After 9/11, when the US government realized how woefully under prepared they were to cope with a large scale attack on US soil, an extensive document called the National Response Framework was drafted. Contained within this tome are 15 disaster scenarios and detailed Federal and local response plans. The first and probably most feared potential scenario was given the heading, Planning Scenario 1: Nuclear Detonation. While Washington D.C was used in the planning, the set-up could be applied in the occasion of a nuclear detonation in any major city.
On a hazy, hot, already fear filled day, Planning Scenario 1 became a reality.
When the blast went off in Valencia, everything within a 1/3 of a mile was nearly vaporized, buildings reduced to rubble and flesh seared from bones. 15,000 lives were lost in an instant of intense, painful heat, light and a wave of pressure. Anyone .6 - 1 mile from the epicenter had a moment to register the flash of detonation before a wave of pressure and heat overcame them. Buildings in that radius were severely damaged and people suffered massive burns, crushed organs, impact wounds and debris injuries. Outside that area, extending to the 3 mile mark, the shockwave caused lighter structural damage and human injuries, however the streets and highways became clogged with drivers blinded by the thermal flare. Days later, the tally was that approximately 1000 people were permanently blinded and another 3000 had some hope of recovering their sight.
In a matter of seconds, a 10 kiloton bomb containing enriched Uranium rendered a 3 square mile area of California a Nuclear hot zone. Odd, that in an age where the treat of nuclear was is lower than it has been in decades, that the threat of nuclear attack is exponentially increased. And now, no longer theoretical.
Moments after reports of the blast, the NRF launched into effect. Less than 4 minutes later, President Palmer ordered DEFCON 1 and government officials were hustled off to COG bunkers. Still too distant to do anything but observe in horror, response teams watched in horror as the mushroom cloud rose to 14,000 ft., then began to drop fallout as the winds shifted. The initial descent of the fallout contaminated people caught outside or in cars, though intact building did offer some protection from exposure. 15,000 dead. 15,000 wounded. 50,000 exposed.
A multi-tiered plan was immediately enacted, designed to both secure the country and deal with the catastrophic human tragedy. Following SOP, the military locked the country down. Operation SCATANA grounded all air traffic and the TSA, working in conjunction with Homeland Security halted all transport trucks, trains and ships. As ports are some of the least secure entry points into the country, with only 5% of all shipping containers searched, they began scouring for signs of residual radiation. Operating with the knowledge that Fayed was in possession of more than one additional nuclear device, the country was sealed off.
SDMAT- Special Disaster Medical Assistance Teams-, trained by FEMA, were called to duty and transported to California. But for some it was far too late. Everyone inside Zone 1 was dead, or, if they had somehow survived the initial blast, dying. Far too contaminated for rescue teams, no one would be able to enter Zone 1 for at least a week. Zone 2, where response personnel could see injured moving amongst contaminated rubble and fires, is also a hot zone, but one rescuers with appropriate gear could enter. Many injured there were exposed to high doses of radiation, which could cause death in as short a time as a mater of minutes.
The Dangerous Fallout Zone was another issue Search and Rescue personnel were faced with. Teams monitored wind patterns, so as to be able to predict the path of the fallout. It was a small mercy that the air currents carried the toxic cloud from Valencia, out over Oxnard, then to the ocean. Had the winds shifted and taken the cloud and it's deadly ash south to Los Angeles, the death toll would have been unimaginable.
The first responders, the Los Angeles Fire Department, arrived in their protective gear to evacuate people from Zone 3. LAFD Chief Nicholas Rivers became incident commander and an emergency command post was established in a sturdy, office building's lobby.
All around the country, the 400 members of NEST- Nuclear Emergency Search Teams- were rounded up and dispatched to LA to assist in the search for nuclear materials.
On site, LAFD and LAPD cordoned off the affected areas, assisting wounded civilians to medical care, but also keeping anyone from entering the hot zones. More people than anyone would have expected wanted to enter, to search for their missing loved ones, but response teams had to keep them out to limit contamination.
As more hazmat geared personnel arrived, RTR- Radiation Triage and Transport- sites were established to facilitate rescue personnel's access to victims. RTR 1 sites were erected in Zone 2, closest to the epicenter while RTR 2 sites flanked the DFZ. RTR 3 sites were outside the blast radius and prearranged medical centers were designated and supplied with personnel, as were assembly centers for those who were unhurt but displaced.
About 3 hours after the initial blast, the first members of CBIRF- Chemical Biological Incident Response Force- arrived. The highly trained search and rescue Marines headed in, cloaked in protective gear and dosed with Potassium Iodide, to Zone 2. Still, they could not enter Zone 1 or the DFZ. 100,000 died or were dying, waiting for help that simply could come.
CBIRF Marines are trained to minimize their own exposure, due to the fact that if they fall ill they would no longer be able to assist rescue operations. Equip with Dosimeters that beep when registering 45 RADS, it is at that point members of CBIRF are supposed to return to the Cool Zones for rest and decon showers. If a CBIRF Marine registers at 100 RADS or higher, they are pulled from the Hot Zones, as their exposure becomes dangerous. But any Marine would tell you, they'd risk themselves to save another.
Most people pulled from the wreckage were deposited at Casualty Collection Points, where medical corpsman were tasked with the ghastly duty of triage using the DIME system. Each patient was tagged with a colored label. Yellow- Delayed care okay. Red- Immediate care needed. Green- Minimal injuries. Black- Expectant death. Most red tags turned black in short order, as proper medical care was unavailable.
Less than 3 days after the blast, DMORTS- Disaster Mortuary Assistance Teams- began the gruesome task of identifying the bodies still being recovered. Tent cities of the dead were erected in open sports fields and along the River.
