Michael Beres - Chernobyl Murders

The other technicians ignored the supervisor of electricians.

Instead they stood at the console, staring wide-eyed at the flashing lights at their stations the way children stare wide-eyed when trapped in an impossible situation. The lights from the console surrounding the technicians gave their off-white uniforms a pinkish hue. When an alarm bell began ringing, everyone froze, standing perfectly still and silent.

A few seconds later, there was an explosion that shook the control room. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the plastic shields from several overhead lights clattered to the floor.

“The core!” shouted someone.

“No! Idiot! A steam line!”

“Get out!”

“We can’t! We have to go in there!”

The control console was even brighter now. Hundreds of red lights were glowing in the room like a fire from hell.

After double-checking his gauges, one of the more knowledge-able technicians backed quickly from the console, slamming into the conference table and falling on his back. He wriggled on the table for a moment like an upturned turtle. A few smiled back at him, but stopped smiling when they saw the look on his face. When the technician got off the table, he shouted. “I’m reading more than a thousand rems in the turbine room! If we don’t get the fuck out of here, we’ll all be dead!”

Everyone in the control room remained frozen for another moment until first one, then another, then all of the men began running for the exit at the rear of the control room. None of them went to the door at the side of the room that lead to the turbine room and the reactors, the door through which Mihaly and another technician had disappeared shortly before the explosion.

In the turbine room of unit four, the sound of the turbine slowing down had reached a low pitch, almost a moan. Off to the side, there was another moan, the feeble moan of the technician who had run from the control room with Mihaly. The technician lay trapped beneath a massive section of steam line blown from the side of the turbine by the explosion.

Nearer the turbine, superheated steam from the reactor gushed upward, blowing out skylights, knocking down sections of catwalk.

The room became engulfed in a hot fog. Mihaly crawled on the floor to the man trapped beneath the steam line and began pulling on the man’s arms. Nearby electrical fires and sparks lit up the fog in alternate hues of orange and blue.

Across the cooling pond on the narrow strip of land separating the pond from the Pripyat River, waterfowl settled back down after being startled by the steam explosion. Back at the plant, ghostlike figures ran across the yard of the lighted complex. One of the ghostlike figures jumped onto the rear bumper of a utility truck speeding away. Shouts of panic could be heard across the pond as faint whimpers in the night.

Soon after the running figures disappeared beyond the bright lights of the main reactor complex, the core of unit four exploded.

From across the pond it appeared as if the roof of the building had been severed and lifted slowly and quietly by a cauldron of flame.

Then the sound and the shock wave hit, and all the creatures of the pond were startled from their sleep.

The roof broke into several pieces, turning end over end. Flames shot into the air, lifting fragments that glowed and arced in the sky like fireworks. Flames emerging from the shell of the building lit up the sky and made the thick, black smoke from unit four into a monster dancing in the gentle spring breeze.

It was 1:23 a.m. on Saturday, April 26, and something was very wrong at Chernobyl.

Juli sat up, threw back the blanket, and turned on the lamp, expecting to see Marina’s bed empty beside hers, expecting Marina to be in the bathroom or the kitchenette because it would account for the sound. But Marina was in bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow.

The clock on the lamp table showed it was after one in the morning.

“Marina. Are you asleep?”

Marina stirred, turned her face away from the light. “Hmm?”

“Marina?”

“Time to get up already?”

“No. It’s only 1:30.”

“Good. I need my beauty sleep.”

“You didn’t hear anything?”

Marina turned to Juli, shaded her eyes with her hand. “Was it the neighbors again?”

“It sounded like an explosion,” said Juli. “I was asleep, and it woke me.”

“Maybe the baby kicked.”

Juli held her stomach with both hands. “So soon?”

“I’m joking,” said Marina. “It’s probably Mihaly tossing stones at the window. Wants to know what was bothering you after work today… I mean yesterday. Go to sleep. It’s the middle of the night and I have to work at the store early. They’re probably already in line to complain to me, as if I can do anything about the idiotic sizes the supplier ships.”

Marina turned away from the light, wrapped the pillow about her head. All was silent except… except what? Juli stopped breathing and listened. The balcony. There was someone on the balcony!

She could hear voices through the glass door and curtains.

“Marina. Listen.”

Marina sat up with her eyes closed, opened her eyes, stared at the closed curtains. “Who could be out there this time of night?”

Marina got out of bed and walked to the window. “Shut off the light so I can look out.”

After Juli turned out the light, Marina parted the curtains.

“People are down in the courtyard.”

“Who?”

“From ground-floor apartments, I guess. They’ve got coats on over their bedclothes.”

“What are they doing?”

“Looking at the sky. Looking at something orange in the sky.”

Outside, a steady breeze blew out of the south. Neighbors in the courtyard resembled plump birds standing about nodding to one another. Everyone wore coats. Showing below the coats were pa-jamas, nightshirts, nightgowns, and, in some cases, bare legs and bony white ankles. The neighbors stood looking south between Juli’s building and the next building.

“It’s the atomic plant,” said one man. “My brother works there.

Thank God he’s not there now.”

“Maybe it’s a grass fire,” said another.

“They’re burning palms for Palm Sunday,” slurred a man who was obviously drunk.

“It’s something for May Day,” said yet another man, this one not drunk. “They’re clearing a field for the parade.”

“Idiots!” said a woman. “They don’t burn palms until later, for the next Ash Wednesday. Who would purposely start a fire in the middle of the night?”

“Today is the Saturday of Lazarus,” said a woman in a soft voice.

“At our church they ran short of palms and they’ll use pussy willows this Sunday. A man who lives on Lesya Ukrainka Street was running home when I came out. He said the fir and pine forests are on fire.”

“Not a forest fire,” said a heavy woman in furry slippers, an overcoat, and a babushka. “Didn’t you hear the explosion? It knocked me out of bed.”

Two teenaged boys behind the woman laughed, and she turned about to scowl at them. The boys’ faces were lit orange by the glow from the sky.

“Look,” said one of the men. “Sparks flying. And smoke.”

“It’s poisonous,” said the heavy woman. “It probably has atoms in it.”

Another man who had been standing silently to the side said,

“Of course it has atoms in it. Everything is made of atoms.”

Juli stood with Marina, watching the sky.

“Is it dangerous?” whispered Marina.

The glow in the sky became more sinister as a column of black smoke leaned to the north and merged with the clouds.

Marina held Juli’s arm. “You said Mihaly was working tonight.