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[personal profile] drewkitty
Moffett Field, CA
Firecracker War: Day Two

The helicopter staggered mid air as if it was being flown by a drunk. Slowly it descended, shifting from side to side, and scraping as the skids touched the concrete.

The pilot stumbled out of the cockpit and was immediately knocked down by a fire hose stream. He had radioed ahead, just a half hour ago. In that calm voice heard on so many flight recorder tapes, he had said what was necessary.

"Wind shift. We flew through the plume. Starting to feel dizzy."

The radiation safety specialist who had been running the equipment in the back got out of the helicopter on the far side of the fire truck, staggered like a drunk about fifty feet, drew a handgun, put it carefully under his chin and pulled the trigger.

The rescue crew wearing chemical warfare protective gear ignored his body and ran toward the stricken pilot. They rolled him into a stretcher and carried him towards Decontamination. All of them would need to be scrubbed and washed down.

If a mere hour of exposure had caused gross radiation sickness, the pilot was most certainly dead, beyond any hope of aid. The only question was how many days of agony it would take for him to die.

Another crew also in full gear began to decontaminate the helicopter. The only one in the squadron fitted with the full airborne monitoring and sampling package.

Mounting it on another helicopter would cost valuable time, and moreover risk damaging it. Unacceptable.

In a nearby hangar, the squadron's NBC warfare officer was giving a class on how to run the radiation monitoring equipment. The pilots were being briefed on weather and necessary flight information.

Thousands of lives depended on knowing the shape and extent of the cigar shaped plumes of fallout extending from the detonations in San Francisco and Burlingame.

The next pilot and the NBC warfare officer put on protective gear and walked out to the contaminated helicopter. Both checked their pistols. The fuel crew, also in full gear, had finished their task and was now decontaminating.

The helicopter crew chief spoke through his filter mask.

"Sir, she's really hot. At least ten REM per hour, maybe more."

"Doesn't matter."

The crews stopped and saluted as the helicopter lifted.

Within seventy two hours, every pilot and radiation safety officer in the squadron would be dead or dying from radiation exposure.

Within six months, all of them - ground crew, firefighters, medics - would be dead from cumulative exposure.


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August 2017

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