Despite the Dosimeters and rigorous scouring of decon showers, initial response CBIRF Marines began to test too high on the RAD scale and were ordered out of the hot zones. Determined to do their duties to best of their abilities, the accepted whatever roles they were assigned.
Which was how Master Sergeant Josephine Reese found herself at CTU, where the Incident Command Post had been relocated due to a need for clearer comm systems and Intel. Though not trained like her CBIRF team, the LAPD and LAFD had acquitted themselves remarkably well and a CTU agent managed to track down the other nuclear materials and the source, so that was one less worry for everyone.
Days after the detonation, search and rescue operations were in full swing and the local teams were working well in conjunction with the fresh military teams that arrived daily. The only fly in the ointment was Ben Graham, the schmuck in charge at the CTU, who seemed content to sit around with his thumb up his ass, whine about the former director of CTU and freak out whenever Jo, with her high RAD count got close to him.
Normally, she would have kept her distance from the slimy prick, but it was funny to watch him run away, so she hovered. It provided some much needed comic relief.
It quickly became evident that if they wanted any actual work to be done, they had to discretely circumvent Graham entirely and work with Nadia Yasir, who seemed to understand that Graham was a window licker.
Gathering up the latest series of reports she'd received from various CBIRF teams still in the field, Jo rose from the small desk she'd been assigned and went is search of Nadia. The other woman had taken to ducking in and out of the comms floor in order to avoid Graham. It was a sound defensive technique, especially since scooping the jag-off's testicals out with a melon baller and feeding them to him would probably be frowned upon.
Her black and white digital camo gear stood out amongst the neat suits and business casual gear of the CTU employees and uniforms of various police and fire department officers. Occasionally, a black BDU'd CTU field agent would wander by, but apparently a large number of them had died in the initial blast and they were a bit shell shocked.
Nadia emerged from one of the side offices, determined and not even sparing Jo a glance as she strode by. Following her gaze, the Marine took note of a handful of new arrivals. Of course she recognized Karen Hayes, the recently resigned National Security Advisor and the two men were vaguely familiar but the other woman was an unknown.
"Thank God," Nadia's soft exclamation carried and drew a few gazes from around the room. She waved the four of them over to the office she had exited, tossing a look up to see if Graham noticed their arrival. He hadn't and didn't notice as they disappeared into the room.
Immediately the murmurs began. Jo caught snatches of conversations, names. "Bauer…" the blond man. He'd been the major player in the successful recovery of the other nukes and the apprehension of individuals involved. After being assigned to the CTU, she'd heard about him and looked him up in the system. Even with huge chunks of his CV redacted for National Security reasons, it was clear he was a force to be reckoned with. "Mr. Buchanan…" the taller man, with silver hair well on it's way to going white. The former director of CTU, whom none of the staff were happy about losing, he was Ms. Hayes's husband. "Chloe O'Brien…" That was the woman, CTU's lead analyst, all around technical goddess and resident sarcastic wit. A lot of the things Jo heard about her had to do with her fabled relationship with Bauer. No one seemed to know quite how to categorize it, but the consensus was it was deep and mutual.
One of Graham's division lackeys started looking uppity, as though he was about to go and snitch on the arrival of Hayes and the others. Deciding they deserved a few minutes to try and sort out the cluster-fuck Graham had made of the situation, Jo stalked over to the tech and slammed a file down on the desk, making the man jump and look up at her.
"You call this a comprehensive situation overview?! I've seen a more thorough accounting of events in a third grader's 'What I did on my summer vacation' essay! Are you incompetent or merely stupid? Do it again and this time do it right!" One of the great things about the Corps was that everyone had the picture of a huge, terrifying drill sergeant in the back of their minds. All she had to do glare and shout, and if possible loom, and people tended to back down as though she was a lot scarier than she looked.
Which she was, but really a 5'8" Dutch/Portuguese/Chinese woman wasn't generally a scary sight…but add in the attitude and training of the Marine Corps and she could have men twice her mass cowering in fear.
The division lackey was nowhere near as tough as a green recruit and sunk back into his chair, eyes darting to the report, then up to Graham's office, where they could see the man chatting with someone on the phone. He winced and stammered, "I…I was just about to…."
"To redo that report," Jo snapped, flipping open the file, then physically spinning the man's chair back to the computer. "We need accurate Intel to co-ordinate our searches. I see you out of this chair before an updated and correct accounting is in my hand, you're gonna wish your ass was out there in the field, digging through toxic sludge. Are we clear?"
"I…"
"Are. We. Clear?"
The lackey swallowed and nodded, hunching over his keyboard. "Okay."
Straightening, she locked eyes with Captain Rivers who nodded. He shared her opinion that Graham needed a kick in the head and had some hopes that Buchanan, Hayes and the others could restore some order to the CTU. They had to be more effective that Graham. Hell, a drunk, dyslexic Tasmanian Devil would be better than that chimp in a suit.
They deserved a chance to sort shit out before Graham stuck his nose into things and started causing trouble. Handing off her carefully summarized reports to Rivers, Jo planted herself at the base of the stairs that led up to the office Graham had taken over. A few of the people on the floor gave her a funny look, but backed down under her glare.
The whole situation was totally FUBAR, but then again, the world was pretty damn FUBAR right now. It was their job to try and keep everything from snowballing into something completely insurmountable.
And if playing interference between effective people and the bureaucrats who just tossed more fuel on the fire, then so be it.
God, she so wished she was out in the field. Hauling irradiated people out of the hot zone so much easier than dealing with this crap.
TBC………..
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