The Twist of Fate

By David R. Grigg

"There were human bones spilling loosely from the inside of the crater, falling with the black earth in which they had been embedded to partially obscure the still-hot layer of glass that covered the bottom."

What caused the mysterious explosion which tore apart the research center and spread radioactive pollution over the city? It was Stephen Tang's job to find out. But what he discovered was even more terrifying than the original blast.

Novelette, approx 12,500 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David R. Grigg
• Release date: Sep 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9780994256638

David R. Grigg

David Grigg is a retired software developer who lives in Melbourne, Australia. He worked in the field of interactive multimedia for over two decades, and has also worked in public relations and as a journalist and sub-editor. During the 1970s and 1980s, David was deeply involved in the science fiction fan community, publishing fanzines and helping organize SF conventions, eventually becoming Chairman of the 43rd World SF Convention held in Melbourne in 1985. In recent years he has returned to his old love of writing fiction. He is the author of a number of professionally published short stories and two short fantasy novels for teens. Collections of his stories and novels are available for purchase on his website at: https://rightword.com.au/writing. You can also find him at https://megatheriums.com and https://narratorium.com.

Book preview

The Twist of Fate

by

David R. Grigg

(C) Copyright David R. Grigg 2017. All rights reserved.

There were human bones spilling loosely from the inside of the crater, falling with the black earth in which they had been embedded to partially obscure the still-hot layer of glass that covered the bottom.

Stephen Pham Tang, standing gingerly at the crumbling edge of this utterly impossible crater, looked down at the bones, appalled. Surely there had not been so many killed by the blast? But then he remembered. Before the research institute had been built here, this had been the Melbourne General Cemetery. The catastrophic and still mysterious explosion here had killed hundreds, and thousands more were yet to die. But what he now saw were merely the relics of the long-dead.

It was hot, too hot. It was one of those blazing summer days that, as you awaken from an exhausting sleep, even at dawn greets you with the threat of its heat to come. Far too hot to be cooped up in an ill-fitting and all-enclosing radiation suit. Stephen felt as though his dripping sweat was pooling in his boots. He kept wishing vainly that he could wipe his eyes, to get rid of the blinding perspiration.

He couldn't even work out why he was here. He looked around again. The other scientists were hard at work, their bright yellow suits somehow wildly incongruous amidst this devastation. But then, the whole scene was incongruous: this landscape of shattered buildings standing like the columns of some ancient ruin in a circle around a two-hundred-metre wide crater at the centre.

There was work to be done, of course, important work. Even as he thought it, he started looking about for useful samples to pick up. But surely Samphan could have given this work to more junior workers? This was the work of laboratory assistants, not middle-aged physicists like himself.

Grumbling to himself, he bent down and picked up a piece of glass, shattered from some window. There should be particle tracks within the material which would give them some clues. He put it inside one of the plastic bags they had given him. Even that was stupid, he thought. The bulldozers whose roar now filled his ears were already removing tonnes of irradiated glass and brick from the ruins. Surely that material could be studied just as profitably as anything he could pick up. But then he gave up his internal complaints. Probably Samphan wanted to bring the researchers face to face with the reality of last week's incredible event, to shock them into a feeling of the urgency of their task, the question that they must answer, and quickly: what on earth had happened here?

For Stephen Tang, it had begun with wakening in terror, finding himself screaming with panic: My God! What was that? His scream had followed by the barest instant the thundering crash that had awoken him, rattling the windows.

Everyone in the crammed house where he lived had surged out of their rooms into the street, as had their neighbours, many as stark naked as they had slept in the hot night. He himself had felt the same panicky need to get out of his claustrophobic room, perhaps subconsciously fearing an earthquake, or more likely, the long-dreaded return of the missiles. They were, after all, now at war again. And, as if to fuel his fears and agonising childhood memories, from behind the night-eclipsed hills there had risen a distant glowing cloud like some mockery of the sun.

His fears had been justified, at least in part. What had that night awoken most of the millions who packed the city had indeed been