"Will all of you shut up and listen. If that bomb goes off in here it will take the spent fuel with it. If you can't stop this thing from going off, then we have to move the bomb as far away from here as possible. That's all we can do and we don't have time for a discussion!" Chris yelled, while pounding on the steering wheel of the fork lift.
They all looked at Anthony. He looked at the three civilian experts.
"Can you disarm it in time? Yes . . . or no?" Anthony asked.
They all looked at each other, and then shook their heads.
Anthony looked over at the Stryker, and signaled the driver to back the vehicle out of the way.
"How much time?" Anthony asked.
"8 minutes and 50 seconds," Chris said, while starting the forklift's engine and sliding the forks under the pallet containing the bomb.
Tommy stood beside him and said, "Chris, this is crazy. Let one of the military guys do this. This isn't our job."
"Tommy, haven't you been saying all night that this was our plant, our responsibility . . . our job. I know how to drive this thing. They don't. When I leave, get them all inside. Get downstairs and wait out the blast. Then you can go back upstairs and exit down into the Waste Processing Building. You'll be shielded the whole way. You know how to protect them," Chris said, as he and Tommy shook hands for the last time.
"Dude, we were supposed to live through this, and go drink beer at the Aviator Brewery. We were going to give Kay and Cornell a hard time for hiding out while we were out doing all the hard work," Tommy said, while choking back tears.
"I know . . . I know . . . drink one for me, and tell Kristie how much I love her," Chris said, as he turned away, and lifted the pallet off the floor.
"I will . . . brother, I will," Tommy said, as Chris pulled the forklift forward, and began driving across the asphalt toward the Protected Area security fence.
Large sections of the fence were gone. The Strykers had taken care of that. He could see military vehicles fleeing toward the south as fast as they could go. A brown truck was pulled off to the side of the road as he passed through the fence. As he drove by on the left side, a man rose from a crouched position on the other side of the truck.
. . . .
Aiguo took careful aim at the forklift driver's head sticking up above the seat as he drove past.
"You will not rob me of this victory. I will see this country brought to its knees. My statue will stand beside one of General Kung in the Great Hall of the People," Aiguo said, as he raised his 9mm pistol, and slowly began to squeeze the trigger.
Fired from behind him, the .45 caliber bullet shattered Aiguo's right shoulder. The 9mm round fired from his pistol caromed off the side of the forklift, as it continued down the gravel road, away from the plant.
This wound hurt much worse than the earlier shot in the left side of his back. The sound of the weapon seemed familiar, Aiguo thought, as he fell to his knees and sagged backwards against the truck bumper. His legs crumpled under him as he began to lose consciousness. Then he heard the sound of boots crunching on gravel to his right. A man in uniform walked past him, then turned and squatted down in front of him.
Anthony said nothing as he stared at the dying man in front of him. He had seen this face in his dreams many times over the past few months.
"I still win. I took your wife . . . now I'll take your country," Aiguo said, while bloody spittle foamed from his mouth.
"No . . . you still lose. I have her in here," Anthony said, as he tapped his chest with his left hand.
"The United . . . States . . . of America . . . will survive. We always do. We always will. But your country . . . something tells me that the President is going to make China pay for this day," Anthony said, as he raised his .45 in his right hand, and shot Aiguo between the eyes.
Aiguo's head slammed back against the bumper of the truck. His body slid slowly down into the dirt. Anthony stared at the corpse for a few seconds, and then glanced at his watch.
"4 minutes, time to go," he said, as he stood and turned to look at the road heading north. He could just see the forklift heading into the woods. He turned and began sprinting back toward the Fuel Handling Building.
North of the Harris Plant
0443 hours EST
Chris had run the forklift up the paved road that paralleled the railroad tracks leading to the Fuel Handling Building until he got to the small helipad. Then he had turned left, passed through an empty security check point, and headed west down a dirt road. He leaned over and stared at the timer on the bomb.
"4 minutes . . . I've got to get as far away as possible," he thought, as he sped through a sharp right hand turn that headed north.
He turned on the small headlights on the fork lift as he got further away from the bright lights of the plant. He passed some small houses, and hoped that the families that lived there had evacuated. He knew this road. Tommy had gotten permission to hunt back here a few years ago. It was in the Fall. Tommy liked to hunt deer from a tree stand. Chris remembered that they hadn't seen one buck, and that he had frozen his ass off while sitting up in a swaying pine tree. He smiled at the memory as the forklift bounced down the dirt road.
Chris then thought about his early life, and a father who had been so hard on him. He thought about the Navy, and where that had led. Marriages and children, vacations and parties, the houses and the places, all the friends he had known, everywhere he had lived. Then he thought about Harris. He had worked here while the plant was owned by three different companies. But it hadn't mattered. Most of his friends in Radiation Protection had worked with him for over 20 years. Management had changed, but they had stayed together. They had grown old together. When the plant had first started up, they talked about the plant softball league, raising kids, bowling, drinking and women. Back then, those were the normal things that young men talked about. Now it was grandkids, retirement, insurance policies, and which doctor's appointment or surgery you had scheduled next.
