Forecast (13 page)

“Look!” shouted Hennessey. “Over there!”

Following her finger to another spot on the European continent, the crew saw a swelling ball of cloud. The speed in which it rose astounded them all, but not nearly as much as the immense glare of light that appeared further away to the east. The crack of light from a magnitude so powerful seemed to light up the whole continent for several long seconds and a mound of cloud climbed in the updraft in a rapid wave of transformation.

“Don’t tell me that was one of those meteoroids you were talking about, Jen?” Matthews said.

Hennessey, based on her understanding, had a much scarier thought. “I think Europe has just been hit with nuclear bombs.”

A dreadful silence ensued.

Sutcliffe felt his stomach muscles tense up. For a moment, he thought he’d misheard the American, at least he hoped he had. Then again, it did explain one thing. Forty five minutes earlier, Mike Townsend had radioed through with an urgent message:
You need to abort the mission and get back here right away. Something’s happening
… That was it. Townsend had been cut off before he could finish the sentence. Now it made some sense. Townsend’s words hung in the air.
Something’s happening
.

“Impossible,” Matthews retorted. “It’s probably just the French doing nuclear tests like they did back in 1996. They’d be controlled explosions.”

The first explosion had created an enormous ball of dust and cloud, which had grown to a staggering height and had stabilised, although it did appear to continue spreading laterally. Further south on the European continent, another searing glare of chemical light appeared. Out of the light, a thick trunk emerged, broad sheets of fire blazing from it as it rose, splitting into branches at the top. It was followed by four more similar explosions.

Burch, too shocked by the immensity of what was happening, urinated in his diaper collection device. “Europe is under attack?”

Faraday’s voice quivered. “Who though?”

“The Russians maybe?” Sutcliffe suggested. “I don’t know.”

The same assumption had occurred to Hennessey. Just the year before, the Russian President had threatened to aim nuclear missiles at European cities for the first time since the Cold War and the former Soviet Union possessed more than four thousand nuclear warheads at some six hundred and sixty launch installations. True though that might have been, finger pointing did not alter the fact that Europe was being attacked.

“But why would the Russians want to bomb Europe?” asked Burch.

“No idea,” Matthews replied.

“Perhaps it was a mistake.”

“Yeah, somebody accidentally pushed a button and set off a load of nuclear missiles. Get a life, Keith.”

Sutcliffe vehemently cut in. “Whether it was an accident or deliberate, it’s happening.”
Something’s happening
. “You heard what Mike said. Our priority right now is to abort this mission and get home. God only knows how the wind currents will be affected by this.”

Faraday was stunned. Matthews and Sutcliffe were debating over what to do, but she couldn’t hear their jabber. She had lost touch with the moment. Confusion and panic seemed to vibrate all around her, right through her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the swelling clouds where more blinding white flashes materialised, marking the spot of unimaginable carnage.

Britain hadn’t been hit. No, it had. Brownish yellow smoke rose from their country in two separate locations. Both canopies were red and the country gradually disappeared under spreading plumes of thick colourful smoke.

A few nerve-racking minutes passed whilst Sutcliffe tried continuously to re-establish radio contact with Mission Control. “Mike, pick up.”

Nothing.

“Mike, this is Brad. Pick up. Fuck!”

In the distance, the Akroid balloon drifted further and further away and the neglected solar
-
wing camera had flown out of radio controlled range and out of sight. The screen on her controller showed black and white scraggily lines and she let it slip out of her hand onto the platform. She had been watching all of it unfold. She couldn’t take any more. She closed her eyes in an attempt to dis-connect her thoughts, though that only made her breathing more rapid and a grey fog engulfed the edge of her vision. She drew in a deep lungful of oxygen to combat the panic attack she realised she was having.

“You alright, Claris?” Sutcliffe said.

“Yeah,” she replied. She took in deep breaths to pep her up. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

As though contagion passed through sound, Burch started to have respiratory problems. His lungs began to constrict and some inarticulate words came from his mouth, interrupted by his laboured breathing. It sounded as though he was having a seizure. He mentioned that he was seeing aurora lights, though Hennessey was quick to point out that it was a sign of severe, atmospheric stress.

Like firecrackers, more white lights glared through the dense smoke and more giant spheres of fire rose majestically over Europe and Britain. Hennessey estimated the canopy of the first two mush-room clouds at somewhere between two hundred to three hundred miles across and the height to which they’d reached seemed on par with their space balloon. Now she feared for the safety of her own country. America’s involvement was inevitable.

“Do you think someone is trying to wipe out the human race?” she suggested.

Something’s happening
, Sutcliffe heard the words in his head again. “I just…I don’t know.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to make out Europe amongst the featureless radioactive clouds. Below them, also, the toroid
-
shaped canopies of the bombs on Britain had risen to within a few thousand feet of the gondola. Swirling masses of smoke and dust from millions of tons of excavated earth seemed to torment them. Far off, the Akroid balloon was being twirled around by the whooshing smoke and disturbed air. Then it ripped the balloon apart and the mushroom clouds devoured the cosmic dust collector.

Sutcliffe fell morbidly silent, his mind generating gruesome images of their world. He imagined the devastation at the epicentre of the astronomical explosions, picturing buildings flying apart as though they were made of paper, like wind passing through dead leaves. Those who survived the blasts, he dwelled, now faced the excruciating heat, the radiation, the starvation, the suffering to come. He remembered the books he had read about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Contemporary atom bombs were a thousand times more powerful and destructive than those used on Japan.

A tear formed in the corner of his eye. Martin, his only son…

Trying to remain strong, unconvinced that it was the end of humankind, the destruction of his country and the people he loved, Sutcliffe tried to make some decisions. “If we return now, the chances are we’ll be caught up in the crossfire. And you saw what just happened to the Akroid balloon.”

