The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) Read online

  THE NUCLEAR CATASTOPHE

  by:

  Barbara C. Griffin Billig

  Dedicated to:

  Edward Billig, for all his love and support

  In Memoriam: Bett Pohnka

  3rd Edition

  INTRODUCTION

  Radiation – you can't see it, you can't hear it, you can't feel it – until it's too late. But what if you thought more than the normal amount was out there? What would you do? Where would you go? This fiction novel is about what could NEVER happen. But what if it did?

  Set in Southern California, this is the story a nuclear power plant that is affected by an earthquake. The book follows the paths of different characters who each choose different solutions to deal with the problems that then arise. This book brings home the reality of what would or could happen. No one can be so arrogant as to believe it might NEVER happen. History has shown us time after time that........what can go wrong.................. will go wrong.

  Staying out unprotected in the sun too long produces a painful sunburn. Sun rays can only penetrate and irritate the outer layers of skin. Nuclear radiation byproducts can travel through thick layers of concrete. When they pass through the body, each particle acts like a bullet as it penetrates through the body cells, damaging and killing those cells.

  The building blocks of our world are atoms. Some atoms are constantly breaking down, releasing particles and rays. Put those radioactive atomic substances together in the right configuration and they create such heat and energy from the decay process that an ATOMIC BOMB is generated. A nuclear power plant is built to control the speed of the decay processes and the heat generated from the processes – until something goes wrong.

  Read what these fictional characters experienced and the choices that they made – and be better ready to make your own choices.

  As of January, 2011, there are 442 nuclear power plants operating or under construction in the world. The United States has 104 of these plants, France has 58, and Japan has 54. (1)

  (1) European Nuclear Society web site home page. www.euronuclear.org

  Chapter One

  The crisp sheet of parchment fell from his fingers to the top of the polished desk, the letterhead standing out like a flag against the white background. Ben Harrington knotted his fist and slowly, rhythmically, brought it down on the letter. The Southern California Society of Environmentalists was a loud, outspoken body of malcontents. It was more and more vocal on any issue that even remotely pertained to the environment, and its protests were being heard. Now he was beginning to worry. The unanswered question in his mind was whether the Society’s protests had set something else off - like causing the confab with the politicians this afternoon. If so, he wanted to make sure of what he could do about it.

  Ben reached across to the intercom and punched a button.

  Without waiting to hear who would answer, he ordered, “Mike, get in here!”

  In agitation he shoved his chair back, rose to his feet and paced back and forth behind the desk while he waited for Mike Percy. This kind of thing spoiled his day. In his precise, meticulous manner, he had maintained White Water as a smoothly functioning electric utility plant. He kept himself on his toes, and he expected nothing less from his subordinates. When there was a goof it was because someone was careless, and carelessness couldn’t be tolerated.

  The knock at the door was immediately followed by the entrance of the big, affable assistant supervisor. Mike wore his usual wide grin, the disarming smile that stretched completely across his face and was illuminated by large innocent eyes. His features belied his actual age. “Hello, Ben. What’s up?”

  Ben’s private thoughts were momentarily checked by the appearance of this mild, good-natured man. He hadn’t wanted Mike for the position of second-in-command, but his choice had been by-passed—over-ruled in fact—out of deference to the wishes of someone on the company’s board. Indeed, Ben had always considered Mike the least competent of the two men who worked the control room with him, a point that had been clearly made on the last personnel evaluation form submitted on the employees. He shoved the letter over to Mike. “Read it.”

  After a moment, Mike looked up, his expression now one of concern. “I don’t get it, Ben. They wouldn’t do anything like that, would they?”

  A conscious snort of air escaped Ben’s nostrils, a sign of his annoyance. “Of course they would! They’ve just been waiting to catch us on something, and now, thanks to you, it looks like they’ve got what they want.”

  Mike glanced down at the sheet once more. “This is ridiculous—it’s pure harassment to start an action like this.”

  Ben clenched his fist, getting satisfaction from the feel of the muscles tightening into a ball of bone and gristle. He was going to get Mike straightened out once and for all, he decided. If the letter had come a day later he wouldn’t have been alerted to prepare for this afternoon. One screw-up leads to another.

  “They’ve been aching for this,” he said angrily to Mike. “All this time those busy-bodies have had their noses stuck into this facility out here. Well, now they’ve got an excuse to sound off!” He stared hostilely at Mike.

  Aware of his boss’s wrath, Mike dropped the letter on the desk and shrank back. “Ben, I know what you’re thinking, but I swear to God, it slipped my mind. It just slipped my mind.”

  “That’s no damn excuse, Mike! You’ve got a responsible position. You can’t let matters slide just because you’ve got other things to think about. I told you over six weeks ago to get that report filed!’’

  The reprimand was sobering to Mike. He replied humbly, “It didn’t seem very important at the time. I kept putting it off until I completely forgot about it.” Shrugging, he continued, “A report to be filed at the county library—good grief, what’s so important about that?”

