Warning: strong language
Last Hours
Hour 0
Scott Logan stepped out of the truck, excited to finally do his job. The nuclear power plant towered over him. With reinforced concrete walls several meters thick, several layers of barbed wire fences, and an entire platoon of men pulling security, it truly was a fortress. Scott hesitated for a moment but pressed forward anyway. He had spent the last three years training for such an event, and he was sure that it would pay off.
“What's happening?” his team leader Hammonds demanded as Scott helped him into the HAZMAT suit.
“Station 4 is overheating,” the plant supervisor replied. “We've tried cutting power, but it's not working.” The supervisor was short compared to Hammonds, but then again most people were. Scott could see a layer of sweat clinging to his forehead, though it was a cool autumn day. He supposed that he'd be sweating too if he were in charge of an overheating nuclear reactor.
“You can't cut the power, or you've cut it but it's still overheating?” Scott asked. If there was one thing he hated, it was imprecise language.
“Well, I mean, we thought the power was gone, but clearly... I mean there's no way it should be getting any-”
“Okay, you can stop talking now,” Hammonds interrupted. “The experts are here.” As the supervisor walked off in indignation, Hammonds began helping Scott into his own suit.
“You thinking what I'm thinking?” Scott asked.
“That someone low ranking and expendable needs to get his a** to Station 4 to verify? Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking.”
Scott sighed. “I'll get right on that.”
Hour 1
“No.” Scott sat in Station 4, scrolling through various schematics on his computer. “No.” Power plants were complicated places, so there was a lot of irrelevant information to search through. It didn't help that most of it was poorly organized. “No.” He had been sitting there for at least twenty minutes trying to find a readout of the Station 4 reactor. It really shouldn't have been that difficult. Reactors are a pretty important part, and the blueprints should be simple to find.
After far too long, he finally found the file he needed. The man leaned closer to the screen and traced out the pipes in the diagram, trying to figure out how it worked. “This one goes there.... That one goes there,” he muttered to himself. “Oh s**t.”
“Logan, that you?” His team leader's voice crackled through the speaker in his suit. “What's going on man? Why are we talking about s**t?”
“Uh, hang on a bit. Probably nothing,” Scott replied. He quickly ran through some calculations in his head. He pulled up a calculator and them again to double check. He stared at the screen, refusing to believe what he saw. A knot of terror was forming in his stomach, and it was all he could do not to vomit.
“Logan? Talk to me.”
“Um...” Scott took a moment to steady his voice. “I'm going to need you to double check some numbers for me,” he said as calmly as he could manage. He relayed the data to Hammonds and waited, hardly daring to breathe, as he crunched the numbers.
“Oh s**t. This is bad. We've got, hang on-”
“We've got twenty four hours.”
There was silence for about a minute. Scott glanced back at his computer to run the calculations again.
“Okay, let's think this through,” Hammonds said. “We've got twenty four hours until this thing goes, um-”
“You were about to say nuclear, weren't you?”
“Hyperreactive. Anyway, that should give us enough time to get this to a science guy so he can figure out where's going to be safe. So I'll just get this to the right people, and then I'll be down there to give you a hand, all right?”
“Yeah, that's a negative. I've already sealed the station shut. Radiation's going to be flying pretty hard in a couple hours.”
“Wait, you're closed in?” For the first time since he'd known him, Scott could hear surprise in Hammonds' voice. The old sergeant had finally lost his cool.
“Live long and prosper, b***h.”
Hour 4
Scott finally managed to get the access cover off. His shirt was drenched in his sweat, and his hands were trembling from exhaustion. He fell back and allowed the cover to clatter to the floor. Improvising tools like screwdrivers was never fun. Fortunately he had gotten lots of practice a few years ago when Jones forgot the toolkit. Otherwise, he'd probably still be nowhere close to getting the damn thing off.
He glanced over the mess of wires he had uncovered, trying to make sense of it. He massaged the sides of his head. The tension just kept building and building, and it was getting to the point where he could barely think anymore.
“Logan, you there?”
Scott sighed. The last thing he needed was someone nagging him.
“Yeah, what's up?”
“Listen, we showed some physicists what you found, and it's not good.”
“Already knew that.” He winced, uncomfortable with snapping at his team leader. But it was already said, and he pressed on. “How not good are we talking?”
“Well, this is the largest reactor we have, so-”
“Look, I don't exactly have unlimited time here.”
“This thing goes off, the whole world's ********, just to clarify-”
“No one's surviving this.”
