#geiger meter

[bestpickme]

5 Best Geiger Counters of 2023

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🐔 or 🥚❓

[circleheads-art-world]

Magic Detector

[butchdykekondraki]

oh hes so fucking oblivious ^_^

[seinternational]

Can a Radiation Reader Detect Radiation That is Coming from Your Phone?

The camera sensors for smartphones can detect radiation before it reaches unsafe levels even if it is not as accurate as a traditional detector. Additionally, it can be used as a personal dosage estimator and an alarm for the presence of high radiation levels. Yes, (Complementary Metal Oxide Semiconductor) CMOS and (Charged Coupled Device) CCD cameras in smartphones and other devices can detect radiation.

The cameras are sensitive enough for many applications even though they are less sensitive than Geiger-Muller counters, specialized solid-state detectors, and scintillators. This setting helps to create the occasionally significant background noise different from the radiation signal. Scientists evaluated radiation detecting software on four cell phones, concluding that it functions effectively enough to serve as a first aid alarm system.

Although it won't be as sensitive as a typical detector, they claim it will be sufficient to detect radiation before it reaches lethal levels and serves as a reliable warning system. Gamma rays should, theoretically, be detectable by electronic cameras in mobile phones in the same way that visible light photons are. Scientists concluded that smartphones have enough processing capacity to use their in-built cameras to detect and quantify gamma radiation.

When incoming photons strike the electrons inside a pixel, a charge generates that an electrical circuit can use to detect light. As a result, cell phones unexpectedly turn into effective gamma radiation detectors (the camera body is likely to stop alpha and beta radiation).

If a minor part of radiation enters inside your body, it can also cause a detrimental impact on your health. The excess amount of radiation can be extremely dangerous. The main sources of radiation are cell phones, wireless networks, and x-ray machines. Even there are several sources of radiation in the environment every day.  

Let's examine the top 5 Android applications for radiation detection.

Android Radiation Detection App 1: Pocket Geiger.

It is among the top Android applications for radiation detection. Mobile phone microphones are used by pocket Geiger radiation detector apps to detect the presence of electromagnetic radiation (EMR). Simply said, this program turns the microphone into a reverse pin diode so it can measure EMR. This is the procedure. You can get Pocket Geiger for free from the Google Play store.

Android Radiation Detection App 2: Tawkon

As a result of our knowledge that radiation exists all around us, we can continue to be secure from it. The radiation emitted from any cell phone may be measured using the Tawkon app for Android. The tip that encourages you to emit the least amount of radiation level is the best feature of this radiation detection app for Android. It analyses and monitors radiation levels to minimize exposure. It continuously provides SAR information input.

Tawkon has several features which make it one of the top Android applications for radiation detection.

Android Radiation Detection App 3: Radioactivity Counter  

The third Android app to detect radiation has a name that already makes it apparent how it works. The radioactivity counter was created by experts in the field of EMF (electromagnetic field) or radiation for this app was one of the top radiation detection apps.

The main selling point of this application is its ability to measure radiation in the range of (ionizing radiation dose) 2-10 Gy to 1-10 Gy/h. Depending on the shielding employed in the cell phone, it can detect gamma radiation and greater beta radiation level. For $253, you can download this app to your smartphone.

EMF Radiation Detector and Radiation Meter are two Android apps to check for radiation.

Users may learn whether radiation is present using the Radiation Meter app.

The Radiation Meter app's operation is pretty straightforward; To detect the magnetic field surrounding you, it is the combination of the magnetic sensor of the Android phone.

It cannot be integrated with mobile devices that lack a magnetic sensor or magnetometer since it needs one. Field attractiveness is measured in T. (miniature tesla). The average EMF level is around 490mG or 49T (micro-Tesla) (Milli gauss). 1μT = 10mG. Upon identifying metal activity nearby, the micro-Tesla value increases.

Android Apps to Detect Radiation #5-Ultimate EMF Detector:

Users can use this app for free or with a paid membership. One of the better apps for detecting radiation is this one.

This software looks lovelier because of the many themes that are available (Graphics and UI).

This software uses a magnetic sensor to measure the presence of EMF and display readings from a line of LEDs and a needle meter. One of the top applications for 2020 is the Ultimate EMF detector app.

