by Tracy Deebs
“Mass death is being reported, though no one has been able to give a numerical estimate yet. Those who did not die outright are suffering burns and radiation poisoning at such a high level that death is imminent.
“Again, for those of you just tuning in, the Dungeness Nuclear Power Stations in Kent, England, have suffered the worst nuclear accident in history. While they are the first since Pandora’s Box was opened four days ago, they surely will not be the last. Already, low levels of radiation are leaking from plants all over the world as their cooling systems fail, and it is only a matter of time until they all meet the same fate as the Dungeness Station.
“The Pandora’s Box countdown says six days until total annihilation, but many of the world’s experts believe that is an optimistic number. As nuclear power plants continue to hemorrhage at an alarming rate, we may only be looking at three or four days before the catastrophic, the unthinkable, happens.”
Eli slams his hand against the steering wheel hard enough to leave bruises. I lean forward, switch off the radio, and we drive the rest of the way in silence. There really isn’t anything else to say.
“We’re here,” Theo says as we drive past a sign that reads, WELCOME TO HUGOTON, NATURAL GAS CAPITAL, and another one, a little farther down the road, that reads, I HUGOTON, POPULATION 3,955.
“Oh, joy.” Sorry if I sound bitter, but really, it’s hard to get excited about this. Because while Jean may have convinced Theo and Eli that we’re looking for an ethanol factory, I’m more than a little afraid that what we’re actually looking for is a cornfield.
Every other picture has been of the exact area we need to visit—why should this one be any different? Of course, judging by the number of cornfields we’ve already driven by, finding the right one could be the biggest challenge yet.
Things go dim all of a sudden, and I look out the window just in time to see a huge storm cloud, dark gray and ominous looking, slide in front of the sun. Off in the distance—over one of the ubiquitous cornfields—lightning sizzles across the sky. About ten seconds later a huge rumble of thunder rolls through the air above us, shaking the ground with its intensity.
Of course. Because the only thing worse than looking for a specific cornfield in Kansas is looking for a specific cornfield in Kansas in the middle of a thunderstorm. I look at the guys in the front seat, try to see if they’re thinking the same thing I am. Eli looks blissfully unconcerned, while Theo is driving with the same grim focus he always has.
He turns at—you guessed it—Main Street, and as we drive through the streets of Hugoton, I’m struck by how different it is from Colorado Springs. Not just in size, but in atmosphere.
Here, there are no tanks in the street, no men in military trucks, and there doesn’t appear to have been any looting—at least not in the area we’re in.
There are people in the streets here, talking to each other while the occasional car drives by. It’s a tiny town, certainly the smallest we’ve had as a destination so far, though we’ve driven through towns smaller than this on the back roads in both New Mexico and Colorado.
“I guess we could just ask someone,” Eli suggests. “It’s not like there are so many plants around here that no one will know what we’re talking about.”
“What about cornfields?” I ask, still annoyed about the crazy task in front of us. “Should we ask them where to find this one?” I wave the picture around.
Theo and Eli ignore me, which only makes me feel more like a little girl throwing a tantrum. Closing my eyes, I practice some deep yoga breathing and try to calm down. It doesn’t work, but I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything obnoxious as Theo pulls up to two old men sitting on a wooden bench in front of a mercantile-type store.
I’m astonished to realize that it’s still open, and there are still goods on the shelves. Not a lot, but some. And while there’s no electricity, it’s still in good shape, unlike everywhere else we’ve been. I can’t help wondering why that is.
Is it because everyone knows everyone else, and it’s a lot harder to destroy the property of people you work with or have had dinner with? Or is it just that small towns operate on a completely different system of chaos and disorder than large cities do?
I start to lean forward, to ask the men if they’ve had any problems around here at all, but after giving Theo directions—he was right, there’s only one ethanol plant in town—one tells him, “Going out there is just a waste of your time. That plant is closed up tighter than a drum.”
