Whelan paced back and forth, chewing on his nails. His earlier jubilance had vanished completely, replaced by obvious signs of worry and agitation. The power and intensity of the pulses were exceeding all their expectations and precautions. His historic breakthrough was turning into a disaster.
“Any radiation leakage?” he asked fearfully.
A larger tremor shook the crow’s nest as the cocoon emitted an even stronger pulse. Serizawa staggered across the quaking floor to the windows overlooking the pit. Down below, the mammoth cocoon flexed and heaved, causing great hunks of its rocky outer shell to shear off and crash onto the metal grille covering the floor of the pit. Tiny figures, their movements hampered by their cumbersome radiation suits, scrambled for safety as the chunks of the shell tumbled down onto the expensive equipment like a rockslide, smashing portions of the sensor array to pieces. The impact of the fragments slamming into the metal floor echoed off the walls of the pit. As the outer layer of the cocoon disintegrated, more and more of the infernal red glow within it was exposed.
“What the hell is it doing?” Jainway asked.
“Gamma levels still zero,” his fellow technician reported, with audible relief. “It’s sucked all three reactors dry.”
Serizawa held out Brody’s printout. “It’s done feeding.”
Puzzled, Whelan grabbed the document from Serizawa. He peered at it uncomprehendingly. “What’s this?”
“Fifteen years ago,” Serizawa explained. “It’s what caused the meltdown.”
Graham had put the pieces together as well. “It was an electromagnetic pulse,” she said, chiming in. “That’s what it’s building to, converting all that radiation.”
“We need to shut down,” Serizawa said.
Whelan blanched at the prospect. “You’re sure this is authentic?”
Serizawa nodded, wishing he’d found out about Joe Brody’s findings years ago. The exact connection between the meltdown and the cocoon had always been unclear, but Serizawa now realized that an EMP produced by the larva had shut down the plant’s safety systems back in 1999. His grave expression and bearing convinced Whelan to heed his warning.
“Secure the grid!” the scientist ordered. “Wildfire protocols!”
Jainway pressed a button, sounding an alarm. He relayed Whelan’s orders into his microphone. “All personnel, clear the first perimeter, immediately!”
Klaxons blared throughout the base. Crimson warning lights flashed and rotated. Outside the crow’s nest, the generators were cranked up to full capacity as the six looming construction cranes went into operation. Gears engaged and motors roared as the cranes stretched a net of thick steel cables above the pit.
Just in case anything tried to escape.
NINE
Wailing klaxons penetrated the walls of the security van, causing Ford to start in alarm. He knew emergency warnings when he heard them. All hell was breaking loose somewhere.
Desperate to figure out what was happening, he peered out the rear window of the van. He spotted heavy steel cables winding from the base of a towering construction crane, which had just swung into action. He couldn’t make out what the cables were attached to.
Radios squawked outside the van. Ford saws guards rushing past.
“Hey!” he shouted, trying to get their attention. Had everyone forgotten that he was handcuffed inside the van? He yelled over the blaring klaxons. “HEY!”
His shouts went unheeded. Whatever crisis was underway clearly took priority over one inconvenient American trespasser. Ford realized he was on his own, right on top of a buried nuclear power plant. He remembered the radiation helmet tucked in his belt and hastily put it back on. He used his free hand to refasten it to the suit.
Better safe than sorry.
Serizawa watched from the crow’s nest as the tech crews on the lower levels of the pit scrambled out of the way as the huge wire “cage” descended, sealing the cocoon inside, even as another layer of the outer shell shook loose, sloughing onto the floor of the pit with tremendous force. Serizawa offered a silent prayer for the workers below, hoping they would not be crushed by the stony fragments, which were as hard and brittle as volcanic rock.
Agitated voices filled the control room. The pulses, coming faster and faster, were growing steadily in strength. Arguments broke out among the panicky scientists and technicians as they debated the correct response to the escalating crisis. Emergency measures were hurriedly deployed, but Serizawa got a definite sense that matters were spiraling out of control. Besieged by critical reports and queries from the staff under his command, Dr. Whelan looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. It appeared now that they had all severely underestimated the forces — and the creature — they had sought to contain. Whelan’s dreams of solving the world’s energy crisis were turning into a nightmare.
“Grid secure!” Jainway called out as the high-tension netting stretched taut above the quivering cocoon. The technician let out a sigh of relief, which Serizawa feared might be premature. After all, the cage had never been tested.
The announcement quieted the tumult inside the control room. Overlapping voices trailed off as all heads turned toward Whelan, who was pacing back and forth before the windows. Everyone present knew what came next. Jainway’s hand hovered above a switch. He looked to Whelan for the go-ahead.
“Say the word,” the technician said.
Whelan, for his part, appeared overwhelmed by the responsibility that had fallen on him. He looked in turn to Serizawa, who sympathized with the stricken scientist. This was no easy decision.
“So much we still don’t know,” Whelan moaned, agonizing over the potential loss to science.
Down in the pit, the cocoon shuddered again, shedding yet another layer of shell. Great chunks of the cocoon rained down on the metal flooring, which began to buckle beneath the avalanche. With each layer, more and more of the unearthly effulgence at the core of the cocoon could be seen, although the organism within remained hidden from view.
But for how much longer?
“Kill it,” Serizawa said.
Whelan let Serizawa make the call. He nodded to Jainway, who threw the switch.
Thousands of volts electrified the metal grille at the base of the cocoon. Bright blue flashes crackled across the flooring. The cocoon sizzled and convulsed as the electricity arced across its outer shell, jolting it with bolts of artificial lightning. Smoke rose from its cracking outer shell. Floodlights and fuses blew, throwing the entire pit into darkness. Graham gasped, and Whelan looked away from the window. In theory, whatever was growing inside the cocoon had just been electrocuted.
Serizawa prayed they had not waited too long.
On the monitors, the data feeds all went silent. A hush fell over the control room.
“All readings are flat-lining,” Jainway reported.
“Is it dead?” Whelan asked.
Serizawa peered down into the murky pit. As nearly as he could tell, the cocoon remained intact, apart from a single long crack splitting its surface. Shadows filled the gap, making it impossible to discern what lay deeper within the cocoon. The bioluminous glow had been extinguished. No sound or motion could be detected from this height.
Jainway sagged back into his seat, looking drained. He clearly thought the crisis had been averted, as did various other technicians throughout the control room. The electricity appeared to have done the trick, but Serizawa remained on edge. There was too much at stake to take any chances.
“Get a visual,” he instructed.
Down in the pit, a work crew cautiously approached the charred cocoon. The metal grid beneath their feet was no longer electrified, but their hazmats suits included rubber boots regardless. Massive fragments of dislodged shell, the size of boulders, were embedded in the floor, forcing the workers to detour around them. Burnt and shattered scientific equipment further obstructed their path. The grilled flooring was dented and cratered, making it difficult to navigate. It was several minutes before they reached the base of the cocoon, which remained dark and inert.