Key Takeaways

At S.E. International we understand that radiation exposure is unavoidable in certain industries. Our devices ensure your staff’s level of radiation exposure is acceptable. If you work in an industry where radiation exposure is a workplace hazard, you can contact SE International for your radiation detection products and services.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: this one's a bit shorter, next one will have smut, i am so fcking sleepy writing this i'll have to check tomorrow it this isn't a hallucination

Warnings: Horny Violence, Blood and Guts, Suggestive Themes, we're on a steady route to pound town

Summary: Cooper catches his prize, but an uninvited guest puts a strain on an already rocky relationship. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 1

You must be a Vault Dweller. Truly. There is no other way to explain the utter lack of self-preservation skills.

Cooper finds you almost immediately after the sun sets. He can see the flickering light of your small bonfire through the trees, and languidly, he stalks forwards, opting to stay in the shadows to observe you a moment longer. 

You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against a destroyed carcass of a plane. Hair pushed out of your face, Cooper can see the flames illuminating your focused expression with warm light. Once again, he's struck by this seemingly regal air around you. Like you've been raised in a castle, far from this fucked up place, that is now his home. A princess, stuck in harsh reality. Eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked hard between your teeth, you seem to be pondering over something.

With quick motions, you take your messenger bag, opening it and dumping its contents onto the ground in front of you. It's somewhat hard to see, but the sound of small glass bottles knocking into each other is telling enough. 

Taking stock of your inventory, you begin to tuck everything back into the bag. Chems upon chems, RadAway, RadX, quite the little drug library, and Cooper's eyes immediately lock onto his most sought after, amber liquid. Why would a Smoothie like you need any of that stuff is beyond him. He hasn't seen any Ghouls in the small town you hail from. 

Perks of the job, he thinks to himself, as you stack away at least five vials.

At the last bottle, you hesitate, bringing it up towards the light, and looking at it with a worried expression. The liquid swirls inside, and Cooper watches from the shadows, as you press the cold glass against your forehead in a motion eerily reminding him of a prayer. Your shoulders shudder, and Cooper's mangled ears strain, as he sees your mouth move.

- Let me be brave - you whisper to the vial, like some ancient spell, and something new tightens in his chest, something he immediately brushes away.

Then, he sees you lift a very familiar piece of equipment, putting it on your wrist, and begin to tweak something in the controls. A Pip-Boy. Old and battered, but apparently still working. All his confusing feelings are wiped clean in an instant. Now, he's truly intrigued. The clasps seem slightly too big for your hand, and the device slides the length of your arm, as you move. 

You sigh, heavily, then press something, and the Geiger meter clicks to life, picking up on stray radiation. Cooper feels his muscles tense, knowing all too well, why the device has activated so rapidly. As a Ghoul, he leaves a trail of radiation, that follows him wherever he goes. He wasn't particularly aware, that a Pip-Boy could pick up on it, but he wasn't surprised either.

 The sound makes you freeze in your spot. Slowly, you scan the area, your hand extended towards the darkening outline of the surrounding trees. As your hand passes by the place Cooper has chosen as his hiding spot, the meter grows louder. 

Jumping to your feet, you raise the blasted thing in front of you, your other hand tugging at the waistband of your skirt, freeing your trusted kitchen knife. As if to double-check, you put your hand somewhere to the back, listening to the quiet cracking noise. 

You can't fully confirm your suspicions on time, as Cooper springs to action. 

A thick line of rope falls over your shoulders, and before you have the chance to react, the loop around you tightens. Your entire body is tugged with surprising force in the direction of the treeline. Loosing your footing, you collapse onto the damp forest floor, chin scraping in the process. The yelp of shock tearing out of your throat, rings through the surrounding area, before you literally, eat dirt. The force of the impact wrenches the knife from your hand, as it bends at an uncomfortable angle. The weapon lands somewhere in the grass, the blade reflecting the flames.

Wiggling like a worm, trying to free yourself from the bounds, you notice a pair of well-worn shoes entering your vision. They cross the remaining distance, stopping just short of your head. Knees crack as your attacker squats down, before taking your hair into a hard grip and lifting your head from the dirt. 

Your face twists in pain, neck craning uncomfortably, and with an overwhelming feeling of finality, your eyes land onto the face of a ghoul. The Ghoul. He turns his head slightly to the side with the meanes of grins, before letting go of your hair, your head falling back into the dirt. 

- Oh, motherfucker - you groan, pulling your legs up, and attempting to get up.

- Stay down - the Ghoul's voice is rough and biting, and sudden pressure on your back pins you to the ground. - Do you know how fuckin' stupid it is, to light a fire in the wilderness? Any unsightly character could pick you off in seconds. 

Spitting out stray clumps of earth and grass from your mouth, you scoff at his scolding tone.

