The air rippled behind them as a billowing cloud of radioactive vapor and particulate matter blew in from the far end of the corridor. The oncoming vapors set off the radiation sensors in the ceiling, causing the emergency klaxons to sound directly overhead. Flashing red lights accompanied the sirens. The hot gases and steam rushed toward Sandra and the others with frightening speed. Unable to outrun it, her eyes wide with horror, she braced herself as the cloud blasted past them like a red-hot gust of wind, knocking them all to the floor. Buffeted by the blast, she felt the heat of the vapors through the multiple layers of her protective suit. She held her breath instinctively, despite the gas mask protecting her air supply.

Oh my God, she thought. Have I been exposed?

But that wasn’t the worst part. The cloud kept on going, triggering sirens further ahead. It flooded down the corridor toward the containment threshold. Sandra and Yamato traded stunned looks. They all knew what would happen if the irradiated cloud reached the checkpoint first, what would have to happen for the safety of the entire community. They needed to be on other side of that boundary before it was too late.

Panicked, they all scrambled to their feet and ran madly for the checkpoint.

* * *

“Five seconds… four seconds…”

Takashi counted down over the intercom as Joe stood like a statue right outside the containment area, staring bleakly at the empty corridor beyond. He remembered kissing Sandra in the car less than an hour ago, tried to remember the last thing he said to her before they went their separate ways this morning. Had he said he loved her, or even said goodbye?

He knew he couldn’t wait much longer.

“Joe,” Takashi said, reaching the end of his countdown. No doubt he was tracking the progress of the radiation leak as it spread through the lower levels. “You have to shut it down… now.”

Looking away from the entrance, Joe stared at the manual control button on the wall. He tried to step toward it, but his feet didn’t want to move. He forced himself to take one step toward the button, two, three… until the button was within reach. He raised his hand, clenched his fist.

God forgive me, he thought.

Static squawked from the walkie-talkie. Fragmented bursts of his wife’s voice came over the speaker:

“—Joe—ear—an—”

His heart surged in his chest. He clutched the walkie-talkie hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Desperation filled his voice.

“Sandra?… Sandra?”

Perversely, the static abated long enough for him to hear her clearly at last, perhaps for the last time.

“Joe. It’s too late! We’re not going to make it!”

Her words hit him harder than any earthquake, shattering his world. “No, no!” he shouted into the walkie-talkie. “Don’t you say that! Don’t you stop—!”