The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (41 page)

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Authors: Barbara C. Griffin Billig,Bett Pohnka

BOOK: The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival)
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Cecil looked at the gray hair and the worn wrinkled features of the elderly woman.

She

s at peace,

he said softly. Aware of the sobs, he dragged the chair over and waited until the daughter collapsed into it.

Unintelligible mutterings still came from the man on the floor. Returning to Carter, Cecil took an ankle in each hand and began pulling toward the open door. His tug at the ankles pulled the body straight, and a short gasp left the man—the very last sound that Carter made.

Althea had covered her mother with the sheet and was waiting when the chemist returned. Her tears had not quite dried, but her composure was regained.

Is he dead?

she asked.


Yes,

he answered.

I removed him to the yard.

Suddenly he seemed uncomfortable in the small bedroom.

Are you ready to leave?

he asked, avoiding her eyes.

She hesitated.

I don

t want to leave my parents here. My father is dead, too; he

s in the garden. What can I do for them?

asked the woman with concern.


You

re our first consideration,

said Cecil.

The government has established recuperation spas throughout the state. Everyone who is willing, will be sent to one. But before that, you ought to be examined by a doctor.

She was now a haggard, trembling, emaciated woman whose fine, dark features were accentuated by her gauntness. But despite her thinness and the pain, and fear that even yet showed in her eyes, the beauty of the woman was readily noticeable to Cecil.


No, I can

t abandon my mother and father. I couldn

t rest at all, not knowing what was being done for them,

she said.


Don

t worry. I

ll take care of them for you,

he promised.

I

ll make certain that they

re decently buried and the sites marked. When you return, if you decide to, you

ll know exactly where to find them.

Althea searched his face. Then hesitantly she took a step. Moving on the spongy pustules encrusting her feet caused both limbs to become aching, throbbing clubs. She reached out to Cecil. He slid his arm around her waist, and suspended hers over his shoulder. In this manner, Althea was gently led to the encampment of the medical unit.
 

Nearly sixty miles south of Log Angeles, in an unincorporated area, the Harrington home sat on a large plot of land, commanding a sweeping view of the ocean. It was a setting from which Ben and Sara had often drawn peace together.

Sara admitted the men into the living room with just a hint of formality, stopping short of inviting them to be seated. Their rapid arrival had been unforeseen, and Sara was slightly discomfited by her unkempt appearance before them. Educated in Europe, and prepped for a life as a gracious lady, she had deeply rooted ideas as to how one coped with problems; appearances were important. A well bred, cultured person always presented a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. And here, she had been momentarily caught off guard.

One of the men, sensing her discomfiture, got right to the point.

Mrs. Harrington, since your husband was at the reactor when the accident occurred, I believe his, uh, his body would be of special interest. I hope you don

t mind, but I

ve requested that the chief pathologist be here for Mr. Harrington

s removal.

Sara, though wondering about the significance of what he

d said, raised no objection. She sat down with the two men, sensing some semblance of order returning to her life; the nightmare was now drawing to a close. They talked, politely avoiding further mention of Ben

s body, as they awaited the arrival of the medical examiner.

Admiration was plainly obvious in the men as they observed Sara

s controlled efforts after the long, arduous ordeal. She was dead tired, hungry, and thirsty. Small aches dully throbbed in her body. She was disheveled and grimy after the past four days. Her husband was dead in a room down the hall. Nevertheless, she calmly and with preciseness for detail, recounted the events of the accident, as described by Ben, and the horrors that followed. She talked without interruption for almost an hour.

A whirring of blades informed them of the medical examiner

s arrival. Shortly, the chief pathologist stepped into the room, his hand extended.

Mrs. Harrington, I

m Dr. Elrod Seevers from the Surgeon General

s staff. I

m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.

He was a balding, short man, wearing black horn rimmed glasses.

Your husband was a supervisor at White Water, I

ve been told,

he said in his rapid-fire speech.

Sara nodded in assent, wondering what action he planned.

The pathologist aggressively pushed ahead with his idea.

While you may consider this an indelicate suggestion, it is my opinion that your husband

s remains would be invaluable to medical research, Mrs. Harrington.

She stared at him, as one might who viewed a poisonous snake from the other side of a glass partition. She hadn

t realized that such a request would be made of her. With a quick flash of anger, she said,

Dr. Seevers, your proposal is contemptible—an insult to Benjamin Harrington

s memory. The man gave his life for his work. It

s too much to expect that his body would be a contribution to science in addition.

