The Survivors

by Gary Crew

  Era Publications

  220 Grange Road, Flinders Park, SA, 5025 Australia

  Text © Gary Crew, 1999

  Illustration © Steven Woolman, 1999

  Editor, Rodney Martin

  ePub designer, Nathan Kolic

  All rights reserved by the publisher

  eISBN 9781740490696

  Copyright Notice: No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Written by Gary Crew

  Illustrated by Steven Woolman

  Chapter 1

  David and Andrew were always excited at the prospect of a holiday at Old Rusty's farm. To most teenagers a holiday on a goat farm owned by a cranky World War II veteran would seem mega-boring but not to the Dalton boys and especially not on this farm.

  The last long weekend the boys had spent on the farm they had gone exploring in the labyrinth of limestone caves beneath Rusty's land. There they discovered a creature that would make anybody's blood run cold. It was probably an ordinary household cockroach, or so they thought, but of gigantic proportions. The thing had come shambling out of the dark at the back of the cave and, by the light of their candles — and a couple of burning muesli bar wrappers — the boys had seen how big and terrifying it was.

  The creature reared above their flames, spreading its wings. They were at least four metres across — although David, the older of the brothers, reckoned they were six. Its legs were the size of pine saplings. As for its gnashing mandibles . . .

  That sighting had left the boys in awe, but worse was to follow. When they escaped from the cave and set out to return to Rusty's, young Andrew spotted a piece of rag caught on the heel of David's hiking boot. Just as the sight of the monster was frightening, so too was this apparently innocent bit of rag. When they stopped to look, the boys saw it was the pocket of a coat or a shirt. Not that this was a worry, but printed on it was the international symbol of danger — the bright orange, segmented symbol of radiation. Beneath the symbol was a single word, 'Anglesea', the name of the nuclear power station situated about ten kilometres beyond the rugged hills of Rusty's farm.

  How that remnant of clothing came to be there, neither boy could imagine. Certainly Rusty would never wear anything connected to 'new-fangled technology', as he put it. So how did the material get in to the cave? That was where David's boot had picked it up, of that the boys were certain.

  A grotesque life form and a piece of clothing from a nuclear installation in the same place — a limestone cave at that!

  "Weird," was· all Andrew could say.

  "Really weird," David added, never to be outdone by his little brother.

  Chapter 2

  In consideration of their discoveries, the boys made a pact. Firstly, they would not tell anybody what they had seen and found, including Rusty and their parents. Secondly, because they had only two days of their break left after their experience, it was agreed that on their return home they would research the characteristics and history of cockroaches. They would also find out all they could about the Anglesea Power Station.

  The reasons for these decisions were both simple and sensible: if they told Rusty or their parents what they had seen, they would never be allowed to go caving again.

  Besides, as Andrew pointed out, if news of the monster cockroach reached the press, every yahoo in the hills would be around with a gun, determined to kill it. The beast might be hideous, but it was a living thing — maybe even a previously undiscovered life form. ''After all," he explained to this brother, "it's not just cute and cuddly animals like pandas and harp seals people should protect; it's yucky looking ones as well. Like death adders and crocodiles. It's not their fault they're as ugly as Godzilla."

  David agreed, mainly to shut his brother up. He couldn't stand lectures. His personal point of view on their discoveries was that there could be a connection between the power station and the creature.

  "Maybe there's a radiation leak and the thing is a mutant life form," he mused as they jolted home on the bus.

  "Yeah, sure," Andrew giggled, having a low tolerance of David's know-all opinions. "Like a nuclear leak could spread ten ks. Not." But he wasn't so smug once they settled down to their research. David concentrated on the power station angle. He used the net to find his information. Andrew chose to find out all he could about cockroaches.

  His research centred on their town library where his investigations were quickly rewarded. On his first visit he was stunned to find a book called; The Compleat Cockroach: A Comprehensive Guide to the Most Despised and Least Understood Creature on Earth.

  "Cool," he whispered as he took the book to the accession desk. And though he was certain that the librarian thought he was a total geek, he borrowed it and hurried home.

  David was in their room working on the computer when Andy arrived and slumped into the beanbag beside him, eager to read. As soon as he opened the book he was hooked. It was fantastic. He managed to control his enthusiasm for a half an hour before blurting, "Man, this is great. It says here that cockroaches have been around since Palaeozoic Times, the Early Carboniferous Period."

  "Yeah, so what does that mean in plain English, Einstein?"

  "It means that fossilised cockroach wings have been found dating back 340 million years. And there were so many that some palaeontologists have called the epoch 'the Age of Cockroaches'. Wow!"

  "Really," David muttered, as he stared earnestly at the computer screen. He was onto something too. "So they're survivors, heh, Dr Cocky-wing?"

  "Yeah, in more ways than one," Andrew shot back, ignoring the insult. "It says that they can live for weeks without food or water but when they do eat, they can eat anything from boot polish to oil to synthetic fibres. The grubbier the better. Did you hear that? They eat fabric! That's what we found in the cave, heh? And . . ."

