Jeff Billings walked the floor of the refinery checking gauges. He was nearing the end of his shift. It was Thursday night and he was bone tired and ready to go home. He only had his last rounds to do, and then he was off for the next three days. He planned on going fishing with his brother. He couldn’t wait.
Jeff had worked for Coalition Refineries for over a decade. He worked hard from day one, and his efforts had not gone unnoticed. His career at Coalition Refineries began fresh out of high school where he started as an operator, responsible for the desalter unit, a complex piece of equipment that rids crude oil of natural salts before it enters the next stage of refining. It was a critical step not only for the quality of the product, but also for the life of the machinery.
Jeff was pulled from floor operations and put on a management track early on. He climbed the ladder fast, adapting well to the administrative life, but he still loved the technical side of the business. Whenever Jeff spoke of the details behind the crude oil refinery process, he spoke of them with pride. Now he was a process engineer manager, responsible for leading the efforts of over twenty operators, as well as overseeing the quality of the product and the maintenance of the facility. If there were any equipment related problems in his sector, it was Jeff’s responsibility to solve them.
He’d been a P.E.M. of Coalition Refinery #7, the Coalition’s third largest refinery, for the past two years. Located in Louisiana, #7 as it was called, refined over five hundred thousand barrels of crude oil a day. The facility itself was over three hundred acres of pipes, tanks, warehouses, and refinery equipment. It was all computer controlled with state of the art technology, and other than a few minor technical issues, Jeff’s time in management had been a problem-free tenure.
There had been an enormous spill on the previous manager’s watch, one that had caused considerable environmental damage, and it had cost that man his job. But for Jeff, the disaster had created opportunity. He just had to keep things running smoothly, which, with the upgraded technology, wasn’t too hard.
Jeff’s end of shift routine was easy. He’d simply check all readouts of his sector, engage in a bit of small talk with his men, and then go home. It was a relatively stress-free job and one that paid well. And he was lucky to have it. The computer systems did most of the work these days, and his crew kept getting smaller and smaller. It was only a matter of time before Jeff’s job would also be automated, and he knew it. But Jeff was in good with the boss, and he had been reassured that his job was safe for the foreseeable future. Jeff had no reason to suspect that today would be different from any other day.
His first indication that things would be otherwise was a pipe shudder that shook the whole of building seven, followed by the eardrum breaking sound of an alarm.
Jeff dropped his clipboard and ran toward the control booth.
“It’s shutting off, all of it,” said Bill Caldwell, one of Jeff’s senior operators.
Jeff entered the control room and watched as Bill desperately hit buttons on the control board to no effect.
Both men froze as the building shuddered once again, several pipes throughout the refinery shaking this time, setting off a multitude of alarms.
“Dear Jesus. Jeff, look at this,” Bob said to his boss.
Jeff looked to the control panel. There were a dozen display monitors, all showing the same words: GET OUT. NOW.
“What the fuck do we do?” Bob said.
“Get out now, don’t you think? Tell everyone—get out of the building. Do it now,” Jeff said, before sprinting out of the control room and onto the refinery floor.
The refinery floor was pandemonium. Operators were in a panic as the refinery operations slowly ground to a halt.
“Everyone out. Get out now,” Jeff screamed as he ran in the opposite direction from the exit.
Jeff knew what was happening, even if he didn’t know why. Something had gone horribly wrong, something dangerous, and the emergency shutdown of the refinery had been activated.
He knew what would happen next. The doors would seal shut, trapping the workers inside the building. He had to get to the operations booth above the floor to stop it.
Jeff ran across the refinery floor and hustled up the steel ladder to the crosswalk that led to the operations booth. When he arrived, all the lights in the facility started going out.
He scanned over the facility from the higher vantage point, and his eyes went wide when the darkness revealed a small fire at the base of the largest pipe, the pipe responsible for bringing in fresh crude.
He had less than five minutes before the emergency doors would shut, trapping those left to face a fiery death. Jeff would not let that happen.
He ran inside the operations control booth, only to find another operator working the controls.
“What the hell is going on?” he yelled.
“Everything’s shutting down,” the operator yelled back.
“Is it the fire?”
“I can’t say. But the computer systems are dead. They’re not responding to any commands or overrides.”
“What about backups?”
“Nothing’s working, Jeff. We’re losing everything.”
“The doors are closing in less than three minutes. We’ve got to get out.”
Jeff didn’t need to say it twice.
Both men hustled out of the operations booth, climbed down the ladder, and sprinted across the refinery floor.
Jeff could see the large bay doors up ahead. They were beginning to close.
“Let’s go!” he yelled, as both he and the operator sprinted toward the door as fast as their legs would move.
Jeff got to the door first and waited for the operator to squeeze through. Jeff immediately followed—the doors ripping through his shirt and deep into his skin because he barely fit through—before the doors closed behind him. He was out.
Jeff did a quick head count. He sighed in relief as he confirmed all of his men had made it out of the building. The sound of emergency vehicles fast approaching provided a small sense of relief.
Bill Caldwell approached, his face covered in sweat. “Everyone got out.”
“Thank God. And the crude?”
“Contained. No leaks.”
“What the hell happened, Jeff?”
Jeff looked over the building. Wisps of black smoke drifted from several vents. “I have no idea.”