"2 minutes . . ." he said, as the trees closed in and it grew very dark.
The storm had paused, as if catching its breath, leaving behind a fresh coolness. He could hear tree frogs and other night creatures out looking for food before the next onslaught. Small branches covered the road. He hoped that he didn't come across a large tree blocking his path.
He slowed, as the forklift crossed the railway tracks, and kept going. The road was straight for another mile. Chris knew he'd never reach the next curve. He looked up, and saw that the sky had cleared for just a moment. He breathed deep, reveling in the sweetness of the night air. Then he stared at the stars as tears began to fall down his face.
Chris looked down at the timer, one final time, "1 minute . . . I'll miss this life," he said, as he breathed deeply once more, and drove on into the darkness.
CHAPTER 58
The Detonation
August 3, 2017
0445 hours EST
They rushed down the north stairwell of the Fuel Handling Building, as Tommy led them deeper into the plant. Anthony had wanted to join his troops on the other side of the site, but Amanda had convinced him that his troops were as safe as possible, considering the circumstances.
On Anthony's command, a warning of an imminent nuclear detonation had been sent to brigade headquarters. Then the battalion had rushed toward the massive set of concrete buildings that plant workers called the Power Block. The plant had been built after the accident at Three Mile Island and was built like a modern day fortress. The walls of the major buildings were high density concrete, reinforced with dense layers of steel rebar. The outer walls were at least four feet thick. The Reactor Containment Building had been designed to resist the impact of a Boeing 707 at terminal velocity. The Fuel Handling Building was almost as strong. A thousand soldiers flowed into the Waste Processing Building like ants, searching for cover.
Ground level at the plant was 261' feet above sea level. The lowest level in the plant was 190'. Concrete, steel and dirt were ev
erything. They were shielding from the blast and radiation. Shielding was survival.
The Pentagon had been notified of an imminent nuclear detonation near the Harris Nuclear Plant. The NC State EOC had been notified next. Within minutes, alerts had been sent to emergency organizations across the nation.
. . . .
Tommy opened the door onto the 216' elevation of the north end of the Fuel Handling Building. Seventeen people followed behind him as he shut the door and glanced at his watch.
"90 seconds!" he yelled, as he thought about Chris, and what he must be thinking.
Kate groaned as they placed her on the cold concrete floor. SSG Clay rushed over to her side and looked into her eyes.
"I think you need some more meds," he said, as he reached into his med kit.
"No . . . I want to remember this. I want to feel it as it happens," Kate said, while grabbing his wrist.
SSG Clay nodded, sat beside her, and leaned back against the concrete wall.
"You know, I've been through some wild shit, but this takes the cake," he said, while injecting himself with the potent mixture of pain killers and uppers.
"Each to their own," she said, as she looked around at the others trapped below ground awaiting the detonation of a nuclear weapon three times as powerful as the Hiroshima weapon.
Anthony and Amanda stood a few yards away, in a corner, away from the others.
"I'm a Nuclear Engineer and I've studied these things, but I have no idea how this is going to end. If he gets the device far enough away, we might survive. This building is strong enough to survive a blast, but it all depends . . ." Amanda said, as she stared into the eyes of a man who had lived in her dreams for months.
"Let me bandage your head. You're still bleeding," Anthony said, while reaching into the med kit on his web gear.
"We might die in the next two minutes, and I have to tell you how I feel," Amanda said, as he began cleaning her wound.
"Later, now isn't the time. Let's live through this, and then we can talk," he said, as he discarded the alcohol swab, and placed a bandage over her torn brow.
. . . .
The first thing they felt was a deep shudder, as if the entire earth had shifted on its axis. Next, a deep boom that seemed to wrap them in its intensity, followed by a prolonged rumble that went on and on. Then the building began to vibrate and shake. The lighting in the room went out as the shaking continued.
Tommy's Electronic Dosimeter began to alarm. It was mounted on his company ID Badge right below his TLD. He had completely forgotten about it. He pulled it off and activated the backlight. Someone else turned on a flashlight.
The others stared at him as the alarm and the shaking continued. He removed the ED, silenced the alarm, and switched from dose, to dose rate. He marveled as the number rose to 2 Rem per hour. They were 50 feet below ground, and the dose rate had risen from 0.001 Rem per hour to over 2 Rem per hour, despite all the dirt, concrete and steel.
"What does the alarm mean?" asked a soldier standing nearby, the fear evident in his voice.
"We're safe down here. It just means that the bomb has gone off," Tommy said, as he wept, and began to pray for the soul of his friend.
CHAPTER 59
The White House
The Situation Room
Washington, DC, USA
August 3, 2017
0500 hours EST
"Mr. President, we've received notification that a nuclear detonation has occurred at or near the Harris Nuclear Plant," said Chief of Staff Roger Yost, as he walked into the Situation Room.
"Oh, God . . . so the mission failed? They detonated the bomb in the Fuel Handling Building?" President Miller asked, while rubbing his tired eyes.
