who got shot?" Steve asked.
"Deever and Betty Miller were both on the ground, and it was real, Steve. Their brains and blood were scattered everywhere. Trust me it was real. I know what the real shit looks like," Cornell said.
Steve tried the Main Control Room again. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. He hung up the phone and stared at the four RPs.
"Did you guys see the President's speech last night?" Steve asked.
They all said that they had seen it or read about it.
"Could either one of you see what the guy looked like who was doing the shooting?" Steve asked.
"Are you shittin' me? All I saw was bodies and some asshole shooting at me," Kay said, as she stood up and then sat back down.
"Tommy, I feel dizzy," Kay said.
"Lay on the floor. Put your knees up. The wound wasn't bad, but you may be going into shock. Just breathe deep and try to relax," Tommy said.
"He was dressed like a security guard. He was Asian, and the weapon . . . the weapon had a suppressor," Cornell said, as the scene he observed began playing back in his mind.
Steve tried the Main Control Room and Security Command Central. Again, there was no answer.
"If I'm wrong they'll have my ass for this, but I'm calling 911," Steve said, as he dialed an outside line, and then dialed 911.
The line clicked dead, as if the call was automatically terminated. He tried it again and again, with the same response. Then he tried calling his wife at home. The line clicked dead. Then he tried the internet. It was blocked.
"I can't get an outside line and no access to the internet. That means that this is real. Something bad is going on. Either the guards have gone nuts, or we've been attacked by these Chinese dudes the President was talking about," Steve said.
"The President talked about a missing bomb. These guys had a missing bomb, a friking nuke," Chris said.
"They want to blow up the plant," Tommy said, while staring at Chris.
"You boys are all crazy! It has to be something else," Kay said, while lying on her back with her knees up.
"Yeah, and the last time you said that, your ass got shot," Chris said.
"Screw you, Chris," Kay replied.
"We need some guns," Cornell said, as he began pacing again.
"The guards have lockers in all the buildings. I had a guard tell me a few years ago that they keep backup weapons and ammo in those lockers," Chris said.
"Yeah, I've seen those lockers. They have the mother-of-all padlocks on them, and the lockers are steel and bolted to the floor," Steve said.
"Yeah, and the Tool Room one floor up has the mother-of-all bolt cutters. There's one in there that's four feet tall. The cutting heads are the size of my hands," Tommy said.
"If we cut one of those open and this is bullshit, they won't just fire us. The FBI will put us behind bars for 20 years. They'll call us the terrorists. Just saying," Tommy said.
"We should just wait this out and do nothing," Kay said.
"The Main Control Room is down. Security is down. Comm with the outside has been cut. This is serious shit. If it's these Chinese guys, why would they attack a nuclear plant? Why this one?" Cornell asked.
"Like Tommy said, the plant's the target," Chris said.
"Back in the 90's I worked on a project to convert the Spent Fuel Pools to hold more spent fuel racks. When Jimmy Carter screwed the pooch, and forbid spent fuel recycling in the US, the utilities were caught with no place to put their spent fuel. We had to reinforce the floors on the bottom of the pools to hold more than their original design load. The problem was that the pools were already in use. That project was a bitch. We contaminated the whole floor more than once. But in the end we made enough room for Robinson and Brunswick to start sending us all their old fuel," Tommy said.
"So what's that got to do with anything?" Kay asked.
"I don't know how many spent fuel bundles we've got in our pools, but it must be thousands," Tommy said.
"If it is the Chinese and if they've got the missing nuke .
. ." Steve began.
"Then we're a big ass target. If you want to mess this country up, then pop a nuke inside that building," Tommy said.
"That would be crazy," Kay said.
"Yeah, that would be crazy," Tommy replied, and stared at her.
CHAPTER 40
The Langford Home
106 East Whitaker Mill Road
Raleigh, North Carolina
August 2, 2017
2000 hours EST
Amanda had finished searching through the barn in South Carolina, and what remained of the house. Then she forwarded her findings to Director Davidson. Janet told her to take a few days off to recover from the effects of the IED before reporting back to work. Amanda didn't argue. She had a blistering headache that wouldn't go away, and she couldn't get the sight of DHS agent Honer's torn face out of her mind.
Not wanting to spend a few days in some motel in South Carolina, she decided to rent a car, drive up to Raleigh, and visit her parents in their new house.
The sun was heading down, and the shadows were growing, as Amanda pulled up to the front of the house. She turned into the driveway, her engine still running, and verified the address from an e-mail that her mother had sent. Texting was still a little too advanced for her parents.
The lot was small, but well kept. It was a two-story brick house painted tan with white trim. A covered porch ran the length of the house. The steps were on the left. A wooden swing, painted white, hung on the right side of the porch. She saw her father pass by a window and she began to cry.
"Great, I walk in crying like a little girl who had her feelings hurt at school. That'll make a great impression. I haven't seen them since Christmas, and in that time they sold the farm and moved here. They're getting old, and I've been too busy to even pay them a visit," Amanda said, while wiping tears from her eyes.
"Okay, girl, get your act together," she said, while lowering the visor and checking her face in the mirror.
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