Terrorbyte by Cat Connor Page B

door and took the phone from me, shaking his head and saying, “This time I do know where we are.” There was a touch of surprise in his voice. Directions weren’t something I usually had to ask for, let alone something he was usually able to give.
    Something was very wrong. I leaned closer to him. Rain poured, taking the scent of chlorine with it.
    I grabbed the phone back from Mac and spoke into it. “There is chlorine present at the scene. You will need hazmat gear with self-contained breathing apparatus for the body recovery. We have no way of knowing how potent the chlorine is or the quantity involved.”
    The voice on the phone confirmed what I’d said and hung up.
    Mac stared at me. “I didn’t smell it!”
    â€œIt’s all over you. You have spare clothes?”
    â€œOf course. How bad is it?”
    â€œTake your clothes off, all of them … and thank God it’s raining hard.”
    He looked at me in absolute horror as he began peeling off his saturated clothes. I returned to our car and found him clean stuff from our bags, plus a large plastic bag for his contaminated clothing.
    â€œHow bad, Ellie?”
    â€œIt’s highly toxic and irritates the respiratory system. It can form hydrochloric acid inside your lungs by reacting with the water in the mucosa.” Take no prisoners. “It causes burns especially to eyes, mouths, airways. It’s also flammable; just add a spark and it’s an instant firebomb.”
    â€œAnd it’s in our drinking water and our swimming pools?” Mac said. “That’s just fuc’n fantastic.”
    â€œAt safe levels.”
    While pondering the scariness of the strong chlorine and Mac’s inability to smell it, I donned two pairs of latex gloves – not easy to do in the rain – and went to have a look at the car. Chlorine gas is heavier than air and settles low. I attempted to reach the driver’s side of the wreck and slipped in the mud at the edge of the road. Hauling myself back to my feet was difficult. Mud covered my jeans and tee shirt and it began to act like sticky body armor, causing my movements to stiffen as my clothes grabbed my skin.
    I stood by the driver. I knew I couldn’t bend down near him, because a greenish gas was visible about his knees. His body smelled strongly of chlorine. His head was turned, facing away from me. The airbag was fully deflated so it was easy to reach him. I noted he wore his seat belt.
    â€œSir?”
    I shook my hand hard hoping to dislodge some of the mud. The charms on my bracelet sent mud in all directions. I reached into his neck and felt for a pulse.
    I couldn’t feel anything.
    Moving my fingers under his jaw, I tried again.
    Nothing.
    I went for his wrist.
    â€œI can’t find a pulse.”
    I sloshed away from the car. The smell was unbearable; it began to irritate my nose. A large puddle near the rear tire gave me somewhere to wash my gloved hands. I didn’t want chlorine on me, no matter how little.
    I felt Mac’s hands on my shoulders. “Police and ambulance are on their way with a hazmat team and all the gear. There are landslides and flooding, so some parts of roads are blocked with debris … might take them a little while to get through.”
    â€œCan you smell it now?” I asked. With the car door open, gas was leaching out into the rainy atmosphere, drifting under the car and around the front tires.
    â€œYeah, smells like a swimming pool.”
    â€œDid you notice anything about the body?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy was the driver looking at the passenger seat? Maybe he turned his head instinctively on impact – but what if there was a passenger?”
    I looked up at Mac; rain ran into my eyes as I did so. It stung. It really stung. The rain had washed the leave-in conditioner from my hair into my eyes. I found a moderately clean piece of my shirt and wiped some of the tainted water