- Thankfully, there are no unsightly characters here, huh? 

- Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart. - the bounty hunter tugs the toe of his shoe under your side, and kicks up, turning your body.

You roll onto your back, throwing a nasty look at the Ghoul, as he secures the loop of his lasso. His eyes reflect the light in the most haunting of ways, and you squirm under his gaze, which drags itself across your body, stopping briefly at the tips of your breasts, peaking from under your shirt. Swallowing thickly, your muscles relax, in hopes of loosening the rope. It barely gives, but your limbs recover some wiggle room. 

Cooper blinks, his head jerking to the side, and only as he brings his hand up, do you register the gun in his hand. Making sure you can see it, he turns towards your messenger bag, grabbing it from the ground where you left it. 

He sits down, somewhere outside your field of vision, and you risk pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He doesn't seem to mind it now, too busy with rummaging through your belongings. Finally, he pulls out a vial of amber liquid, watching it swirl in the flickering light of the bonfire. 

- Now - Cooper starts, as he grabs the inhaler from his pocket, inserting the vial into it - Why would a backwoods healer have something like this on 'er?

Rolling your shoulders ever so slightly, the rope slides further down your arms, and you regard the Ghoul with a venomous rendition of a "are you fucking dumb?" look. Which he doesn't appreciate. His hands tremble, as he closes his mouth over the inhaler, taking a long hit, draining the entire vial. You try very hard, not to notice the low moan flowing out of him, as the drug enters his system. Or the way his eyes flutter blissfully for just a second. 

- You never know, who might be needing help... - you mutter, wincing at the biting pain in your limbs.

- Well ain't that considerate of you - he coughs into his gloved hand, before sighing deeply, his head reclining back against the plane's exterior, his eyes closed.

From where you're sitting, he looks weirdly handsome. Rugged and very much Ghoul-like, but handsome nonetheless. The skin of his neck is pulled taunt, and in the flickering light of a dying bonfire, you can see a myriad of scars, littering any surface of his skin that's visible. Still, there were other matters at hand, that needed your attention, and you try to shift in your seat as quietly as possible, slowly but surely sliding the rope down your body. 

- Next time you try to run away, I'll shoot you - your efforts are stilled by his warning tone, and by the way he waves his gun at you, you know he'll make good on this promise.

- Thought you needed me in good condition.

To that, he finally throws you a look from under his cowboy hat. 

- Good... - he confirms, his other hand slowly shortening the length of the rope connecting the both of you - Ain't the same as mint. 

The loop suddenly digs further into your flesh, and you grunt at the uncomfortable feeling of the rough rope scratching at your exposed upper arms. 

Unfortunately, he's right. During your time as the local healer, you've done many questionable things to ensure the well-being of the town. One of those things, was dealing with organ harvesters. You've only bought a limb or a finger, every once in a while, as if that was some consolation for your darkened soul. Those moments quickly taught you, that something being good was most certainly not the same as ideal. Or mint, as your captor has supplied. 

- You a Vault-Dweller? - the Ghoul finally asks, breaking the small spell of silence between you.

The question doesn't surprise you, and you lift the Pip-Boy as far up, as the lasso allows you. Which isn't a lot. 

- Nah - the flames dance on your suddenly melancholic expression, and Cooper drinks it all up, curiosity spiking with each new information - My mother was. She ran away from her Vault when she was a teenager and joined the Brotherhood soon after. 

- The Brotherhood doesn't recruit women - Cooper turns his body towards you, fishing for lies like a shark sniffing for blood. 

- Oh, it doesn't? - your lips pull back into a teasing smile, which perhaps isn't the smartest thing to do, but entertainment is scarce in the Wastelands, and you're determined to have some fun - She posed as a man for years, picked up a job as a medic.

Cooper hums to himself, inviting you to elaborate with an inclination of his head. 

- There, she met my father - you continue, looking over at the last glowing embers of the bonfire - They were discovered, court martialed for treason. They escaped together and had me somewhere along the way.

Your Pip-Boy still cracks, the radiation emanating from the Ghoul making the Geiger meter go haywire. With soft eyes, your hand traces the outline of the screen, watching the way green light dances on your fingers. 

- The forbidden love of the Wasteland - you sigh into the silence - Sounds like a title of some romance novel, no?

- Or a bad porno - Cooper grumbles, rolling his eyes.

- What's a porno?

His head snaps towards you in record speed, a myriad of emotions running through his mangled expression. It settles on deep annoyance, when he notices the sly smirk on your lips, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. 