Her unruffled composure belied her simmering interior and caught the pathologist unaware. He had anticipated her immediate compliance.

I apologize to you,

he said quickly.

However, there is great likelihood that the course of this nation

s future and its reliance on nuclear energy for peacetime uses may be decided from this recent catastrophe. Any information gleaned from this terrible tragedy must be weighed with regard to the best interests of the American people.

He spoke in haste, as though there were much to be done, and this was only one of many tasks facing him, that Ben

s was only one of many bodies to claim.

He paused to allow his statements time to be mentally digested before continuing.

Naturally, no one desires to pressure you into granting us the medical use of his body against your wishes. The decision is entirely yours to make,

he stated.

A silence followed as Sara considered his arguments.

Two aides entered the room, carrying a stretcher on which rested a long, empty canvas bag. They hesitated, uncertain, then moved out into the hall until their superior was ready to issue instructions, to tell them to take the body or leave it.


Where would he be taken—out of state, I presume?

asked Sara at last.


Oh yes, to Washington, D.C.

He hastened to explain,

The condition of his tissues after all his exposure to the radiation could tell us much about the sort of damage done, and thereby, perhaps, lead us to devise medications and treatments to allay such effects,

he remarked as he glanced at the watch on his wrist.

Thus far, we have nothing to combat radiation sickness.

Sara wasn

t to be rushed into making a hasty decision, however.

Wouldn

t you think that a more acceptable method than dealing with the effects of radiation would be to simply prevent those facilities from producing radiation—from being developed—in the first place, Doctor?

she asked in a biting voice.


Yes. Yes,

he agreed readily.

But I am only a man of medicine, Mrs. Harrington. I

m not politically motivated. Such things as safeguards for nuclear reactors is not my concern.

He hesitated, seemingly reluctant to spend more valuable time in discussion with the woman. He glanced at the aides waiting in the hall, then back to Sara.

My concern is with locating the proper subjects to provide a basis for research.

It was a cold, hard statement that he

d made, speaking of the victims of White Water as though they were so many research animals. To be studied, autopsied, and converted into statistics. With revulsion Sara thought of Ben

s final importance divulged in the tale told by his poor, mangled tissues. A wave of nausea spread through her, and was rapidly fought down.

Isn

t it interesting, Doctor,

she asked,

that until Tuesday, this sort of accident had been declared an impossibility?

Peering through his thick lenses, he observed the woman sitting across from him. He considered the question momentarily, then finally remarked,

Shall we say that what was formerly impossible, has happened? And now the question in most minds is exactly what kinds of damages have been done.

Sara thoughtfully tugged at a rent in her dress.

You seem to be a very busy man, Dr. Seevers.

He removed his glasses and dried the perspiration on the frame.

Yes, there is much to be done,

he replied as he replaced the spectacles.


Then I will not take more of your time, Doctor. You may take Ben

s body with you.

Seevers showed no surprise at her decision. Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, he said,

Thank you, Mrs. Harrington. Yours is a compassionate and noble gesture, one of which I

m sure your husband would approve.

After a slight hesitation, he added,

There is no reason why you could not have services for Mr. Harrington before assigning him to us.


Yes, I

d like that,

said Sara.

We are from the east coast originally and we have relatives there. Yes, we

ll have a private service for Ben back in Connecticut,

she said at last.


In that case I will arrange transportation for both you and your husband,

said the pathologist.

His habit of referring to Ben as though he still lived was annoying to her, but she was reconciled to placing both of them in the doctor

s seemingly capable hands for the present.

Are there papers that I must sign declaring my permission has been granted,

she asked.

Dr. Seevers nodded,

Yes, but they need not be dealt with today. There is time enough for that, Mrs. Harrington.

He flicked his hand to the aides; they, in turn, moved quietly into the bedroom to begin their grisly chore.

Ben

s death was forever in her thoughts, but now there were other considerations.

Dr. Seevers, what sort of protection has been established for our homes and belongings that we are leaving behind?

Not that she had any intention of staying, but she hated to think that the beautiful house with its collection from six years of marriage would be looted and stripped.

With calming reassurances, he replied,

Sentries will be posted throughout the whole sector, I

m told. Military personnel will be designated to guard against the unlawful taking and destruction of property. Mrs. Harrington, you needn

t worry.

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