"Mr. President, as you know, satellite visibility has been minimal due to thunderstorm activity in the area, but reports prior to the detonation lead us to believe that the weapon was removed from the building prior to detonation. We had comms from the ground forces that they were ordered into the main structures, en masse. They were ordered to abandon their vehicles and flee indoors," said the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Munford.
"Sir, it must have been to shield them. Their commanding officer must have known that the device was about to detonate. He ordered his troops inside to shield them from the blast," said NRC Chairman Carol Wisnicki.
"What about the evacuation of the surrounding area? Casualties? Fallout projections? Will more evacuations be needed?" the President asked.
"Mr. President, the only benefit of this storm front has been the rain and the extended duration of the storm. Our projections show that the fallout will be effectively limited to a narrow plume around 100 miles long and 12 miles wide. Most of the fallout will be washed out of the sky. Of course, the impact on those areas will be magnified, but most of those areas are sparsely populated. The exceptions are Apex, Cary, and large portions of Raleigh, in North Carolina. They were directly upwind from the blast. They'll be uninhabitable for years," the NRC Chairman said.
"Mr. President, we've received confirmation that the blast occurred outside the Fuel Handling Building. We have video from a news helicopter that shows the Harris Plant intact. I repeat, Sir, the major buildings on site are shown to be intact. The video was taken from ten miles away, downwind from the blast, but it shows the plant intact," said the Chief of Staff, as the short video was displayed on one of the large screens.
"The cooling tower is gone. That's a long-term problem," said NRC Chairman Wisnicki.
"You aren't advocating that the plant should ever start back up, are you?" asked Attorney General Delores Bull.
"No, of course not! But Harris was running at the time it was taken over. We have to address two problems. First, keeping that core covered and cooled, or we have the potential for a Three Mile Island type accident where the core melts down. Second, we still have a massive amount of spent fuel in the pools in the Fuel Handling Building that needs constant cooling. We can't just walk away from the plant," Chairman Wisnicki replied.
"As of right now the dose rates on site will make the area unapproachable. It's probably over 1000 Rem per hour. But, within 72 hours, the dose rates will probably be closer to 10-20 Rem per hour. That's still high, but volunteers can work in that environment for short periods of time. We have to reestablish cooling to the reactor core and the spent fuel system, or the problem could get much worse," Chairman Wisnicki said.
"How can things get worse? We just had a foreign power detonate a nuclear bomb on American soil. What are we going to do about that, Mr. President?" asked Vice President O'Quinn.
"One problem at a time," said the President.
"What about my soldiers? When can we evacuate them from the site?" asked General Munford.
"They should be trained to operate in that environment. They're going to have to find places deep in the plant that have the lowest dose rates, and wait it out for a few days. As long as they don't panic, and leave those massive concrete buildings, they'll live through this. After that . . . they'll require medical care of varying levels for the rest of their lives. It will depend on their total exposure and how much radioactive material they have ingested," Chairman Wisnicki said.
"Back to China! Mr. President, we have to respond to this attack. The American people will demand vengeance," the Vice President said.
"Harold, I'm not in the business of vengeance. They will pay for this, but this wasn't a direct attack on the United States by the government of the PRC. You know that. This whole incident was caused by one rogue general," the President said.
"True, but they went along with it. Or have you forgotten your conversation with General Secretary Li, when he tried to blackmail us into leaving Asia and abandoning our allies in the region? Nothing has been done about that," the Vice President said.
"So what do you want, Harold? Do you want me to blow China off the face of the Earth? Is a nuclear war the answer?" the President asked.
"Mr. President, you are now aware of the full
capabilities of the United States military. We don't have to use nuclear weapons to 'de-fang' the Chinese military," the Joint Chief said.
"We just had a nuclear detonation on American soil. Tens of thousands of our fellow citizens are either dead, or going to die within the next few days. The financial markets across the globe are going to go into free fall, starting this morning. Riots will probably break out in every major city in the US. We're going to have to deal with millions of frightened citizens up wind of this blast, and you two want me to go to war with the People's Republic of China?" the President asked, as he stared at every person sitting at the table.
"The problem with China will be addressed, but not today, and not this week. Right now, we take care of our own. Right now, we help the American people recover from this disaster. The full weight of the American military will not fall on China. It will be utilized within our own borders to assist our fellow citizens. Local law enforcement will be overwhelmed in some areas. I may have to declare martial law, but the United States of America will survive this," the President said, while rising from his chair.
"Now. . . it's 0530. I'm going to go get two hours sleep. Then I'm going before the American people at 0800 to reassure them, and the world, that we have survived this terrorist assault on our nation. That is what I'm going to emphasize. This was a terrorist assault . . . not an attack by the People's Republic of China," the President said, as he turned, and left the Situation Room.
Everyone stood as the President and his Secret Service escort left the room. Vice President O'Quinn approached the Chairman of the JCS.
"He's wrong, General. This was an attack by the People's Republic of China. They went along with General Kung's plan when they found out about it. The only reason that we prevailed was the black projects that you boys have been hiding from us for decades," the Vice President said.
HARRIS (Detonation) Page 25
