Эбби Луби - Nuclear Romance

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Nuclear Romance: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Nuclear Romance, a debut novel by New York journalist Abby Luby, was written after the devastating accident at Japan’s Fukushima nuclear power plants in March, 2011. In the novel the tragic and mysterious death of a 7-year old girl after swimming at a beach across from a nuclear power plant sets off a chain of events involving a sports journalist, an anti-nuclear activist, a grieving mother and her son.
A young woman reporter falls prey to a callous plant executive who is driven to keep the multi-billion dollar nuclear company viable. A clandestine love affair develops against the backdrop of growing anti-nuclear sentiment which escalates after highly radioactive steam escapes from the plant, forcing a mass evacuation.
This novel grips readers’ imaginations with the tension and fear that surround many of today’s nuclear power plants, especially powerful in the aftermath of Japan’s recent and still unfolding nuclear disaster.

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Jen blinked. “Huh? Radon? No, not at all. My house is fine.”

“We’re coming up with some sort of foreign substance from the first blood test. It’s really inconclusive.”

“This is a far cry from an allergic reaction or asthma—don’t you think, Dr. Turner? Is this vague guess the best you can come up with?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Look, we just don’t know. But I think your house should be checked, just as a precaution. To rule stuff out, you know? I called the local Hazmat team to come take a look. Okay?”

“I don’t get it. What could possibly be in my home that would suddenly make my daughter so sick? She’s lived there all her life.”

“Can’t say, Mrs. Elery. It could be something that she’s been exposed to over a long period of time and has now weakened her immune system. Look, it’s almost morning, and the Hazmat folks could be there in a few hours. Can you be there to let them in? Where’s Mr. Elery?”

“On his way.” She glanced at Ricky and whispered, “I’m divorced.”

“Oh. Well let me know when you’re leaving so we can alert the Hazmat guys that you’ll be home.”

He got up and accidently scrapped the table against the tile floor, waking Ricky. The boy sat up groggily.

“Is Kaylee up, Mom?”

“Probably not, but let’s go see.”

They ambled down the hall to Kaylee’s room. Through the window the nurse motioned for them to come in. The oxygen tubes were still in Kaylee’s nose, and the IV dripped saline in her veins. A boxy apparatus, sidled with a large tubular appendage, and a bag of thick white liquid were next to her bed.

“What’s that?” Jen asked the nurse.

“In case she can’t eat. We will try to feed her through her mouth.”

“You mean force-feed her?”

The nurse nodded. “It may not be necessary. We have to see if she can keep food down.”

Ricky slowly moved closer to Kaylee. He wanted to hold her hand, but she seemed so ensconced in all the medical apparatus, he wasn’t sure. He looked at the nurse for permission, and she nodded. Ricky gently put his hand over his sister’s. The girl’s eyelids flickered, and she opened her eyes.

“Hi, Kaylee.”

“Hi, Ricky,” she said in barely a whisper. “Where am I?”

Jen moved closer so Kaylee could see her.

“You’re in the hospital. You’re sick, and the doctors here will help you. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Ricky looked up at his mother and frowned, then back to Kaylee.

“You look like a ghost, ya know. All white. Really scary.”

Jen wanted to slap him, but Kaylee smiled meekly. Just then Dan walked through the door.

“Dad!” Ricky said excitedly, and he let go of Kaylee’s hand.

Thank God he’s alone, Jen thought. Dan looked at Jen. He knew she needed a hug, but instead, he opened his arms to his son. He neared Kaylee’s bed and gently touched her arm.

“Hi, Dad. Do I look like a ghost?”

“No way, Kitten. You’ll be fine.”

She looked at her father, expressionless. She seemed lifeless but peculiarly unafraid. She asked for water, and a straw was placed at her thin lips, and she slowly sipped a few drops. Minutes later she threw up what little she had taken in.

