The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (42 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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A far away look passed quickly over her face, then she said,

it

s impossible to imagine this vast area being abandoned. Why, millions of dollars in possessions will be left behind as people flee their homes.


I

m certain many, many residents will not leave,

said the pathologist.

There is no place for them to go, and for a variety of reasons they

ll choose to stay, I think.


But how?

she asked in disbelief.

What will they do for water, for instance?

The little physician repeated what he had been told.

According to the latest decision made, emergency supplies of water and food will be trucked in. Sources of community water that were contained in reservoirs will have to be expelled through the sewers into the ocean. It

s not usable as it is. Refilling the reservoirs will take quite awhile. And until unpolluted, clean water is made available, the citizens who stay must make do with having it hauled in to them.

The impact of lack of water was to be keenly felt for the next several months, not just to the populace who would be forced into a strict, skimpy allotment for the barest of emergency uses, but for commercial and industrial purposes, there would be no clean water available.


Eventually electricity will be restored, I suppose?

asked Sara, recalling the feeble flames of alcohol lamps at Beckman Hospital.


Engineers and crews are being brought in to put the oil-burning plants back into operation,

he replied,

but for a very minimal output. For Los Angeles and these smaller cities to get their feet back on the ground, it is going to take longer than we thought, I

m afraid.

Seevers glanced at his watch a second time.

Sara had grown tired of the conversation. The physician was anxious to be about his gruesome business and she was eager to have an end to the movements and the muffled conversation in Ben

s bedroom.

Hearing the aides finishing their chore, Dr. Seevers took Sara away from her chair and turned her aside so that she would not see the aides as they came by.

The canvas bag, taut from its contents, was borne slowly through the hall, through the front entrance, and into the helicopter.

To him, the chore was completed.

Mrs. Harrington, when you are ready we can depart.


If there is time, I

d like to gather a few items to take along,

said Sara.


Of course,

he replied.

We

ll wait.

Sara started out of the room, then paused and said to him,

By the way, Doctor, there is a man, a body on the rear lawn. He was our gardener. I couldn

t very well leave him here in the house, since he died Tuesday,

she said with detachment.

Perhaps you will want to look at him.

The pathologist accepted her statement without any show of concern.

He has been outside since Tuesday, you say?


Yes. For four days,

she said as she walked out of the room. Summoning his aides, he ordered them to prepare the remaining corpse for removal.

And rush it up,

he added.

As assistants to the pathologist, the two men had often performed unpleasant tasks. But the prospects of bagging a body that had lain in the hot sun for several days promised to be their most repulsive encounter.


Shit,

mumbled the younger member as he strolled across the flagstone patio,

why doesn

t he do it himself if he wants to drag every rotten carcass back with us.

His companion poked him in the ribs,

Hush! You want him to hear you?

he asked, glancing back toward the physician.


I don

t give a damn. When I took this job I didn

t know everything that went with it, so I don

t figure they

re paying me enough for this kind of work,

answered his friend petulantly.


Aw, quit your bitching. Nobody is making you hang onto the job,

replied his companion as they stepped into the yard.


Jeez, lookee there! Somebody rolled the dude up like a mummy!

said the younger man.

Bet he stinks when we get him out of that plastic.

He stared through the wrapping at the corpse.

They cautiously began the process of unwinding the translucent covering, anticipating the moment when a foul odor would escape from the package and soil the air they breathed.


This dude is going to be a mess to get in the bag,

remarked the complainer, cutting the plastic away in layers.

Finally the body was free, its wrappings to the side.


Man, look at that!

exclaimed the youth.

I can

t believe it!


Hey, I

d better call Doc Seevers. He

ll want to see this one before it goes in the sack,

said his companion, rushing off.

Returning with his superior in tow, the two walked directly to the corpse. The doctor dropped to his knees beside the body and began a visual examination of the face, hands, and hair.

This is hard to believe. According to Mrs. Harrington, this man has been out here since Tuesday, but he surely doesn

t seem in any state of decomposition—not at all what you

d expect.


