Xandrie, Sue, and Merrit watched from the side. They would dig in when the time was right. In the interim, they considered digesting as their primary mission.
“What a meal, huh?” Sue asked no one in particular.
That’s not what the others wanted to talk about. “What happened to Char? She’s different, now. I mean way different,” Merrit said.
Xandrie scowled. “She exudes confidence and strength. That’s why you see her differently. With Marcus around, you never saw that side of her, but it was always there. I think that hunky Terry guy is good for her.”
Merrit snorted. Sue pursed her lips and nodded. “Exactly.”
“Red eyes? Did you see that shit? Scared the fuck out of me. We ran all the way from Cancun because of a Vamp. It looks like we ran our happy asses right into the arms of another one, except this time, we’ve sworn loyalty to the bastard. Ain’t this a shit sandwich?” Merrit lamented.
“He’s not a Vampire,” Sue said dismissively. “He’s something, but not a Vamp. Do you see how Char seems to glow? I swear, I need to find myself a man just like that.”
“Hey!” Merrit said. “Better not let your real mate hear that. Or are you thinking about taking Char’s way out, too?”
“No. I have no intention of killing Ted, although sometimes, he does ask for it.” Sue laughed. “No. I just want to glow like Char, even if only for a little while.”
“Adams doesn’t make me glow.” Xandrie looked angry. Being with the same mate for eighty years wasn’t always a good thing. She could use a change of scenery and enjoyed looking at the hard bodies of those in the Force. She caught a couple of them looking at her, too. She wondered if she might sneak one away for an hour or two for a little stress relief.
***
“Ready!” Roman called, sounding confident but looking afraid. A few people gave him a thumbs up. The rest waited. He threw the switch, cutting off the electricity leaving the plant. Then the cascade of the shutdown checklist began.
Timmons and Shonna were fully immersed and quickly double-checked items on the list before executing them.
James and Lacy did their parts, which weren’t anywhere near what the engineers were doing. The mechanic waited as the steam stopped driving the turbine. He kept his hand on the case, feeling the beast spin down gradually. His baby was balanced and working like a champ, but when it was open, one rock, one speck of dust could send it off the rails.
The area around the generator had been cleaned, and he had his team from the Force cleaning it again as he waited for the RPMs to die down to zero. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Adams sat by his side, waiting patiently and looking forward to seeing the inside of the equipment, maybe even welding. It had been too long since he last welded.
Clyde was bored out of his mind. A blanket had been tossed in a corner where he was out of the way but could still see what was going on. It took Terry a while to convince the dog that was his spot, but once he figured it out, he curled up and appeared to sleep, even though the noise in the plant was much louder than anything they were used to in their day to day lives. Clyde had eaten enough at the reception that he should have been in a food coma.
“Let’s get to work,” Char said in the eerie silence of the shut-down plant. Terry had been watching Clyde sleep.
“It’s our wedding night and we’re here,” Terry said, rolling up his sleeves.
“It is, and Billy Spires must be thinking the same thing, that this is the place to be.” Terry had his back to the door as Char tipped her chin past him.
Billy waved as he approached. “So, fellow newlywed, the siren’s call of the power plant was too much for you?” Terry called out.
The mayor shrugged, unsure of what Terry meant. “All I know is that I don’t get to stay long. Felicity has something planned, I think.” Billy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Us too, my man! We have a full night right here and then a full day tomorrow and maybe another full night and then so on until the plant is ready to come back to life. We need those freezers running,” Terry said with a serious expression.
“That we do, TH, that we do,” Billy replied. “Can you show me what’s going on?”
“I would love to, Billy,” Char interjected, flicking her hand for Terry to go away. “Terry has to get to work. Our people are looking at him to lead by example.”
When Billy was alone with Char, he faced her and asked his question. “They’re Werewolves, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but the townspeople don’t need to know that, Billy,” Char answered.
“You are the only Werewolf I know, and I don’t have any problem with you. Can I say the same thing for the new folks?” Billy wondered.
“No, because they’re a little different. I’m their alpha. None of them will cross me or they will die,” she said coldly. “They will not be a problem for you.”
Billy couldn’t argue with that. He trusted her and Terry to take care of their business.
“Done. Let’s see what this is about…” Char and Billy headed into the plant. He wondered why she wore her pistols, but then again, she wore them everywhere. He’d also seen Terry without his rifle all day. He’d stored the whip in Billy’s house during the ceremony, but had recovered it before they left the reception. “Where’s Terry’s rifle?”
“At Margie Rose’s house. He said that today was not a day to carry it. He regretted that decision when my old friends showed up, but everything turned out okay, so all’s well that ends well.” Char continued to head toward the generator. The noise level was starting to pick up as the small army of people were putting their tools to good use.
The mechanic tapped the generator twice with a wrench and waved to Lacy. They stood on opposite sides and would loosen bolts in unison, to ensure that they didn’t warp the casing. Two chain falls hung overhead from an I-beam installed in the before time specifically for the purpose of lifting the generator and its heavier components for maintenance. The electric winches had been replaced with the manual lifting system, although these were getting old and already well past their designed service life.
