Read Online The Yellowstone Conundrum by John Randall - Free Book Online
Authors: John Randall
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monitors. I don’t have jack shit. There’s noise out there that shouldn’t be there and nobody’s picking up any of the in-house lines.” Andy added. “I’ve never felt anything like it. My gut tells me we’ve taken a big, big hit.”
Not good; neither needed to add that the Columbia Generating Station needed electricity in order to properly shut down the nuclear power plant. Andy’s shirt showed sweat circles through his undershirt and long-sleeved white shirt. He’d made it a policy of his to dress one level higher than his co-workers. Being the youngest, he’d learned that in government, you did your job and kept your mouth shut. It was OK in business to assert oneself, but in the government, jobs were held by tenure. (See Holt, Leon)
Working in the belly of the beast from ten-thirty PM to seven AM, going home when the sun hit you in the eyes, sleeping during the prime of the day; having cocktails at 8 AM while cooking a steak on the Barbie, all took getting used to.
“I show you’re--”
The line went dead.
It’s OK the emergency power will come on and the door will open. The darkness of the room didn’t do much for his confidence. It’s OK the emergency power will come on and the door will open.
“We’re off grid,” Andy let the words trail off. Shit was the magic word of the morning. The line to Portland went dead as did the only light in the control room, cutting off Jake Beatty in mid sentence.
Andy’s mouth was cotton-dry; his pits were soaked and he had to pee out of his ear.
“Ok then,” Andy started, his words a little more than a croak. “Leon, what’s the manual say about this one?
He’d always been thin; while turning into a bean pole wouldn’t happen until he was 18 and a senior, at age 15 he was just a sprout and in the ninth grade. If he’d been a green bean he’d be part of what went into the trash. As a freshman he was a full head shorter than the average ninth grader; and, when you’re in the ninth grade all you want to do is be average. All the good-looking ninth grade girls all wanted to sneak out of home and date seniors, while the rest of the dorky girls were just as dorky as the dorky boys. Just be average and get through it!
But, it was not to be. L ittle Andy Everett had grown up to be six-two, thin as a rail at 160 pounds, but had paid attention in math and science classes and had gone to Columbia Basin Community College across the river in Pasco. After two years he had an Instrumentation and Control Technician degree in the Nuclear Technology School and had submitted a resume to Columbia Generating as well as to several of the other contractors responsible for the clean-up of Hanford’s nuclear waste. In 2008 he’d started working third shift in Maintenance, then two years later applied for a third-shift position in the power control center earning $38,000. Turnover was slow. Everyone else was a decade older, at least. There was little-to-no movement to a first- or second-shift job.
Andy had one little problem. He was claustrophobic.
On Tuesday December 21 st at 4:45 in the afternoon, freshman Andy Everett, star of the fall freshman cross-country team, was mugged inside Kennewick High School by three football players. This was a time when hazing—although gone for the large majority of high schools—still existed. Andy had finished cleaning out his sports locker and was returning to his book locker. It was the last day before Christmas vacation. The three football players, urged on by who else but two good-looking nine-grade girls, decided to teach the little nerd a lesson in humility. Too many of his ninth-grade classmates looked up to Andy, who didn’t act out, went to class, just wanting to be average.
In the matter of five seconds the three older boys had Andy secured, his head covered with a balaclava turned backwards, which made breathing extremely difficult. His feet never touched the
Not good; neither needed to add that the Columbia Generating Station needed electricity in order to properly shut down the nuclear power plant. Andy’s shirt showed sweat circles through his undershirt and long-sleeved white shirt. He’d made it a policy of his to dress one level higher than his co-workers. Being the youngest, he’d learned that in government, you did your job and kept your mouth shut. It was OK in business to assert oneself, but in the government, jobs were held by tenure. (See Holt, Leon)
Working in the belly of the beast from ten-thirty PM to seven AM, going home when the sun hit you in the eyes, sleeping during the prime of the day; having cocktails at 8 AM while cooking a steak on the Barbie, all took getting used to.
“I show you’re--”
The line went dead.
It’s OK the emergency power will come on and the door will open. The darkness of the room didn’t do much for his confidence. It’s OK the emergency power will come on and the door will open.
“We’re off grid,” Andy let the words trail off. Shit was the magic word of the morning. The line to Portland went dead as did the only light in the control room, cutting off Jake Beatty in mid sentence.
Andy’s mouth was cotton-dry; his pits were soaked and he had to pee out of his ear.
“Ok then,” Andy started, his words a little more than a croak. “Leon, what’s the manual say about this one?
He’d always been thin; while turning into a bean pole wouldn’t happen until he was 18 and a senior, at age 15 he was just a sprout and in the ninth grade. If he’d been a green bean he’d be part of what went into the trash. As a freshman he was a full head shorter than the average ninth grader; and, when you’re in the ninth grade all you want to do is be average. All the good-looking ninth grade girls all wanted to sneak out of home and date seniors, while the rest of the dorky girls were just as dorky as the dorky boys. Just be average and get through it!
But, it was not to be. L ittle Andy Everett had grown up to be six-two, thin as a rail at 160 pounds, but had paid attention in math and science classes and had gone to Columbia Basin Community College across the river in Pasco. After two years he had an Instrumentation and Control Technician degree in the Nuclear Technology School and had submitted a resume to Columbia Generating as well as to several of the other contractors responsible for the clean-up of Hanford’s nuclear waste. In 2008 he’d started working third shift in Maintenance, then two years later applied for a third-shift position in the power control center earning $38,000. Turnover was slow. Everyone else was a decade older, at least. There was little-to-no movement to a first- or second-shift job.
Andy had one little problem. He was claustrophobic.
On Tuesday December 21 st at 4:45 in the afternoon, freshman Andy Everett, star of the fall freshman cross-country team, was mugged inside Kennewick High School by three football players. This was a time when hazing—although gone for the large majority of high schools—still existed. Andy had finished cleaning out his sports locker and was returning to his book locker. It was the last day before Christmas vacation. The three football players, urged on by who else but two good-looking nine-grade girls, decided to teach the little nerd a lesson in humility. Too many of his ninth-grade classmates looked up to Andy, who didn’t act out, went to class, just wanting to be average.
In the matter of five seconds the three older boys had Andy secured, his head covered with a balaclava turned backwards, which made breathing extremely difficult. His feet never touched the
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