That

s weird, really weird, Doc. He

s in perfect shape, like he could have just died.

The physician, still stooping, gazed thoughtfully at the excellently preserved form.

She said she

d rolled him up in a plastic sheet. Was it tight, boys? Did the sheet fit him snugly?


Like a glove. She really did a job on him. But why didn

t he... decay?

asked the younger man.

I

d have figured him for rotten.
’’


Yeah, I can

t figure that either,

commented the other aide.

I once helped load a guy that had been drowned, and had washed onto a bank. He

d been there about a week when we got the word to pick him up. Wow, I

d never smelled anything like it.

He shuddered at the memory.

He was falling apart when we got to him.

Dr. Seevers stroked his chin as he continued to stare at the corpse.

You know, boys, this is very interesting. Yes indeed. Mrs. Harrington covered him tightly preventing air from freely circulating around the body. That would reduce the rate of growth of decay bacteria. Then, radiation was constantly pouring down into the man, irradiating and killing any decay organisms that ordinarily would have resulted in deterioration of tissues. In essence, the body was preserved by irradiation.


You make it sound like a new method for preserving food,

remarked the young aide.


No, not new. Irradiation of food was used as a means of conserving texture and taste a decade ago. It prevented spoilage successfully, but never did quite catch on as a preservative. I recall seeing pork chops that had been kept unrefrigerated, in paper for several months. They were still fresh enough, yet no one volunteered to cook and eat them.


They wouldn

t have been harmful, would they?

asked the aide.


No, of course not, It

s just that no one in our group wanted to try them out,

he answered shortly.


Well, that guy

s head is not in very good shape. That

s a hell of a bruise over his temple,

noted the other aide.

Drawing closer to the inert form, the physician carefully scrutinized the wound. At last he stepped away and said,

Bag him.

As he turned back toward the house, he called out,

Mrs. Harrington! I'd like to talk to you.

Sara filled a large purse with personal items but paused in her packing when she heard his call from the patio.

Yes, Dr. Seevers?

Her tone verged on haughtiness.


This man, your gardener—his, uh, remains are in superb condition, Mrs. Harrington. Much, much better than we had expected.

Since the woman offered no comment, the doctor elaborated further.

You did a splendid job in covering him, a splendid job,

he said, watching her carefully.


Should I say that I am pleased, Doctor?

Her flippancy had surprised the doctor somewhat, causing uncertainty as to how the issue should be discussed. After all, the woman had undergone great mental stress, and yet had managed to show real composure in arriving at the decision to donate her husband

s body for medical exploration. Insistence on her clarification of the method of the gardener

s death could prove to be inhumanly cruel in light of her earlier traumas.


I hardly know where to begin,

he stammered.

I....


You are concerned over how the man died, is that correct?


Yes. That bruise on the side of his head, it seems....

Again she interrupted him.

Perhaps I

d better explain, Dr. Seevers. You see, last Tuesday, things became hectic for those of us living close to White Water. By evening, the word had thoroughly circulated about the dangers. Presumably, those who had decided to stay on rather than run, were fairly panic-struck. Looting and stealing had already begun and I....well, I naturally thought Ben was dead,

she said softly.

It was nearly dusk when the gardener burst into the house and began throwing my silver and jewels into a bag—a total shock to me.


He had worked for you some time, Mrs. Harrington?

asked the pathologist.


Yes. Several years.

She paused in her narration to reconstruct the actual events, then continued,

Anyway, when I discovered the thief, I tried to stop him. He became abusive, then threatened my life. He was reaching for a tool from the fireplace at the exact moment that poor Ben miraculously staggered into the house.

Once more she paused.

You can imagine my surprise to see my husband, Doctor. He was in dreadful shape, but alive. Seeing the gardener threatening me with the tool infuriated him and he...

she hesitated,

well, he...


He killed the gardener, Mrs. Harrington?

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