The world was losing what made it great. They didn’t want to lose the generator and the ability to make power.
Cracking nut after nut, the mechanic and Lacy worked their way around the generator’s shell. They seemed like there were more bolts than stars in the sky, but finally, they removed the last ones. Lacy made two passes around it, as did Adams and the mechanic. Three independent checks to make sure it could be lifted off.
“Grab your pushers, people, and be ready. The case must lift straight up. We cannot risk it bumping any of the internal components. In place now. Ready!” The mechanic wiped his brow on the back of his coverall sleeve. With a nod, he and Lacy started pulling the chains. Twenty feet of chain later, they’d lifted the casing one inch. Together, they pulled again, rhythmically like Olympic rowers, and the casing started to sway.
“Pay attention!” the mechanic yelled as the eyebolt his chainfall was attached to started to stretch. “Hold it!” he called as he started to rig a second hook and chain from the first, trying to spread the load. As he was making his final adjustments, the bolt started to squeal its own death.
Adams stepped forward, bracing himself across the turbine shaft and grabbed the casing. If it fell, it would take off all the man’s fingers. But the squealing stopped, because he supported the casing’s weight.
“Quick as you can!” Adams grunted. The mechanic removed the chainfall from the first bolt and hooked it to the alternate attachment point. He finished and cycled the chain hand over hand as fast as he could to pull up the slack, then he tightened it and worked until he’d lifted the casing. It started to sway, but the mechanic put James and two others on the side to keep pressure on it as he and Lacy furiously worked their chains.
When the casing cleared the generator, the mechanic directed the people to move in I-beams to put under it. It took four strong, young people to move ea
ch, but in the end, they lowered the casing onto the supports, freeing them to work safely on the generator underneath.
“Holy shit, Adams! That casing weighs thousands of pounds!” the mechanic exclaimed.
“It didn’t feel like it was over eight thousand to me,” Adams quipped as he slapped the older man on the back. Adams wasn’t even breathing heavily.
“How did you do that?” the mechanic asked. The Force members had suspected before, but now they knew for sure. Adams wasn’t like them and neither were the rest of the newcomers.
“Just a thing. I’ve always been much stronger than I look. Let’s get to it! Steaks are thawing while we stand here jaw-jacking,” Adams suggested. Soon enough, the mechanic, James, Lacy, and Adams were elbow-deep in the generator while the others watched, afraid to move so they wouldn’t kick up dust or anything else that might find its way into the massive, but delicate, piece of machinery.
Billy had watched the whole thing. He realized that he missed television. Watching them work was mesmerizing. He decided to go. He thanked Char and strolled out the door, then broke into a run. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but it was dark. He hoped that it wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Roman and Timmons were deep in a conversation when Terry showed up. He didn’t interrupt. They were letting the pipes cool after they vented the last of the steam. The first pipe that cracked showed extensive buildup of scale on the inside. The first valve they pulled showed the same thing.
The engineer was amazed they were able to close any of the valves, seeing the condition of the one they opened. It made him not want to crack too many other ones.
“We need Merrit,” Timmons said and then started yelling. Terry waved and ran off. Merrit had been digging through some muck they’d scraped from a pipe leading to the turbine. Terry grabbed him while members from third squad continued to swab out the pipe.
Timmons waved at Merrit to hurry, so the Werewolf ran up two flights of stairs, meeting them on a catwalk where they continued to look at piping and valves. “What chemical do we use to break up this crap?”
“Vinegar, of course,” Merrit said and made to leave.
“Well?” Timmons asked. Terry just looked at him. “Do we have any vinegar?”
“I think we do! I wonder how much of it we ate on our salads tonight. No matter. I know who makes it. I’ll hunt them down,” Terry committed before running down the stairs and across the plant floor. As he was headed for the door, Char intercepted him.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To find vinegar so we can break up some of the scale and clean out some of the pipe and the valves,” Terry answered.
“What happened to delegating? There is an awful lot you can do here, but if you go out there, then you’re limited to doing just one thing. Send someone else, Colonel!” Char directed him.
“Major!” Terry blurted out. “Son of a bitch. I should call you Jiminy Cricket.”
Terry turned back to the main floor. It had gotten loud again because of the people working and the sound of metal on metal. “Mark!” he called.
Mark popped out of a group of people and walked quickly to Terry. “Do you know which farmers make vinegar?” Mark nodded. “Get there and convince them to give you all they can spare. As much as possible and you’ll need their help bringing it back here if the quantities are as I hope.”
Mark didn’t waste any time asking questions. He turned and dashed out the door.
“Easy as pie,” Char told him. They went back to work, manually scraping and cleaning everything that the engineers and mechanics pointed to.
***
No one even realized that the sun was well up in the eastern sky until someone mentioned that the oil lamps didn’t need to be burning.
They opened the windows to let the morning breeze in, but it was already hot. The drought was taking its toll on everything. They needed rain to bring back the plants that would help keep moisture in the air.