“Yeah,” the other one says, a serious look on his weathered face. “And there’s a storm brewing. Looks like a nasty one. There’s not much left open in town, but you’re welcome to come to my house and sit out the storm, if you’d like.”
His generosity and trust in the face of everything going on humble me. Make me feel even more churlish and childish. And do what Eli and Theo haven’t been able to do—convince me that we really have a chance to win this. My father may no longer see the good in the world, may think that setting us back to zero is the only way to fix things, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with him.
“Thanks,” Theo tells him. “We appreciate the offer, but we’re in kind of a hurry.”
“Yeah, but do you know how to drive in a storm like this?” the first man asks.
“We’ll be careful,” Eli promises. “Thanks again for your help.”
Still, once we pull away from the curb, Theo starts driving pretty fast. “I want to beat the storm out to the ethanol plant if we can. That way, instead of wasting the time sitting around waiting for the storm to end, we can be inside, trying to figure out what we’re supposed to find.”
We ride the twelve or so miles to the ethanol plant in silence. Theo’s concentrating on driving, Eli’s lost in thought, and, as for me, I just keep glancing out the back window at the storm that’s chasing us. For most of the drive, Theo’s done a good job of keeping ahead of it, but in the last couple of minutes it’s started closing in fast.
I turn back around, peer out through the sudden darkness at the huge buildings and tanks looming to the right of us. We’re almost there, the turnoff to the plant only a few hundred yards ahead. I point it out to Theo as a lightning bolt splits the sky in front of us. It’s followed, only a second later, by a huge clap of thunder.
“Hurry,” I tell him. “We can’t get caught out here in this.”
“I know.” His voice is grim, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“What’s the big deal?” Eli asks. “It’s just some rain—”
He breaks off as something slams hard against our windshield.
“What was that?” he demands, while Theo makes the sharp turn as fast as he can and speeds down the lane toward shelter.
As he drives, the loud bang is followed by a bunch of other hits against the roof of the car, one right after another, like machine-gun fire.
“It’s hail,” I tell him as Theo slows down the van considerably.
“Maybe we should have taken the old guy up on his offer,” Eli says uneasily, and I realize that, as a California boy, he might never have seen hail.
Before I can answer, more hail hits us, slamming into the windshield, the hood of the van, the roof, the tailgate. From what I can see—which, admittedly, isn’t much—it’s the size of golf balls. Maybe even bigger.
“Shit.” Theo hits the brakes, and the van slips and slides across the muddy road before finally coming to a stop.
“What are you doing?” Eli demands. “We’re sitting ducks like this.”
Theo is too busy turning the wheel and creeping forward, angling the van directly into the hailstorm to answer him, so I say, “Yeah, well, getting hit by hail when we’re stationary is a lot better than getting hit by it while we’re moving.”
“The faster the car is going, the more impact the hail is going to make,” Theo adds.
“You guys should get back here.” I scoot to the far right of the backseat, trying to give them more room. “I don’t thi
nk that windshield is going to make it.”
Seconds later, three hailstones the size of baseballs hit the windshield, one right after the other. The last one actually craters the windshield, making a tangerine-size hole in it. Eli jumps and scrambles into the back. Theo quickly follows, and we sit out the storm huddled together as best we can.
Outside, the wind picks up, slamming hail and debris hard against the driver’s side of the van. Rocking us back and forth. Another hailstone slams through the windshield, making another large hole for rain and cold air to flow through. I glance at Eli, and he’s paler than I’ve ever seen him. Not that I blame him. I’ve been in dozens of hailstorms, and this is making me crazy-nervous. I can only imagine what he’s feeling right now.
Eventually, the air cools enough that the hail stops. I breathe a sigh of relief, even though the storm is showing no sign of abating. But I can handle rain. It’s the hail that makes me nervous. All my life I’ve heard horror stories of people dying from getting hit in the head by hailstones. Jules always tells me they’re just urban myths, but I’ve seen enough stories about it on the news to know it’s possible.
“Is it done?” Eli asks. In answer, lightning arcs across the sky, thunder following almost simultaneously.