Matthews disagreed. “What do you suggest? That we just stay here, floating about in space until the dust settles?”

“If we descend now, the balloon will be torn apart and we’ll all die.”

Matthews peered over the edge of the gondola. Britain had disappeared beneath the atomic cloud. “How long?”

Sutcliffe looked at his oxygen gauge. Eighty percent of his first tank had been consumed. Radioactive fission particles from the bombs would have already contaminated the skies below. “We all have roughly twenty percent oxygen remaining, right? That buys us about an hour, maybe a bit more, on this tank. Plus we have the second tank in our life support backpacks and the secondary emergency tank with an additional thirty minutes. That’s about another nine hours in total. And don’t forget we have two spare oxygen tanks each onboard. So we still have approximately twenty three hours of oxygen remaining.”

“You’re joking right?” Matthews said back. “We can’t stay up here for twenty three hours.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. We have enough oxygen for the time being. I think we should wait for a few hours and see what happens. It’s the safest option.”

“See what happens? Europe’s been bombed. That’s what has fucking happened!”

Conflicted, Sutcliffe snapped. “Simon, listen to me. All I’m saying is the prudent thing to do right now is wait. Then we can start making some coherent decisions. Get off my back, will you?”

Burch managed to pull himself together, overcoming his breathing deficiency. He began hitting his navigation monitor again and again in an attempt to restore power, anything to keep his mind off the explosions below. Rage and self
-
reproach took control of him and he felt responsible for getting the electrics back up, beating the computer with his fists to a pulp.

“You’re wasting your time, Keith,” Hennessey said. “It won’t work. That was an electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear bombs we experienced. The EMP would have frazzled anything with a circuit board, basically anything electrical. The equipment is useless now.”

She paused for a moment before continuing. “Listen, everyone, Brad is right. We shouldn’t return yet. From the mushroom clouds, the larger bits of matter fall back to Earth within a few minutes. The smaller bits of fallout borne downwind by the bomb clouds fall within several hours. But the deadly microscopic particles and invisible radioactive particles stay aloft for months or years and circle the world, some even for eternity. That means the radioactive particles may fall all over the world, contaminating farm crops and oceans. In a few hours, the mushroom clouds will thin out and we may be able to descend safely. But whatever happens, the air down there is unbreathable right now.”

“How do you know so much about nuclear fallout?” Matthews questioned.

“NASA is pretty thorough.”

Matthews didn’t say anything. Nothing could have prepared the crew for such a sense of violation. Their hearts sank knowing that everything they had dared and seen and risked and achieved had been worthless, though the deaths of the millions of people caught up in the explosions took precedence over all else. Sutcliffe let out a disheartened sigh. The day which had begun with such promise had ended in the worst imaginable disaster.

“What’s happening?” Faraday yelled.

The balloon had suddenly dropped several feet. When it finally stabilised, it went into a violent spin.

“It must be disturbed zonal and meridional wind currents from the bombs,” said Hennessey, holding onto the bar.

Sutcliffe nervously looked up at the large ropes attached to the envelope. If they split, the gondola would fall like deadweight and the gondola’s emergency parachutes might become entangled with the severed ropes. Unsure whether or not the alkaline batteries had been affected by the EMP shockwaves, he prayed the emergency locator beacon at the base of the gondola still worked. If they were to fall, the beacon could be tracked by ground technicians, if they were still available. With water pouches low and no food, Mission Control no longer in contact and oxygen continuing to drain, he felt they had no choice but to descend back to Earth. The explosions had ceased and the mass of smoke beneath them had discoloured and scattered somewhat.

“I don’t think the envelope will hold much longer,” he told the crew. “Let’s go back.”

“Finally,” Matthews remarked.

“How long will the descent take?” said Hennessey.

“About the same time it took to get up here, five to six hours.”

“Do you think it will hold that long?”

“I don’t know. Simon, can you valve off the helium?”

“Sure.”

Matthews opened the balloon vents and dispelled the helium. It took a few minutes for the balloon to respond, though without their instruments they couldn’t confirm how fast they were descending, if at all, until the hurricane
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like clouds began to grow nearer. The gondola had stopped revolving, but the balloon hit more turbulence. The crew took hold of the bars until the balloon stabilised again. Burch had designed the balloon using a translucent, polyethylene material with special additives aimed at strengthening performance in high altitude temperatures. High turbulent winds hadn’t been factored into the design because the entire flight had been based on a calm weather forecast. Had the weather been windy, the flight would have been postponed. It had him deeply concerned.

The balloon continued downward and the first real definitions of the radioactive clouds became apparent. Ash and nuclear mud swirled about in the wind and Sutcliffe further doubted the might of the envelope. Around them, it’d turned eerily dark and volcanic
-
like ash bombarded the balloon, showering the crew with disintegrated homeland.

The torment dragged on and on.

The balloon pitched so violently they could feel the force in their stomachs. The platform swung left and right, banking sharply with each lethal shudder, rattling and shaking. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

“I can’t bear this!” screamed Faraday.

Sutcliffe realised that if they didn’t get out of the destructive cloud soon, they would be gobbled up in the alien atmosphere. “Simon, close the helium valves and drop ballast, right away.”

Matthews opened the ballast tanks and several kilos of sand gushed from the gondola. It didn’t seem to have much of an effect. Sutcliffe unscrewed the reserve batteries weighing fourteen kilos and dropped them over the side, followed by the altimeter. Burch disconnected the navigational computer and threw that overboard. Finally, the balloon began to slowly rise, the helium pulling them skyward again. Eventually, the balloon popped out of the cloud and rose away from it.