Terry didn’t feel tired at all. Char had also been a dynamo through the night, along with the rest of the platoon, but they didn’t have nanocytes to help them over the hump. They looked dog tired.
Which reminded Terry that Clyde was nowhere to be seen.
Terry figured that he’d come back after he found himself something to eat for breakfast. Terry thought he may have gone back to the mayor’s house to get into the garbage. Terry decided that he’d better do something.
“Boris and David, head to the mayor’s house and see if you can rustle up some chow for the platoon. I forgot about that little item and you’re going to help me remedy that.”
“But, sir,” Boris started, “Mark had us bring three days’ worth of food. It’s stashed in the back.”
“He did, did he? Well done! None of us is as smart as all of us, right?” Terry replied happily.
They heard Clyde barking outside along with the squeal of ungreased cart wheels riding down the old pavement.
Terry walked out. Clyde was barking at the cart horses, who paid no attention to him. Mark waved from the buckboard where Pepe drove the team. In the back were four barrels.
Mark had come through again.
They wrestled the barrels inside and took them deep within the plant to the bottom of the stairs leading from the boiler. Terry waved the members of the Force away as he took one of the barrels all by himself and carried it to the catwalk. Shonna picked up a barrel, but Terry called her off, unsure of how much weight the catwalk could support. There was more rust on the bolts than he was comfortable with.
They dipped the first valve in and it bubbled and foamed. After a few minutes, Terry pulled the valve out of the pungent mixture and found it easy to scrape off the scale, revealing a mostly intact piece underneath. He yelled at the group below to start working on the other parts and pieces that had been removed and stacked during the night and early morning hours. Vinegar was liberally splashed on the nasty bits and with some chiseling and scraping, they made quick work of the lime scale and other deposits within the system.
Merrit helped them flush the pipes and then clean them using a long metal pole with an augur-like attachment.
The condensers were in the best condition of all. The engineer thought the cooling system had been taxed to breaking but it was the sludge and debris in the first stages of the steam piping that had caused the problems.
Putting everything back together wasn’t too difficult, but Timmons requested that all joints get a weld bead added to ensure system integrity. Consistent steam pressure was better for the turbine. Speeding up and slowing down could damage the system, things that the engineer knew too well.
Adams was a wild man with the weld machine, once he was turned loose. They backed the car into a tight space where they ran it to provide power to the DC inverter. The 110VAC arc welder wasn’t the best for what Adams was welding, but he got after it, completely unperturbed.
And he was a really good welder. He wire-brushed the joints clean, smoothly put the beads in place, trailing them neatly around the pipe, and then added a secondary bead just to be sure.
The detail work within the generator took someone with a more delicate touch than the mechanic was able to manage. He had grown frustrated quickly, so Lacy tried it, without success. Xandrie and Sue asked if they could get a chance. Comparatively, they worked orders of magnitude faster than anyone else and with greater attention to detail. They tightened the wire wrapping where it needed and scanned through every bit and piece of the generator.
They noted imperfections and filed them smooth. And most importantly, they aligned the internal brushes and spacing to ensure optimal electrical generation.
The mechanic had never seen anything like it. In the end, he declared it good and that it was time to button the generator back up. They hadn’t needed Adams to weld anything, which was good, because Timmons had absconded with him, the car, the inverter, and the arc welder.
As the second eveni
ng approached, not twenty-four hours after they started, the group assembled by the turbine and the generator. They gathered the tools to make sure everything was accounted for. Then they reported the injuries. Charlie had taken a nasty tumble from a step stool, but the worst damage was to his pride. Add to that, two black fingernails and one sliced forearm, and Terry considered it a victory. Char did not, but she was more exacting.
Terry considered the body to be a tool, and she considered tools to be tools.
“Light the fires and bring the boilers online!” Roman called out in a superior tone, before he and the mechanic raced off to take care of it. The howl of the gas jets alight was a comforting sound. Ted manually dialed the water flow under the mechanic’s watchful eye. He let the steam and pressure build before opening valves and sending it into the system.
With the shaker flashlights that now had to be shaken the entire time as their small batteries no longer held a charge, Roman, Timmons, and Shonna inspected the piping and valves.
The moment of truth came when the high pressure steam entered the turbine and started it spinning, faster and faster, to ten thousand RPMs, then to thirteen thousand. Ted tightened a couple fittings, set valves, and let the turbine settle at that speed.
The generator hummed to life and the engineer threw the switch.
The lights came on and the assembled group cheered, even Timmons and the rest of the pack. Terry and Char hugged. Clyde ran through the platoon, getting petted as he passed.
And that was that.
“Well, that was kind of anti-climactic,” Char said.
The engineer’s mouth was set. Terry stood next to him and yelled toward his ear, now that the plant was noisy again. “We won’t be able to shut it down again, will we?” he asked.
“No,” he replied. “Next time it shuts down, it won’t come back up, no matter how much we want it to.”
Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series Page 46