“Oh.” That was all that could be said really. Scott had just found out almost seven billion people would soon be dead. His planet would probably be completely unrecognizable. Glorious mountain ranges destroyed, and sky full of ash. But that wouldn't matter, because no one would be around to enjoy it anyway. No more perfect symphonies or heart-wrenching paintings of exotic beauties. It would all be over.
“Logan, you there?” Hammonds' voice shocked him out of his reverie.
“Yeah. I don't think there's anything I can do here, but-”
“We're counting on you man.”
“I'll do what I can.”
With a deep breath, Scott returned to the wiring.
Hour 8
Scott was interrupted by a soft buzzing coming from his helmet. With a sigh he crossed the room and picked it up.
“-there? What's going on?'
Scott pulled the radio out of the suit.
“This is Logan. What's up.”
“Hello there, Specialist Logan. This is Matt Johnstone from CNN. Can you tell us what it's like down there?”
Scott rolled his eyes. He thought Hammonds was smarter than that. He really didn't have time. Then again, whatever he was trying to do clearly wasn't working anyway.
“Okay, you know sewage? Now imagine that the sewage is trying to kill you. And there's a big overheating metal glowy thing in the middle of it.”
“I see. Very interesting imagery there, Mr. Logan. May I call you Scott?”
“You can call me Ishmael,” Scott suggested.
“Can you tell us what you're doing in there Mr. Logan?”
“Trying to not kill everyone ever.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Well, I spent a couple hours removing a metal thing. Then I realized it was the wrong metal thing. Now I'm trying to remove the metal thing I should have removed the first time.”
“Metal thing?”
“It's a technical term.”
“Well, thank you for your time Mr. Logan. Is there anything you'd like to say to any family or friends that may be watching?”
“Nope.”
Hour 11
“Hello Mr. Logan. This is Tiffany Brown from ABC ******** you. ******** you. ******** you.”
“Have a nice day Mr. Logan.”
Hour 14
Scott looked down at his checklist. Of the six plans he had come up with, four had failed, and one was impossible. That left him with only one option, and it was at the bottom of a lake of radioactive sludge. Normally, there would be a way to drain it so he could get to the door, but when the idiot told the other idiot to cut the power, that became impossible.
He tentatively inserted his hand into the mess. It didn't feel like an insidious death brew at least. It was pretty much just disgusting. Well, he'd done disgusting before. He put his helmet back on, sealed it, and dove into the sludge, hoping that this console would be operable.
Hour 19
Scott leaned against the wall of Station 4, clothed only in his boxers. His HAZMAT suit lay in a pile near the two abandoned access panel. He had a phone in his hand and was trying to remember a number. After a good deal of guessing, he finally got it and wait as the phone rang.
“Hi, you've reached Sarah Arbeiter. I'm not home right now, but if you want to leave a message just start talking at the sound of the tone.”
Scott took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had had it all planned out, but he'd forgotten everything as soon as he picked up the phone.
“Hi Sarah. This is Scott. I know it's a little weird, but I guess we're all about to die anyway. Probably doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.” He could feel his mouth starting to go dry. This shouldn't be so hard. “Thank you for being my friend. It means a lot to me. Anyway-” He cut himself off. He could feel his voice about to crack. Deep breaths, he told himself. Calm down. “I'm sure you've heard about what's happening. I'm trying to fix it, but... you've got about six hours left. If you can make it to Arizona, I'm sure it will be painless.”
Scott hung up and finally let himself cry. Not just for the impending destruction, but for everything. His life of self-enforced solitude. All the relationships he had fled from. Because he wouldn't be able to stop the explosion. Because he would never know what is was to be loved. Every single regret he had ever accumulated over his twenty five years of life came crashing down on him in that moment, and it took all his will not to cry himself into blissful slumber to meet the end of the world.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Hour 24
He had always known, somehow, that he'd die alone. Just as he'd lived. It was all for the best, he supposed. If he was with the other people, at least someone would try to say something poetic and end up saying something stupid. Much more pleasant with complete silence.
Scott checked his watch. Ten minutes left. He sat down in front of the reactor and waited for it all to finally end. Somehow, alone with the machine, it didn't seem all that frightening anymore. He had spent the last twenty four hours working harder than he ever had before. He had not eaten or slept in over forty. Now he was just ready to rest.
Scott Logan glanced down at his watch one last time. 3.. 2... 1... He looked back up in time to see the explosion that killed the Earth. It was beautiful.
