With the gate now open, he drove his pickup truck slowly around a large outcropping of rocks covered with years of sea gull droppings, which gave the whole area a strong, ammonia-like smell. There was nothing on the other side of the gate but a small rock-strewn bluff overlooking the plant outfall, where the warm discharge water from the plant emptied out into the cool waters of the Pacific Ocean.
The security cameras were not directed to look in this area, because it was inaccessible from the ocean some thirty feet below and presented no real security threat to the plant. Despite the lack of cameras Bobby sensed that he was being watched. He froze in place and felt his heart thumping in his chest. It was as if he could feel the darkness, full of the dank, rotting smell of ocean decay, envelope him in its cold, lifeless grip.
Then he heard it. Actually, it wasn’t so much what he heard, but what he felt. The Headlands Nuclear Power Plant gave off a low but detectable hum that seemed to permeate everything. It was as if the ground itself was vibrating. He didn’t know why, but he turned and looked up at the plant a couple hundred yards away, thinking it almost seemed alive to him — something he really hadn’t noticed before. A feeling of foreboding passed over him that he couldn’t explain but which seemed to signal that he’d crossed over to a world that was trying to swallow him whole. If he were smart, he would’ve stopped what he was doing, turned around, and headed for the light and salvation. It’s not that he wasn’t smart. He’d gotten good grades in school. He was just young, impressionable, and wanted the money he’d been offered to do this unspeakable thing, and the new truck and clothes and big screen TV it could buy. He shook his head from side to side to clear it, not really wanting to think too much about it, but the sound now was malignant and wouldn’t quiet in his head.
Quickly and quietly, he let down the tailgate of the truck, grabbed the large, black plastic bag with his ‘cargo’ in it and pulled it toward him. The bed of the truck was wet from the fog and his cargo slipped out and almost fell on top of him as it landed with a thud on the ground at his feet.
He grabbed the bag by the corners and muscled it over to the edge of the cliff. As he reached down and undid one end of the bag, he grimaced at the sight of the body of what used to be a pretty, young woman. He just wanted this to be over now, and he was no longer sure this was worth the money he was getting. It sounded a lot better to him when his part in this was being explained and there wasn’t a dead body in front of him.
With trepidation he reached in, eased her arms up over her head, and pulled her out of the bag by the wrists. He’d forgotten to put on the gloves he’d brought with him and almost jumped when he felt her cold, claylike skin. The sight of her lying there, lifeless, made him want to gag, but he had to get her out of the bag so that when she went into the water the crabs and fish could more easily feed on her and render her unrecognizable. Bacteria from decay would cause gas to build up in her body cavity, causing her to bloat and disfigure, but the sea life would do a better, and faster, job… at least, that’s what he’d been told.
She wasn’t heavy, but fear and guilt caused his breathing to labor as he dragged her over to the edge of the rocks. As she lay there in front of him, blouse slightly askew, her gray, naked waist exposed and her bra showing, he remembered having seen her around the plant from time to time. She was — had been — an attractive woman, and he was a single guy, though he didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. He knew she worked in the Health Physics Department and is¾was¾married to someone who worked there, but that didn’t stop him from having his little fantasies. Before tonight, when he went over this job in his mind, he’d contemplated touching her, but the clammy feel of her skin left him queasy and he just wanted to get this over with before he threw up. He found nothing attractive about her now.
Bending over, he reached his arms underneath her back and legs, dragged her the short distance to oblivion, and rolled her off the edge of the cliff. For reasons he did not fully understand, he found himself holding his breath, as if doing so would create a barrier between him and the lifeless body he just pushed into the waiting abyss.
He watched as she dropped into the water with a small, almost noiseless splash thirty feet below, and then popped back to the surface and lingered there for a moment, face down in the water. But then, in the warm, frothy water, Bobby watched with revulsion as she made a slow, macabre spiral, her body turning so that it lay face up, staring at him, her lifeless eyes wide open in frozen condemnation. He dropped to his knees and retched uncontrollably for several minutes, unable to watch as she was swept out to sea. Within a couple of hours, he knew she’d be well out in the ocean, where the tides and currents would carry her far from the rugged coastline, hoping nobody could ever trace this to him, yet fearing somehow, they would.
Sweating profusely, yet chilled to the bone, Bobby struggled to his feet, wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, gathered up the now empty black plastic bag, threw it back into the truck bed, and pushed the tailgate closed gently, careful not to bang it shut. He didn’t want to do anything to raise suspicion. Not tonight.
Climbing back into the truck, he slowly made his way back to the other side of the gate, making sure he left it locked the way he’d found it. With his grisly task complete, he turned the heater up full, not sure if he was hot or cold but thankful for the warmth anyway.
He drove to the parking lot at the top of the road near the plant main entrance, careful not to exceed the speed limit of 10 mph, to a trash dumpster partially hidden behind some temporary trailers, where he quickly disposed of the black plastic bag. He thought he’d feel better once all evidence of what he’d done had been erased. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
As he headed off on what remained of his security rounds, he heard the sea rise up and crash over the breakwater with a vicious pounding. The news said there was a winter storm coming, which usually meant big waves, or at least big swells. He hadn’t really noticed the waves on his way down to the outfall, but now the ocean sounded as if it were angry.
Within a matter of minutes, Bobby pulled up to one of the many temporary trailers set up in the back of the parking lots as makeshift offices for contractors and temporary employees. He knew they’d be unoccupied at that time of night. Using his security keys, he opened one, went inside, found a phone, and dialed a four-digit plant number.
“It’s done,” he told the person on the other end, almost sobbing into the phone.
He felt completely drained of energy or enthusiasm, knowing what he’d done would haunt him the rest of his life. Listening to the ocean as it continued its relentless assault on the shoreline, he recognized it as a metaphor for the rest of his wretched life.
CHAPTER 3