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Los Angeles had more alarms per capita than any other place on earth. However, there were just a handful of buildings and absolutely no house alarms that could raise the hairs on the back of the neck like the Archer ICARUS lockdown alarm did when it tripped in the LA County Emergency Operations Center. The percentage of false alarms made even the most conscientious person staffing the EOC somewhat blasé about their job. Over ninety-five percent of all alarms were false, so it was understandable that nobody jumped out of their seats when they heard an alarm trip during their shift.
Unless it was the ICARUS alarm.
At first, the operator monitoring the big board at the Emergency Operations Center didn’t know what the ICARUS alarm was. He had to look it up in his manual, after climbing back into his chair. He had jumped up so fast at the sound of the damn thing; tipping over on his swivel chair. Righting himself, he mustered his professional training and calmly but quickly leafed through the pages of the EOC Red Book until he found the ICARUS details, outlined in bold red letters on a yellow page that had the poison “skull and crossbones” symbol in half-tones in the background. When he read the words “Biological and Chemical Warfare Facility” and then the ICARUS code “HS”, which was flashing on his monitor as he read; “HS” for Hazardous Spill, well he went ape-shit.
He called the police, the fire department, the Army, HAZMAT Central, and the CDC. He raised the alarm with every agency on his speed-dial phone. He then called his supervisor, who called his supervisor at home in bed, who called his supervisor and so on. Then, after he had raised hell with everyone on his list, the operator reached for his maps of LA County to find out just where the hell the Archer Foundation was located. He traced the co-ordinates from the index C1 and J6 to locate the building. He paused for just a moment as he counted the blocks from Archer to his own home and then speed-dialed the last number on his phone and told his wife to grab the kids and drive to her mother’s house in Santa Barbara.
Only then, after he had notified everyone he could think of, did the operator sit back and relax for just a second. He ran through his actions of the last few minutes, making sure he didn’t forget any steps, and then he thought of his favorite television news hour and wondered if they would replay his alarm tapes when they reported tonight’s events. That would depend on how hairy it got out there at Archer. As much as he wanted to get his face on television, he hoped the alarm was a false one. He hoped it was like the other ninety-five percent. Somehow, he had the feeling it wasn’t.
Police arrived at the Archer Building first and cordoned the street off. SWAT was on the way, just behind the fire department. The Police Chief, a blustery fellow by the name of Wiggins, screamed through the cordon and set up a command headquarters in the parking lot. He could see black smoke billowing out of the roof vents. He could see the steel walls barricading the front entrance to the building. What he couldn’t see was any evidence of biological or chemical agents, but he would not take any chances.
“Nobody goes inside until I give the word!” yelled Wiggins over a bullhorn. “Evacuate the area. Get gas masks for everybody. We sit and contain. No one goes in. Not the SWAT team. Not the Fire Department. Nobody. Contain the perimeter and wait until we know just what the fuck we’re dealing with!”
Wiggins put down his megaphone as the smoke intensified. That didn’t look good at all. He reached for his gas mask and pulled it over his face. Behind him, the fire trucks arrived, but they weren’t going anywhere. Nobody was going anywhere. Christ, who let them build a place like this near a residential neighborhood? He saw the wind blow the smoke towards a neat little housing development on the other side of the road and all he could think about was how long it was going to take to get those people out of bed and out of their homes.
He turned to his Deputy Chief, staring at him through the goggles of his gas mask. “How long before the HAZMAT squad arrives?”
The man just stood there, staring at Chief Wiggins. Wiggins spun the man around and shoved him towards the communication van twenty feet away, “Go find out, dammit!”