  "Did you bring that piece home?"

  "Course. I rolled it up in a sheet of silver foil that I took off a chocolate."

  "So, where is it now?"

  "In with my toy soldiers, the old ones Grandad gave me."

  "With your toy soldiers? Why the . . ."

  "Because it might be radioactive, see? And the toy soldiers are lead which is a barrier against radio-activity. I thought you were the world expert on that nuclear stuff?"

  "I'm trying to be, except you keep interrupting." But deep down he thought, Smart kid . . . though he would never admit it.

  "Yeah, right," Andrew continued. "Since I've already interrupted you, Mr Nuclear-Try-Hard, you should listen to this . . ."

  "What's the use," David sighed and pushed the mouse away in frustration. "Go on . . .”

  "Well, it says that cockroaches could be the last life form on earth. They have this amazing resistance to radiation, see? Experiments prove that test-case cockies have survived radiation levels to 9,600 rads . . ."

  "Don't tell me. A rad is a measure of radiation right? A human will suffer body cell and tissue damage if exposed to material, gas, or fallout measuring 300 rads and over. I just read that the Hiroshima atomic bomb exposed victims to a lethal 1200 rads over a radius of 35 ks from the actual point of detonation. Yeah, so?"

  "So cockroaches can survive nearly 10,000 rads for a month, sometimes more. That's like thirty times more than a human and for much longer too."

  "Interesting," David had to admit, "because I've just been reading about radioactive waste."

  "I'm listening," Andy encouraged, sitting up.r />
  "Well, I've been checking out this nuclear site on the net. It says that there's four types of nuclear waste: high level, transuranic, mill tailings and low-level. The most dangerous waste is high-level. Most of that comes from spent fuels; transuranic waste comes from processing nuclear fuel in the manufacture of nuclear weapons. Mill tailings are the leftovers from mining uranium ore — that's mostly soil and sand . . ."

  "And?"

  "Listen to this: low-level waste is anything that has been exposed to radioactivity in nuclear power stations, or even where radioactivity is used in hospitals to cure people . . . low-level waste includes stuff like tools and equipment and clothing that's discarded. What do you think of that? We found a piece of clothing, didn't we?"

  "So?"

  "So I've already written to the public relations people at the Anglesea station, asking what they do with their radioactive waste."

  "You think there might be a connection between that and the cockroach?"

  David smiled. "Patience, little brother. Patience."

  Chapter 3

  In a matter of days, the information David had asked for arrived. The Anglesea nuclear power station produced only two types of waste: high-level fuel waste and general low-level materials. It was clear from the brochures David received that the station's administrators were eager to reassure people that their radioactive waste was carefully disposed of.

  The high-level waste was sent out of the country to have any remaining fuel extracted. For the past three years, low-level waste had been sealed in lead-lined containers then buried in trenches far from human habitation. This was done as a result of public protest over the previous disposal method of dumping the waste in caves adjacent to the power station.

  "You hear that?" David asked.

  "They were dumping in caves!"

  ''Three years ago,” Andy pointed out.

  "I know. But three years is nothing when you're dealing with radio-active waste. High-level stuff can take tens of thousands of years for the radioactivity to break down."

  "So, the bit of material we found could still be dangerous. David, I touched it!"

  ''Andy, even if it was radioactive, it's still low-level waste and it's not like you were exposed to it for weeks. Anyway, for all we know, that piece of clothing might not have been worn near a radioactive site. That's what we have to find out."

  "How?"

  "The scientist in charge of public relations at Anglesea is called Dr Wendy Forbes. She's the one who sent this info. She seems to be awfully keen to have people visit the station and see for themselves how safe it is. We should take her up on the offer. They run tours of the place on Wednesdays and Saturdays. So guess what we're doing this weekend, bro?"

  Chapter 4

  The boys took a bus to Anglesea and joined a tour group. As they hoped, Dr Forbes was their guide. But no sooner had they set out than Andy began to tug on David's shirt.

  "What?" David demanded angrily.

  "I'm trying to listen."

  "You see her laboratory coat?" Andy whispered. "The pocket is the same as the one we found." David regretted his fit of temper. "You're right. When the tour's finished, we should take the doctor aside. Okay?"

  The tour took two hours. It was very comprehensive although Dr Forbes' main focus was the safety of the plant. When the group finally arrived back at the car park, the doctor asked, ''Are there any questions before you go?"

  Andy stepped forward about to speak, but David yanked him back, hissing in his ear to wait. A few people asked about the advantages of nuclear power over fossil fuels before the group dispersed but the boys remained.

  "Waiting for your parents?" Dr Forbes asked. Andy shook his head as David took control.

  "Dr Forbes . . ." he began.

  "Yes," she asked with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

  "Can you tell us more about the location of the low-level waste — disposal sites that were used before the lead-lined burial system was introduced three years ago?"