  “The Southern California Society of Environmentalists thinks it is and that’s sufficient. They probably had someone especially assigned to read that report,” he said, eyes still flashing anger.

  “There couldn’t be a thing in it that would interest them, Ben. A propeller blade broke on one of the turbines and we had to shut down for a couple weeks. So what?”

  Ben leaned toward Mike and snapped, “So we are obligated to file a report in a public office on every single incident out here that results in the reactor in this plant being out of operation. That is a safety report that must be presented under state law, Mike! It’s not for us to decide whether we’ll do it or not.” Ben softened his tone. “Look, Mike, I’m trying to be fair about this. It’s not something I’d be any less rough on myself for. You think it’s not important, but we’re in a business where there’s no room for error.”

  “It was such a minor problem, Ben,” objected Mike. “The....”

  “We were out of action for sixteen days!” Ben interrupted, exasperated. “Sure, you and I know it was minor, but the public has to be informed. That’s why S.C.S.E. is sniffing around. They want to catch us doing something wrong!”

  Mike shook his head worriedly. “But we didn’t file a report when our stack emissions exceeded the maximum level.”

  “Hell no,” snapped Ben. “We simply cut back production until we got the emissions under control, which we did within a day or so, if you remember. Nobody knew we were running a little high except for you, me, and Des Anderson. But when the operation comes to a halt, everyone knows about it, and I can promise you that when we don’t tell them why, we’re going to be getting this kind of flak,” he retorted, and thumped his fingers on the letter.

  Mike fr
owned, “They won’t sue, will they!”

  “Sure they will,” Ben answered heatedly. “There’s nothing for them to lose by stirring up a legal mess with the company. This group has been itching to get us into court for a long time. It’ll get them a lot of publicity—which is exactly what they want.”

  “But a law suit?. That’s going pretty far,” Mike protested. “Look, Ben, I don’t think they’re serious about a lawsuit, but since they seem intent on making trouble, I’ll get that report ready this morning and send it right out.”

  Ben waved the suggestion aside. “No! They sent a copy of this letter to the president of the board and it’s my guess that they’re already working on legal action. Do the report, but you email a copy to everyone and take the original to the library yourself, Mike. I want to be certain it gets there.” As an afterthought he added, “Make a copy and send one by messenger to the S.C.S.E. headquarters.”

  Mike grumbled to himself, then spoke outright. “I don’t think they ought to get away with these high-pressure tactics they’re using, Ben. Giving them their own personal copy of the report sets a bad precedent.”

  “Listen,” said Ben, “it’s not your butt that’s going to be in hot water with the board. It’s mine! Since you screwed it up, you can get it straightened out! But I want it done today! I’ve got a group of company executives coming here with two big-wig politicians after lunch. You make sure that report is on my desk before they arrive, Mike!”

  Mike stepped back at the onslaught of words. “All right, Ben. All right. I just didn’t think that filing that document would be so important. I....well, paper work isn’t....”

  Ben interrupted, “I don’t like the desk job, either,” then hesitated over that comment which was absolutely untrue. He did enjoy the administrative end of the power facility. “But these things have to be done.” What had seemed an almost insignificantly simple task for Mike had become a blunder that could set reverberations sounding all along the company’s chain of command.

  Humbled, Mike said, “Maybe they’ll ease off when they get the report.”

  “Yes, if we’re lucky. Meanwhile, I’m left to face this myself when the board reads that letter. And on top of that, there’s that bunch coming in today—the last thing I need is a couple of senators snooping around the plant,” said Ben wearily.

  With a feeble attempt at reassurance, Mike replied, “At least the subject of this report won’t be brought up by anyone from the company. And I don’t see how the senators could know anything about this complaint of S.C.S.E.”

  The muscle at the angle of Ben’s jaw popped out as he stared at his colleague. Most of the statements he wanted to make to Mike were left unsaid as he listened to the other’s appraisal of the situation. Unable to do more, he nodded and said, “Just do the report, Mike. I’ll handle whatever develops here this afternoon.”

  Mike knew he was being dismissed and turned toward the door.

  “By noon,” Ben reminded him as he stepped outside.

  Up the walk they came. Seven men, dressed in conservative business suits, and led by J. Rufus Pettengill, vice-president.

  Ben watched them as they reached the bottom steps. Then he checked his tie once more, nudging it securely under his collar, straightened the lapels on his fresh white lab coat, and marched through the door to greet them.

  His superior of West State Utility Company, Mr. Pettengill, made the introductions with a flourish of complimentary remarks which he grandly bestowed on his plant supervisor’s head.

  When at last it was Ben’s turn to talk, he spoke distinctly and with clarity, with not a hint of nervousness that had plagued him during his long wait for their arrival.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to White Water Nuclear Power Facility. We are honored to have you here. It is a rare day when we have the opportunity to welcome two distinguished United States Senators.” He nodded in the direction of two of the men. “Senator McCauley. Senator Jackson. And we are always pleased to have officers from our plant on the grounds.” Pausing, he nervously touched his tie.

