The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [139]
“You told him how to do it?” Caroline asked her father. She and Otis shared the love seat, but at opposite ends.
Wilson admitted that, sure, he’d answered Otis’s many questions about how to construct a breeder reactor—but he’d thought it was all theoretical!
“I did it, Granddad!” Otis said, clenching his fists on his thighs. “I got all the parts myself, and figured out how to put them together and it worked. It actually worked!”
“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Wilson said. “No doubt about that. You’re a genius, son. You really are.” There was pride in his voice as well as bafflement.
Otis rocked back and forth, a smile on his face, and it was similar to the way Ava paced when she was happy or excited. This was what he’d been wanting. His grandfather’s praise.
“Otis didn’t protect himself,” Vic told Wilson. “He only used a paper mask and gardening gloves. You failed to impress upon him how dangerous those elements are.”
“But I did!” Wilson said. “I told him that real radioactive research is done in full protector gear, in sealed chambers with lead-lined gloves!” Then he paused and his tone changed. “At least I think I did. No, I know I did.”
“You did,” Otis said cheerfully, still not, Marylou thought, grasping the enormity of what he’d done.
“It’s our fault, Vic,” Caroline said, “for not paying attention. We should’ve been monitoring what he was doing.” Even so, she couldn’t help making excuses for Otis. Arguing his case. While she talked, Marylou watched Otis, wondering how he felt being dissected like a specimen in front of his family. His blank, handsome face revealed nothing.
Caroline said she’d been talking to him about the consequences of what he’d done, and she realized that being on the autism spectrum had prevented him from thinking things through, from evaluating the possible consequences. He’d gotten caught up in the scientific possibilities, in doing something nobody had ever done before. It wasn’t because he lacked empathy. He just had a one-track mind. All he could focus on was the attention he’d get if he succeeded and the glory that would be heaped upon him, the thrill of being crowned a young scientific genius. Heck, she said, probably most of the scientists working on the atomic bomb had an autism spectrum disorder. What else would explain their lack of foresight?
“You’re in good company, son,” Wilson said.
“That’s hardly relevant,” Vic snapped.
“Well, at least the shed’s gone,” Marylou said. “Hopefully the EPA got it all.”
“You put that deadly stuff in our yard,” Vic said. “Next to our house.”
“That’s bad,” Wilson agreed.
“Ohhhhh,” Ava howled.
Suzi started crying. “We won’t ever be able to live there again.”
Marylou patted her hand.
“We haven’t seen the EPA report yet,” Otis said. “The levels might be in the safe range. The federal government says that people can get up to five thousand mrems of safe exposure per year. There was only fifty last I checked. I think there was only fifty.”
“We won’t go back unless we know it’s safe,” Vic put in.
“How will we really know?” Suzi said, wiping her eyes.
“We won’t,” Caroline said.
“I’m sorry,” Marylou told Vic and Caroline. “I suspected for a while that he was messing with radiation, but by then it was too late. Course, it doesn’t scare me, ’cause I’m already radioactive.” She’d meant to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.
“There’s more bad news,” Caroline said. She stood up, scooped Parson up into her arms, and held her like a flopped-eared baby. And Marylou had thought Buster was spoiled.
“We just got a call,” Ava added, round-eyed with all the drama. “Buff is dead.”
“What?” Marylou grabbed Wilson’s hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. “How?” was all she could manage to say.
“Somebody came into his house while he was asleep,” Vic said. “Smashed his head with a baseball bat.”
“Oh my God,” Wilson muttered.
“That’s horrible.” Marylou sagged with relief. Not that he was dead, but that she hadn’t been the one