Outpost (16 page)

Sian
sat at Rawlins's desk. The lights flickered. Slight tremor. A pot of pencils
toppled from the desk and scattered on the floor.

Sian
picked up the radio.

'Guys?
Ghost? Do you copy, over?'

The
lights flickered again.

'Guys,
what's going on?'

A
sudden alarm. A red ceiling strobe began to flash. A woman's super-calm
voice:'...
Emergency stations. Fire warning. Emergency stations. Fire warning . . !

Sian
checked the floor plan on the desk screen. The fuel store and adjacent corridor
flashed red.

'Folks,
I've got multiple alerts in D Module. What's going on?'

Punch
ran down the corridor towards D Module. He fumbled for his radio.

'. . .
Emergency stations. Fire warning. Emergency stations.
Fire warning
. . '.

'What's
the deal?' he said, shouting to be heard over the emergency announcement.

'Fire and monoxide alerts on C deck,'
said Sian. '
Lots
of them
.'

'Is
this is a system fault or an actual fire?'

'I'm going up to the roof
said Sian.
'I'm going to check
.
'

'Close
the blast doors. Drop any left open. Close them all.'

'What about Ghost and Jane
?
'

Ghost
and Jane ran up the stairs. They reached the top just as a blast door closed,
sealing them inside the D Module stairwell. Ghost jabbed Open. The hatch didn't
respond.

'There
must be an override,' said Jane.

'There
is. A key. Punch has it.'

He
took out his radio.

'Sian?
Sian, do you copy, over?' No response. 'Fucking stairway. It's a refuge point.
Thick walls.'

'That's
good, right?'

Wisps
of smoke from below. They leaned over the railing. The bottom of the stairwell
was hazed with smoke. Ghost ripped open a fire locker. He ran down the stairs
with an Ansul extinguisher. Jane followed.

'These
doors are supposed to hold back thousand-degree heat for twelve hours
straight,' coughed Jane.

'It's
not the door, it's the conduits. Electrical fires behind the bulkheads.'

Black
smoke seeped from a wall-vent. Ghost discharged the extinguisher into the vent.
The jet of carbon dioxide roared, sputtered and died.

'Sian?
Sian, can you hear me, over? Fuck.'

They
ran upstairs. Ghost took breathing apparatus from the fire locker. One air
tank. One mask. They buddy-breathed, drew lungfuls of oxygen as they passed the
mask back and forth.

'How
much air is in this tank?' gasped Jane.

'Thirty
minutes, tops.'

Sian
vaulted stairs to the helipad. She forgot her coat. She ran outside in her
T-shirt.

Smoke
wafted from the adjacent accommodation block.

'We
have a fire. A big one. C level. Are you getting this, Punch? Can you hear me?'

Sian
leaned over the edge of the helipad to get a better view.

She
was shivering with cold. Water gushed from beneath the burning habitation block
and cascaded into the sea. A ruptured pipe.

'Punch,
I'm looking over the side. Heavy damage. We're losing water. There are flames.'

'. . .
Emergency stations. Fire warning. Emergency stations.
Fire warning
. . !

Punch
ran down the corridor to D Module. The hatch at the end of the passage had a
porthole. Fire on the other side. A passageway clogged with smoke and flame.

Think
like Ghost. What would he do?

Punch
ran to the fire point. Breathing apparatus. He took out an oxygen cylinder and
struggled to release the valve. He strapped it to his back and buckled the
harness. So heavy he almost toppled backward. He tugged on the face-mask.

Rawlins
drilled the crew once a month. A three-step procedure in the event of fire:

Seal
the doors.

Put
on a mask.

Find
the nearest fire suppression wall box. Smash the glass. Pull the lever. Trigger
the deluge system

Punch
ran to a wall box. He smashed the glass with his elbow. He yanked the red lever
to On. Nothing happened. He tried it twice more. Nothing. The lever should have
released the Inergen gas system. Ceiling valves should have flooded the
corridors with an inert mix of argon, nitrogen and carbon dioxide, and choked
the fire. Punch ripped off his mask.

'Sian,
why the fuck haven't the suppressors kicked in?'

Punch
unravelled a fire hose. He twisted the stop-cock. The hose swelled. He trained the
low-pressure stream at the blast door. Water gulped and sputtered. It splashed
against the hatch and fizzled like spit on a hot plate.

'This
is fucked,' he muttered. He threw down the hose and took out his radio. 'I'm
coming up top. There's not much I can do down here.'

Punch
joined Sian on the helipad. He threw her a coat.

'Nothing
from Ghost and Jane?'

'Nothing,'
said Sian.

'Ivan
knows how to operate the crane. He can lower me on to the roof.'

Punch
stood alone on the helipad. He pulled a silver, fire-retardant proximity suit
over his survival gear. The suit was comically big. He had to roll up the
sleeves.

He
buckled a SCBA cylinder to his back. The sun had set. He looked up at a
fabulous dusting of stars.

Worse
ways to go, he thought. Die fighting. Die for your friends.

There
was a heavy freight crane mounted on the deck between the accommodation blocks.
Sian and Ivan could swing him from one roof to another.

He
could see them in the cab. Ivan at the controls. Sian crouched beside him.

Punch
waved. They swung the jib and lowered the hook. There was a cargo pallet hung
from the hook, a wooden platform suspended by a chain.