  He looked over the faces before him, then continued with his speech. “White Water is recognized as a model facility for the generation of electric power from nuclear fissioning processes. We are most anxious to grant your request of a tour through our plant; thus within the next few hours you will have a first-hand observation of the most technologically perfect system to replace the antiquated fossil fuel electric generators. As we guide you through these buildings, we hope to answer any and all questions you may have regarding not only this facility but nuclear installations in general.”

  He paused to catch his breath, then noticed that the short, lively Senator McCauley had begun to gaze about, as though he had lost interest in Ben’s comments. Suddenly, the realization hit him that in being overly zealous, he had kept everyone standing on the steps.

  “Since we are outside, perhaps we should begin with a walk around the external plant,” Ben said quickly. “From the freeway, the most noticeable structure is the huge dome-shaped building behind us.”

  “Is that where the reactor is?” asked the junior senator, Jackson in a slightly high-pitched voice.

  “Yes, it is, sir, along with a variety of coolant pumps, a steam- electric generator, and a few other things.”

  Although Benjamin Harrington, Ph.D., took great pride in being well versed in the subject of nuclear energy, he hoped the questions would not be too inane, or too disruptive to his discourse. While it was nice to invite their questions, ill-timed ones became a nuisance, often causing him to break his chain of thought.

  “That pipe going up the side of the dome, the one that looks like a smoke stack, what’s it used for?” asked McCauley.

  “We call that a primary vent stack,” answered Ben.

  “Yes. And what comes out of it, Dr. Harrington?”

  Ben cleared his throat, hoping to avoid a lengthy explanation. “When the reactor is in operation, there are radioactive wastes that form as by-products. Many of those wastes are in the gaseous state, and as such, are eliminated through the vent stack.” There, he thought, that should be clear, senator.

  “Radiation goes out that stack into the atmosphere?” asked the senator.

  To Ben, the man’s question, although innocuous, seemed to somehow convey a hidden implication. “Well yes, Senator. You surely are aware that this is a standard practice throughout all such plants. Of course,” he hastened to add, “we keep our emission levels within the guidelines established by the Radiation Emission Council.”

  The senator looked at Ben carefully. “Have you ever exceeded the maximum level for emission?”

  “Never, sir,” snapped Ben. “When emissions come close to the maximum level, we reduce capacity—reduce our productivity, so to speak.” At this moment he wished he could talk privately with Mr. Pettengill. These questions seemed unusually probing, and Ben began to wonder if the senators’ motive for coming was indeed in response to the Southern California Society of Environmentalists. Perhaps that group had already reached an attentive ear. No matter, he decided. Nuclear power was here to stay.

  Continuing the tour, Ben led the group from the Visitor Information Center, where they had met, around the turbine building, service building, past the effluent-control room, to the waste holding tanks, all the while elaborating on the complexity of the plant and its size. To camouflage his nervousness, he kept his left hand slipped into the pocket of his lab coat. His demeanor seemed one of self-assurance, as he strolled confidently around, expounding on the various aspects of the facility. “And this area, gentlemen, is where a large percentage of the radioactive wastes are removed prior to shipment of the spent fuel rods. Fuel rods, you see, are enriched uranium-235. Uranium atoms are the ones that are split by neutrons to release tremendous heat energy.

  “During reactions, radioactive wastes accumulate on those rods, choking out, or smothering the reaction, eventually, unless the rods are replaced. Approximately every twenty-four month
s the old fuel is replaced with new, and much of the wastes are collected right here.”

  “These wastes are dangerous, I presume?” asked Senator McCauley blandly.

  “Oh, yes indeed, unless handled very carefully,” said Ben.

  “Exactly what is done with them, afterwards?”

  “They’re kept in these tanks until they decay.”

  “They are? I didn’t realize that they could all decay right in those vats,” said the senator with a note of doubt in his voice as he appraised the huge holding tanks.

  Ben was hesitant to amend the statement. Then finally, “Actually, a small part of the wastes are passed out through effluent tubes.”

  “Into the ocean?” asked the senator as he stared at the vats.

  “Into the ocean. However, they cause absolutely no detriment to marine life in the vicinity,” said Ben reassuringly.

  “Interesting,” the senator said under his breath.

  Being appointed one of the youngest chief supervisors to ever command a nuclear facility had certainly not happened because of Ben’s disdain for dealing with the public. It had been due, in part, to his total enthusiasm for this particular form of energy and its potential, but it was mainly due to his brilliance in the field of nuclear physics. Having to deal with skeptical politicians and critical environmentalists taxed his patience. Always eager to display the ingenuity of modern science, his spirits were always quickly dampened by comments that verged on impertinency, especially those which cast doubts on the effectiveness and safety of the nuclear plants.

  To his way of thinking, it would be far better if lay persons, who lacked knowledge of such installations, simply left well enough alone and let the aim of science run its course. Fortunately, the comments thus far were not the impertinent variety. Perhaps he had been mistaken to expect such from the senators. Maybe they were here simply to view the plant and nothing more.