Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER THIRTY

COUNTDOWN TO ZERO HOUR 47 MINUTES

“IF THE GENERATORS fail, we’re done. We need to start the pump immediately. Get the—”

Marion turned the volume on the radio up, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

“Granddaddy, can we—”

Marion shushed Brianna with a wave of his hand. She froze momentarily, then came to his side to listen to the voices coming from the feed to the control room:

“—wait to know if it’s flooded or not?”

“We can’t take the chance. Turn the pump on now.”

Marion stood up so fast, the chair behind him fell. Pressing a button, he yelled into the radio, “Do not start the pump system. You cannot start the pump.”

Dead air was the only response.

“Hello?” he said. “Does anyone hear me?”

The blinking red transmission light in the control room behind George went unnoticed. Leaning back against the desk, the firefighter listened along with everyone else as Ethan directed the staff’s preparations to engage the pump that would remove the water they assumed had flooded the basement where the backup generators were stored.

“All right,” Ethan said. “Once we start the pump, we’ll monitor the…”

“Sorry,” George whispered, moving out of the way so Vikram could get to the panel. He stood up, and at the same time, they both noticed the blinking red light.

“Ethan,” Vikram said, hand raised as he pushed the button. Before Ethan could cross the room, Marion’s voice boomed through the speaker:

“—not start that pump!”

Marion was getting dizzy from screaming into the void, unheard, when finally a voice responded.

“Marion. We hear you. What’s—”

“Ethan,” Marion said, short of breath. “If you start the pump and the subbasement isn’t flooded, you’ll burn out the motor and blow the pump. It’s called dry running. When a pump runs without water, the internal components generate heat due to friction. The bearings, seals, and other parts will eventually overheat and fail. A pump like yours with that much power? You’ll destroy it instantly . You’ll kill one of the most important safety functions you have right now and there will be no recourse once you do.”

Brianna didn’t say a word as Marion leaned on the desk, waiting, breathing heavily. Impatient, he pushed the button. “Did you hear me?”

“We copied. We’re discussing.”

“If you’re not one hundred percent certain the subbasement is flooded,” Marion said, “there is no discussion.”

“But if we don’t start the pump now and we end up losing power, we’ll have limited options to start it after that.”

“Start it now and you might not have that pump at all.”

“Another dumb firefighter question,” George said. “If all this is about whether or not there’s water, then why don’t we just figure out if it’s flooded?”

“Because the pump is in the subbasement,” Ethan said as Joss pulled out another blueprint and laid it on top for George to see. “It’s a tiny room in our oldest reactor. Nothing monitors the area. No security cameras, no video. We have no way of knowing what’s going on in there.”

George looked around to see if he was the only one who didn’t get it. “Okay… so why doesn’t someone just go down and check?”

“Because based on what I found with my Geiger counter,” said Joss, “the level of radioactivity in that water will kill you within hours. Anyone who goes in isn’t coming out.”

Marion glanced down at Brianna, who stood by his side. He’d tried to sugarcoat as much of the day as he could, and thankfully, most of it had been over her head. But that was about as clear-cut as it got, and by the look on her face, he knew she understood. She looked up.

“So… they need to see inside,” she said, piecing it together. “But if they send a person into the building, it’ll kill them?”

Marion took a seat so he was at her eye level. Running a hand softly over her hair, he gave a small, conciliatory smile. “That’s right, baby girl.”

Brianna knit her brow, thinking. Looking up at her granddaddy, the first-grader cocked her head.

“Then don’t send a person.”