Jen felt Dan’s fear, their mutual helplessness. She fought back tears, fought back feeling needy. When the doctor came in, Dan asked him a few questions. It was the short exchange of man talk that assumed too much and asked too little. When the doctor left, Dan turned to Jen.

“It doesn’t make sense that it’s something at the house, but let them check it out anyway, okay?”

“Why? The house is fine. Always has been.”

“Please Jen. I know this is upsetting and that you want stay here, but let the guy do the test. Take Ricky home, I’ll stay with Kaylee.”

He was consoling… almost comforting. “You both can get some rest and be there for the Hazmat guy. Okay?”

They looked at each other. It was a moment of clarity, and just one thing was important—their daughter’s health.

“Jen? You’ll be okay?”

She nodded. Her eyes filled, and she quickly turned away. “I’ll take Ricky home. Thanks, Dan.”

Jen pulled up to the small, two-story frame house. It was on a block lined with similar houses on a hill overlooking the river and the railroad tracks. The house didn’t look any different. Could there really be something here that made Kaylee sick? Was something leaking in? Some odorless, toxic substance?

Ricky dragged himself out of the car. “Mom, do I have to go to school today? I’m really tired. Can I just crash?”

“Sure, Sweetie. I’ll call the school. Let’s both get some sleep.”

Later that morning a plain white van pulled up to Jen’s house. A man got out, opened the back of the vehicle and pulled out a black case. Just inside the van’s double doors hung a pearly white Hazmat suit, replete with head and foot gear. The man grabbed the radon test kit and, as an afterthought, reached for a small Geiger counter. He switched it on low and hung it over his shoulder by a thin strap.

He knocked on the front door, but no one answered. The car was in the driveway, so he knocked again and waited. Still no one. He walked around looking for a door to a basement, where radon tests are done. He noticed a soft crackle from the Geiger counter and checked the reading: it was just normal, background radiation. He headed toward the backyard, and a boy bounded out of the porch.

“Hi. Are you the Hazmat man?” Ricky was instantly intrigued with the Geiger counter.

“I am. And who are you?”

“I’m Ricky Elery. I live here. You’re here to check the house because of my sister, right? She’s really sick.”

“Yup. That’s right. I’m Jeff Collins. I work down at the firehouse. Want to help me check for radon levels?”

“Cool. Is that a real Geiger counter hanging off your shoulder? We saw one in science class. Does it just measure radiation, or other stuff?”

“Just radiation. We use other devices to check for radon and gas leaks.”

The husky man knelt down to meet Ricky eye to eye and smiled. He grabbed the Geiger counter, explained how it worked and handed it to the boy.

“You want to hold on to this?”

“Wow. Can I really?”

“Sure. You hold the Geiger counter. Keep the sensor stick pointed out. We have to check for radon with this test kit. Can you show me to the basement?”

“There’s a door in the ground you have to lift up. Follow me!”

They walked along the side of the house on a small sidewalk lined with a single row of daffodils. At the far end was a clothesline draped with the kid’s clothes, dark and wet, still soaked with river water. As they neared the line, the crackling peaked instantly and then died down. Ricky looked up at the man.

“What made it do that?”

“Don’t know.”

The man stopped to get a fix on the sound. With the Geiger counter still hanging off Ricky’s shoulder, the man nudged the sensor toward the house, the garden, the ground, but the sound stopped.

Then he pointed it toward the clothesline, and the crackling modulated into a dense stream of white noise. He cautiously closed in to the clothes, gently pulling Ricky along.

“What the…?”

“What does it mean, Mr. Collins? Is it coming from our clothes?”

Puzzled, the man took the stick from Ricky and sketched imaginary lines around the house, the ground, and the clothesline. The crackling clearly came from the wet clothes.

“Hey Ricky. Did your mom just do the laundry or something?”

“No. No. These clothes are wet from the beach.”

“What beach?”

“The riverfront. We were horsing around in the water. That’s where Kaylee got really sick.”

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