Debbie Sturrock was actually coming off duty when it happened; that was the irony of it. And strictly speaking she wasn’t even a firefighter at all, since she hadn’t yet completed her training in the Scottish Fire Service Training School, down the road at Gullane.

She just happened to be in the way.

Torness, the modern nuclear power plant just outside Dunbar, meant little to Debbie. She drove past it every day on her way to her training assignment at the fire station in North Berwick. Torness was just an anonymous, slightly sinister collection of blue cylinders and boxes and piping, hiding behind a row of immature fir trees.

But today, as she drove towards it on the crowded road, alarms were sounding, and people were fleeing out of the gates, and there was black smoke billowing from the big structure of steel and glass at the heart of the compound.

She pulled over to look more closely.

A pillar of flame. Sparks. Bits of concrete, metal structures, tumbling in the air.

She drove up the broad main drive and got out of the car. She had her yellow hard hat and her jacket in the boot; she pulled them on, running to the gate.

A security man was here, holding his position despite his obvious fear, directing others, office workers and engineers and managers. Debbie approached him.

“I can help. Which way?”

He looked her over, evidently recognized her as a firefighter, and pointed. She hurried into the compound.

The big, box-like building at the heart of the compound seemed to have exploded; the thin metal frame was ripped open at the roof, like a tin can. Above the damaged building there was a bluish glow, and pockets of fire on the surrounding buildings.

She found herself walking across a neat lawn that was littered with glowing debris.

Despite herself, her pace slowed. This was, after all, a nuke plant. Dear God. What have I walked into here?

Well, she’d already been in a lot of fires, and she’d never hesitated before.

Without thinking, she pushed herself forward, towards the blue glow.

The heat was enormous, like a wind, crowding through the layers of her clothing.

She came to a maintenance crew, trapped in a tool bunker maybe five hundred yards from the explosion’s core. The bunker wouldn’t last long; Debbie Sturrock could see a blood-red liquid seeping from the walls as they started to melt in the massive heat. The maintenance guys had no protective gear.

A fire crew was pushing in towards the tool bunker with a fire hose. They were trying to keep the water playing on the door.

Debbie joined them. The crew leader waved at her, miming at her to piss off out of here. She ignored him, and lent her strength to the efforts of the crew as they kept the hose directed at the door.