Private Hughes pulled himself over to the gaping opening in the side of the aircraft; the door had been ripped off in the crash. Leaning out into the ferocious downwash, he could see the problem clearly. 'It's no good sir. The skids are wedged in good. The forward struts have snapped but the rear ones are holding us fast.' He looked up just in time to see another of the glowing rocks slam into a nearby apartment block, shattering the few remaining windows and starting fires across several floors.
He had to cut through those struts. What tools did he have? Just one. Jamie reached for a spare. 50 cal magazine.
Royal Hallamshire Hospital, Western Sheffield
Rebecca Burdett stared out through the empty window frame at the vast lake of smoking lava that mere minutes before had been the university campus. From her vantage point on the seventeenth floor she could see countless human forms running, staggering and crawling away from the inferno. Everwhere she looked people were dying, caught by the flames, collapsing under the heat or obliterated by a flaming boulder.
She turned away. There was no doubt about it, the hospital had to be abandoned. The lava seemed to be flowing away from them for now, but several of the hospital buildings had been hit by the boulders and looked ready to collapse. The ground fires were advancing steadily despite the inrushing air and the earthquake showed no signs of abating.
The fire alarm was already blaring, but the nurses she could see were still transfixed by the scene outside. 'Snap out of it! We have to move!' Rebecca sprinted through the ward to the reception area, where she snatched up the microphone for the P.A. system.
'Everyone, your attention please. This is Matron Burdett. The hospital must be evacuated as quickly and calmly as possible.' She delivered the words with a slightly eerie calm. 'Patients, if you can walk, go to the lobby area via the stairwells, do not use the lifts. Otherwise please wait for a member of staff to assist you. Do not leave the building. Transport will be arranged.'
Rebecca clicked the microphone off, then pulled out her phone and punched the button for reception. The extension for reception was busy, of course. Cursing, she dived into the stairwell, pushing past the throngs of people that built up steadily as she descended. By the time she emerged into the lobby it was already packed with shouting and screaming patients.
'PLEASE REMAIN CALM' she shouted, in a tone that did not sound like a request. 'THERE IS NO IMMEDIATE DANGER.' Not really true but it seemed to placate the crowd for now. 'Non-critical patients, move in an orderly fashion to the car park. We don't have nearly enough ambulances for you all so we'll be using private cars.'
She finally made it to the reception desk. David was usually pretty competent but he seemed ready to have a nervous breakdown. 'Rebecca, thank…' He caught himself.
'What the hell is going on?'
'Don't know. Some sort of attack, massive fires. We have to get the patients out, that's all that matters.'
'I tried to call Northern General but I couldn't get…'
'Forget it. They're probably in the same boat as us, or will be soon. Now take Tracy, Mark and anyone else you find on the way and get to the car park. I don't want anyone leaving without a full load of patients. Tell them to go straight to Manchester.'
'Manchester? But…'
Rebecca grabbed the man's shoulders. 'There's massive casualties out there. Everyone local will be overwhelmed. Now get moving.'
She grabbed the phone from David's hand as he stumbled away and searched through the memory for the number she needed. 'Whitworth? This is Matron Burdett at Royal Hallamshire. We've got a huge… explosion in Sheffield, we have to evacuate. I'm sending our intensive care patients to you… yes I know you don't have the capacity… you'll have to turn them out… no, listen, this is a gold-level disaster. No, I don't know who… look, I'm sure they'll contact you shortly. Meanwhile people are dying here. You are going to send every ambulance you have to Sheffield and you are going to do it now, understand? Good.'
MD 902 G-SYPS
'Control this is Sierra Yankee Nine Nine do you copy? Over.'
Sergeant Webster was still trying to get the radio working. Meanwhile Private Hughes struggled to find a position in which he could get a shot at the rear support strut. He could see the target clearly enough, it was buried in a tangle of metal half a meter beneath the door sill, but with his broken leg there was just no way to aim the heavy rifle at it from inside the cabin. He considered shooting through the airframe, the AS50 undoubtedly had the power to punch through, but he'd be firing blind and in any case he was pretty sure the main fuel tank was under the cabin. Bad idea.
'Control this is Sierra Yankee Nine Nine do you copy? Over.'
'Oliver! I copy. What the blazes is going on? First we thought we'd lost you, then we got a report you’d landed at Sheffield City Heliport. Everything has dropped in the pot here, nobody knows what is happening. Just what is your status, over?' The communications channels were clearing and the response from the command centre at Atlas Court included the alarms and a commotion of voices in the background.
'We were knocked down by the blast, my bird is seriously damaged. Can you see what's happening out here? Over.'
'Confirmed, we're seeing it over CCTV, hell we can see it out the windows. We're preparing to evacuate, at this rate the lava will be here in less than half an hour. Are you airworthy over?'
'Negative control, we're stuck in a roof, the lava is about to surround the building. Need a pick-up urgently, Over.'
There was a slight pause before the duty officer responded. 'Sierra Yankee, army choppers are inbound but the closest is still ten minutes out. Over.'
'Acknowledged control.' Sergeant Webster hadn't expected anything else. Every commander would be in triage mode now and plucking a helicopter crew off the top of a doomed building wasn't a high priority. 'Situation understood. Sierra Yankee Nine Nine out.'
Private Hughes had been listening to the exchange and cut in over the intercom. 'Sir, I think I can free the helo but I'll have to climb out onto the roof.'
Webster gave it only a moment's consideration; there was no viable alternative. 'Roger Private, we'll hover until you're back on board.'
Jamie unplugged his headset and clambered out onto the twisted girders, gritting his teeth at the pain that flared in his leg. The metal was hot to the touch and the blistering heat and swirling smoke was making it increasingly hard to see or breathe. Once he'd steadied himself he grabbed the heavy rifle from the helicopter and began to work himself into a braced position. The pilot was watching him through the cockpit side window; Jamie give him the thumbs up and the engine noise intensified, as the helicopter once more struggled to lift off.
There it was, the near-side support strut clearly visible now that the helicopter's belly was clear of the corrugated iron roofing. He pulled the scope off the rail and lined up the AS50 with the iron sights, bracing it against a girder. Two sharp cracks and the job was done, the. 50 caliber rounds shredding the aluminum alloy tube. The helicopter lurched upward again and shuddered, straining against the last remaining strut. Jamie struggled to maintain his balance as the roof started to collapse, chunks of metal tumbling down into the building below. A fresh wave of heat hit him and with horror he realized that the lava was already pouring into the building. Jamie swung the heavy rifle around and unloaded his last three rounds into the tangle of metal around the back of the remaining skid.
The recoil was the final straw for the critically weakened factory roof. With a shrieking groan the entire section collapsed into the burning interior. With both skids now sheered off the Explorer leapt upwards into the sky, climbing away from the collapsing ruin. The last thing Private Hughes saw was the underside of the helicopter vanishing into the sky.
South Yorkshire Fire and Rescue HQ, Central Sheffield
The screens in the control centre normally showed simple dots representing the incident sites. Only for the worst industrial fires did the staff have to draw rings around the affected area. Now the entire centre of the city was marked in red, and that stain was growing rapidly.
'…and a second line of firebreaks here, here and here. That should save most of Hillsborough and Stannington. The lower Rivelin valley is a write off, the best we can hope for is that it floods fast enough to save a few buildings. We'll worry about Fullwood if we get time, industrial areas take priority. Now get to it.'