Punch
pulled on his face-mask. He stepped on to the platform. He gave a thumbs up.
They swung him towards the burning accommodation module.

Jane
and Ghost crouched in the stairwell. The air was thick with hydrogen sulphide.
Ghost struggled to stay conscious. His eyelids drooped like he wanted to sleep.
Jane crouched over him and pressed the mask to his face. She snatched the mask
away and took a gulp of oxygen every few seconds.

The
blast door raised. A slight figure in an oversized silver suit. Punch, smiling
through the polycarbonate visor.

'Let's
get out of here, shall we?' His voice was muffled by his mask.

They
hurried down the corridor. They supported Ghost between them. He started to
revive.

Ivan
sat in the crane cab. Sian stood at his shoulder. 'Punch, do you copy, over?
Punch?'

The
wind changed. The cab was enveloped in black smoke from the burning accommodation
block.

'We
must go,' said Ivan.

'Wait.'

'I
don't want to get caught up here. Nine-eleven. Jump-or- burn. I don't need it.'

'Just
wait.'

They
ran past Medical.

'Wait,'
said Jane. She ran inside. She flapped open a red body- waste bag. 'We have to
save as much as we can.'

She
swept armfuls of drugs into the bag. Ghost opened a cupboard and filled a bag
with dressings and hypodermics.

Punch
stood by the door. The floor felt soft and sticky. He lifted his boot. The
rubber sole of his shoe had begun to melt. He crouched and held his hand over
the deck plate. Fierce heat. The level beneath them must be ablaze.

'Folks,
we need to leave this instant.'

'Go,'
said Jane. 'I'm right behind you.'

They
ran for the roof. Ghost pushed Punch on to the cargo pallet.

'You
go,' said Ghost. 'I'm waiting for Jane.'

'. . .
Emergency stations. Fire warning. Emergency stations.
Fire warning
. .

The
crew mustered in the canteen. They kicked off their heavy
boots and zipped themselves into
survival suits: insulated wetsuits designed to keep a man alive if he fell into
the sea and was immersed in heart-stopping cold. Each man checked his buddy's
suit seals and life jacket.

Nail
zipped a deck of cards into his suit. Essential supplies. He instinctively retreated
to the gym equipment in the corner of the canteen. His territory. His kingdom.
He was joined by Mal, Gus and Yakov.

'Any
idea what's going on?'

'Keep
seeing Punch run back and forth,' said Nail. 'Fucker won't look me in the eye.'

He
sniffed.

'Smell
that? Burning plastic. If we all sit here waiting for someone to kiss it
better, we'll choke.'

'Can
we kill that fucking announcement, at least?' said Gus. 'It's driving me nuts.'

Nail
ran to Rawlins's office. Empty. He sat at the desk. He checked the screen. The
adjacent habitation block flashed red. Fire alerts on every level. He switched
on the PA and grabbed the mike.

'All
stations. All stations. Abandon rig. Abandon rig.'

The
cargo platform swung towards the helipad. Punch touched down.

He
ran down the stairwell towards the canteen. Thick smoke. Alarms and strobes.

'. . .
All stations. All stations. Abandon rig. Abandon rig
. . !

We're
going to lose the whole fucking refinery.

What
would Ghost do?

Punch
stood on a chair in the canteen and clapped for attention.

'Okay,
folks. We're out of here.'

He
led the crew down the smoke-filled stairway. They coughed. Their eyes streamed.
He counted them off as he pushed them into an airlock. One man down.

He
found Nail lying unconscious on the stairs. He gripped Nail's ankles and
dragged him to the airlock.

They
sealed themselves inside. They were choking. Three men puked.

Punch
shouldered the exterior door. They whooped freezing air.

'We
need to get to the boathouse. The elevators are out of action. We'll have to
use the ladders.' The evacuation order was relayed to the crane cab.

'We
must go,' said Ivan.

'What
about Jane and Ghost?' said Sian.

'I
am sorry for your friends.'

He
climbed down the ladder to the deck. Sian stayed in the cab. She sat in the operator's
seat and tried to make sense of the controls.

'Ghost?
Jane? Do you copy, over?'

Ghost
ran to Medical. Acrid smoke.

Jane
was still throwing drugs and equipment into bags.

'What
the fuck are you doing, girl?'

'Help
me.'

They
hurried up the stairs. They dragged bags.

Alarms.
Smoke. Warning strobes.

'Who
gave the evacuation order?'

'Sounded
like Nail,' said Jane.

'I
saw people down on the docking platform. They were climbing into the zodiac.'

'We
can't abandon the rig. Without it we are fucked.'

'We
don't have a choice,' said Ghost. 'There's plenty of octane distillate left in
the pipes. Soon as the fire reaches the injection pumps this place will
detonate like a fucking H-bomb.'

They
reached the roof.

Driving
smoke. They couldn't see the crane cab.

'Sian?
Ivan? Do you copy?'

Ghost
checked his radio. Low battery warning.

He
stood at the edge of the roof and yelled.

'Sian.
Ivan.'

He
looked down. White furnace heat.

Eight
men in the zodiac. The boat rode low in the water. Overloaded. The outboard laboured.
They weaved between pack ice.

They
reached the island. They lifted Nail ashore. They carried him up the jetty
steps to the bunker door.