  The woman reddened. "Oh that," she said with a dismissive wave. "We've handled all those complaints. There's no danger now."

  "But where were those sites? The caves the waste was buried in?"

  "You've done your homework, haven't you?" she smiled politely although she was obviously far from happy. "Are you working on an assignment for school?"

  "No," Andrew answered firmly. "It's more serious than that. Could you tell us please?"

  "Oh, it was very safely contained in a series of deep caves. There never was any danger but some lobby groups didn't accept that. You know how people are. They get a bee in their bonnet and the press sees a story and exaggerates . . ."

  The boys looked at each other. It was clear that they were being given the run-a-round. They had to play their trump card.

  "Dr Forbes," David began, deliberately using her official title. "The press might be very interested to learn that we have found some of that waste."

  There was a long silence. The doctor turned pale.

  "What do you mean?" she stammered, glancing from one boy to the other. "You're dealing with a serious issue here. What evidence . . .?"

  "Oh, we have the evidence." She looked at him as if he were about to produce a piece of glowing metal from his pocket.

  "Like what? Where did you find it?"

  David smiled. "Dr Forbes, we want to know where you put it? We asked you first."

  "I'm a scientist," she protested. "I don't play games with nuclear waste or with little boys, I'll have you know."

  "This isn't a game Doctor," Andy assured her. "It's awfully serious. David and I know that."

  The woman turned to him. Perhaps there was something in his face — sincerity, or innocence, or even fear — that caused her to relax a little.

  "Do you honestly believe that you have found a deposit of radioactive waste?" she asked quietly.

  "Not a deposit. A piece," Andrew answered.

  ''A piece?"

  "It looks like the pocket of a lab coat. It's exactly like yours, with the radiation symbol on it and 'Anglesea' printed underneath."

  "And where is it now?"

  "We're not answering that until you answer one of our questions," David repeated emphatically. "It's safe, that's all you need to know. But if you don't tell us where those dumps are, we will have to go to the press like those other protesters."

  "You see," Andy managed to get in, "we aren't playing games."

  "Right, bro. Dr Forbes, you have to understand that this isn't just about a bit of low-level waste. It's about a discovery that could rock the entire scientific world."

  The woman looked at the boys quizzically. Finally she shrugged saying, "Either you two are the world's best con artists or you really have found something. You're certainly slick talkers — but for some reason, I believe you. Come into my office. I have copies of the maps showing the old low-level dump sites. You might be able to locate where you found your so-called 'lab-coat pocket' on them ... But you had better not be kidding. You can be fined for that sort of thing."

  "Dr Forbes," David said, "you can be fined too if you don't reveal the locations of nuclear waste sites. That's the law." At this, the doctor led them directly to the station's administration building.

  Chapter 5

  Once in her office, Dr Forbes spread a map on a layout table for the boys to see. It showed the area around the Anglesea station for a radius of about fifty kilometres. The boys pored over it and without much difficulty found Rusty's farm. The hills surrounding it were coloured in red, but not those on the farm itself. In fact, the nearest red zone was two or three kilometres away.

  "What does that red shading mean?" Andrew asked.

  "That's the old low-level dump site area. There are caves down there and the waste was deposited in them, and their entrances were sealed. We don't use that method now, of course."

  David sighed. "The material we found was right here," and he point
ed to Old Rusty's farm. "It's on a property where we spend our holidays. Andrew and I were caving there a week ago and when we came out, what looks like a pocket from an Anglesea lab coat was stuck to my boot. Okay?"

  "No," the Doctor muttered, "it's not okay. It means that somehow the waste has shifted. You're both going to have to be tested for contamination. And that pocket must be returned immediately. In fact . . ."

  She was reaching for the phone when Andrew cried, "Wait. You have to hear the rest of the story . . ."

  "Go on."

  "Well," Andy continued "the reason we got out of the cave was that there was this giant cockroach in there . . .”

  On hearing this, the doctor laughed. Andrew could have cut his tongue out.

  "Good one, Andy," David sneered. "Like, I was leading up to that."

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” his brother answered defensively. “And telling the truth can’t be wrong. That’s what I was told at scouts.”

  Dr Forbes observed his expression carefully as he spoke. “You’re not lying are you?” she whispered, when he had finished. “I don’t know about a giant cockroach but there was something in that cave, wasn’t there?” At this she took Andy’s hands in hers and drew the boy close to her. “Tell me what you saw. Go on. I’m listening this time.”

  Reddening with embarrassment, Andrew tried to pull away but couldn’t; the doctor held him too tightly. Resigned, he began.

  “As soon as we went into the cave we heard movements then later when we burned some papers, we saw this thing come out of the dark.”

  "It wasn't your imagination?"

  "No, it wasn't. I was there too and I saw it. Nor do we think this is the first time this thing has shown up. Last winter something attacked Old Rusty's farmhouse and left a giant wing behind. Honestly. You just have to come and see. We don't want to go to court."