“Not quite,” Theo mutters, even as he climbs back in the front seat to get a better look at the world around us.
“The hail is over,” I tell Eli.
“But the storm’s just getting started.” Theo points at the sky to the left of us, where new bolts of lightning are ripping through the clouds every second or so. Thunder has become a continuous, never-ending rumble that shakes the truck and the ground all around us.
I look on in horror, knowing what Theo is going to say even before he gives voice to his thoughts. “We can’t,” I tell him.
“We have to,” he says, trying to start the van. “Eli’s right. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
“I thought the hail was done,” Eli says.
“It is. But the lightning’s just beginning.” The engine won’t catch, making a high-pitched whiny noise every time Theo tries to turn over the ignition. It wasn’t in the best shape to begin with, and the storm must have damaged something.
Theo says as much, and Eli responds with, “Who cares? We’ll wait for the storm to blow past, and then we’ll search the plant. Surely they have some kind of truck we can take.”
Theo’s hands clench around the steering wheel, while the nerves jangling through my system coalesce into a cold ball of fear in the pit of my stomach. “We’re not going to be able to wait. We’ve got to get out of here,” he tells us.
“Are you nuts?” Eli demands. “It’s lightning out there.”
Theo glances at me. “You know I’m right.”
I nod because I can’t speak. All the saliva in my mouth has suddenly dried up. Still, I reach for my boots and slide my feet into them, ignoring the pain from the blisters on my heels. The boots are rubber soled, which gives me a better shot at surviving this latest twist.
“I don’t know you’re right!” Eli shakes his head in disbelief as another flash of lightning slams into the ground a few yards from us.
“This van is the only metal thing out here,” I tell him. “It’s going to get hit by lightning.”
“We’ll get hit if we go out there. Besides, I thought the tires made the car safe.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not willing to take that risk. Especially with those holes.” Theo points to the destroyed windshield. “If the storm gets worse, the last place we want to be is in a truck that doesn’t work and can’t block out the elements or flying debris.”
“I’m not going out there—”
“Yes, you are.” Theo’s tone leaves no room for disagreement. He points to the closest building. “That’s where we’re going. You ready, Pandora?”
No. Not even close. But as lightning electrifies the sky around us, I know we’re out of time. “Let’s go.”
I slip my backpack over my shoulders, grab the door handle, slide it open. “In case lightning struck the van or the ground near us, when you jump out make sure you land on both feet,” I tell Eli. He nods, grim faced. I give him a reassuring smile that I’m far from feeling, and then I jump.
The frigid rain hits me, followed immediately by the sharp slap of the wind that nearly knocks me to the ground. But then Theo and Eli are there, on either side of me, grabbing my elbows and bolstering me up. “Let’s go!” Theo shouts.
Bent low, we take off running, dodging around or leaping over debris every few steps. I look at the ground, fighting the wind and doing my best not to trip as I trust Theo to guide us in the right direction. Putting one foot in front of the other is hard enough right now without having to worry about direction, too.
Still, with the wind pushing powerfully against us, it seems to take forever to get where we’re going. I’m exhausted, terrified, barely able to catch my breath in the electrified air all around us.
I stumble, go down onto one knee.
Get back up.
Run a few more feet.
Stumble again.
This time I hit the ground hard. Before I can push myself up, Theo lifts me against him, throws me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and takes off even faster toward the building.
I don’t fight him, though my face flames with embarrassment as his breathing grows heavier. I’m not overweight, but at almost six feet tall, I’m not a hundred pounds, either.
We finally make it to the building, just as lightning explodes around us. I hear a loud pop, see the van light up for a second. Theo and Eli don’t notice as they’re busy trying to find a way inside, but my heart nearly stops. We could have been in there.
Before I can wrap my mind around what I’ve just seen, Theo slides me to the ground. He tries the door right in front of us while Eli tries one about fifteen yards away. Neither one opens. At that moment, lightning hits the ground a few feet from us.
“Screw this,” I hear Theo mutter, and then he kicks the door as hard as he can. Eli runs over, joins him. A few seconds later, the door rips away from its hinges. We’re in.
We rush across the room, not stopping until we get to the center, well away from the open door. Then we collapse on the floor in a heap. We watch the storm raging through the windows that line the right side of the room.
I don’t know how long we sit there. Long enough for my heart to stop racing and my clothes to grow clammy. More than long enough for my body to start registering the new aches and pains that falling twice has given me.
I stretch a little, groan as my muscles protest.
Theo looks at me with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Just peachy.” I smile a little to soften the sarcasm of my answer.
He clears his throat. “I guess trying to beat the storm out here wasn’t such a good idea, after all.”
Eli and I just sit and stare at him in amazement. And then we start to laugh.
40
It takes me longer to stop laughing than it does Eli. When I finally wind down, he and Theo are staring at me with bemused expressions on their faces. I want to reassure them that our mad dash through the storm isn’t the thing that’s finally pushed me around the bend, but since I can still feel a bubble of hysteria deep inside me, I’m not sure it’s the truth.
“So?” I ask when I catch my breath. “Any bright ideas?”
Eli shakes his head. Theo says, “Not a one.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” I push to my feet. “I guess we should probably start looking for the clue. Whatever it is.”
“We don’t know that it’s in this building,” Eli says as he, too, stands.
“Yeah, but we don’t know that it isn’t, either.” I pull my flashlight out of my backpack. It’s dark outside, and any small amount of light cast by the moon and stars has pretty much been obliterated by the storm clouds.
I shine the light around, try to figure out what kind of building we’re in.
> This room is huge and cavernous, with large stainless-steel tables running the length of the back wall, covered in chemistry supplies. There are a number of what look like lab stations set up in the center of the room—that’s what Eli, Theo, and I had been leaning against when we first got in here—and a chemical shower in the front corner. I know what it is because it looks just like the one in my AP Chem classroom.
When I shine the light up, I realize I can’t see the ceiling. The second and third floors are built so that they ring the edges of the building and look down on this central lab. I’m not sure what’s up there, but I do know one thing. This is a huge building with a million places to search. And it’s just one of the buildings at this plant. If we don’t get lucky here, God only knows how long we’re going to be at this.
With the way things have been going, I think our only hope is to keep moving. Staying around here for too long is just asking for trouble.
Theo comes up behind me, places his hands on my shoulders and starts to rub exactly where it hurts. I almost ask him how he knows, but I’m afraid he’ll stop—and the absence of pain feels so good that I want it to go on forever.
“You want to search down here?” he asks softly. “Eli can take the second floor, and I’ll do the third.”
“The faster we get started, the faster we’ll be done,” Eli says, coming to stand next to us.
“Sure.” Reluctantly, I pull away from Theo. “I just wish I knew what we were looking for.”
“You can’t remember anything about this place?” Theo asks.
“Nothing.”
“Piece of cake,” Eli tells me with a wink.
“Yeah. Right.”
I move away from him, start looking over the stainless-steel tables against the wall. As I look, I hear Eli and Theo head toward the metal stairs in the corner. They start to climb, and I bend down, look under the tables. Nothing. Big surprise.
As I get to the end of the wall, the noise from the storm suddenly seems much louder. There’s also a banging sound I can’t identify, at least not until I turn the corner and see a dull slice of light. It’s incongruous here, where the only light should be coming from our flashlights. The banging is getting louder, though, so I follow it—and the odd beam of light. That’s when I realize it’s a weak flashlight, pointing at a wide-open back door. The door is banging against the wall, and I rush to close it. As I do, I can’t help wondering who the flashlight belongs to. The not knowing makes me nervous. Still, I keep going until I stumble over some debris from the storm. I nearly fall, but slap my hand against the wall to steady myself. As I do, I look down and realize what I’ve tripped over. It’s the thing that’s holding the door open. Not debris, but a human hand.