- Gotcha - your attempt at finger guns is pathetic at best.

- Oh, you think you're a fucking comedian, huh? - the bounty hunter asks, a slight amused tint to his words, which you consider to be a small victory.

- That's why they put a bounty on me - you giggle - I'm too damned funny. 

- Shut it.

The sudden change in his tone catches you off guard, and you cock an eyebrow at him, confused. The Ghoul looks much more tense than seconds ago, his hand tightening around his gun. One of his legs kicks up a pile of dirt, smothering the dying embers of the bonfire, as he leans forward, seemingly ready to jump. 

- Had I known you were such a buzz kill...-

You're not allowed to finish, as the Ghoul basically throws himself in your direction. Your yelp is cut short with a piece of flimsy cloth being shoved into your mouth. A series of muffled sounds, vaguely resembling "is this my robe?" escape you, and the Ghoul pushed against your head, until you fall back down onto the ground. 

His body is hot against yours, as he covers you entirely with his weight. It's quite difficult to breathe through the makeshift gag and the overwhelming scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sickly sweet undertone of rot. As well as the unfamiliar feeling of having someone so close. You were a hermit after all. 

- I said, shut the fuck up - he whispers harshly into your ear, and you shiver underneath him, as his chest rises and falls against your back. 

Then, a sound somewhere close to the forest line makes your head whip in its direction. Cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer with clear determination. 

- Healer? - your entire body stiffens, as a familiar voice rings out through the trees. - Are you alright, Healer?

Benny. The same Benny, which led this damned bounty hunter right to your doorstep is currently making his merry way towards the both of you. Your eyes follow the way the Ghoul's thumb loads the pistol with a click of finality, and suddenly new energy floods your system.

- Stop fucking moving - Cooper grounds down on his teeth, as you attempt to free yourself from both his grip, and the lasso's.

Images of Benny, bloodied and dead, flash through your mind, and despite your lack of any sympathy towards the man, you don't want to see it. So, you start to move again, violently shaking under the Ghoul, forcing the lasso to slide from your body. Your hips jerk from the ground, bucking into him like a wild animal, and somewhere behind your ear, you can hear him suck in a sharp breath. Which you have no time to dwell upon. Your tongue fights against the fabric of your robe, and after a second you're able to spit it out.

- Don't shoot him - you plead feverishly, hands gripping the Ghoul's forearm - I'll talk to him, he'll leave. Just don't shoot him, please.

Cooper looks down at you, his eyes hard on your face, as he watches out for any signs of deceit. Then, he presses his lips into a thin line.

- Make it quick, or I'll pop his head clean off his shoulders. - southern accent floods every syllable, and were you not fighting to save a life (again), you would've blushed.

- Yes, thank you. I'll be quick. Thank you. - words spill out of you like a broken faucet, whispered into the space between your bodies, as the bounty hunter tugs off the loop of his lasso. 

You take a moment to steady yourself, as he drags you up with him, hand twisted into the front of your shirt. Still a little stunned, you allow him to manoeuvre you, turning your body in his grasp, until your back is pressed flush against his front. 

Strong arm sneaks over your shoulders, hand clasping around the column of your throat, while the other one waits just outside of your vision. The barrel of the gun rests between your shoulder and your neck, and the coolness of the metal causes a myriad of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

- I'm here Benny - you call out, praying to anything that would listen, that your plan would work - Come out, slowly. 

To his credit, Benny has always been quite good at following directions. There weren't many attributes about him either way, a bit dim in the head, a bit too heroic. 

And definitely a bit too quick to pull out a gun.

Which is what he does as soon as he sees your peculiar situation. The Ghoul drums his fingers against your pulse point, and Benny approaches, a simple shotgun in front of him.

- What the hell...?

- Benny, I need you to listen to me - your voice sounds way too panicked, and you swallow hard to fake some illusion of control over this situation - I need you to turn around, and leave.

- But, there's a Ghoul with a gun behind you, Healer.

You nearly jump out of your skin, when you feel the hot breath of your unwanted companion on the back of your neck. You can almost imagine his chapped lips, so close to your skin.

- Time's a tickin', sweetheart - he whispers, and your blood runs cold in your veins. 

- He's a - you swallow, mouth going dry in an instant - He's my friend. Who's getting very anxious with the trigger, Benny, so please, just go home. 

Deep down inside you know there is no scenario, where the farmer leaves alive. He signed his death warrant the moment he stepped out of the shadows, yet for some unknown reason, that just makes you fight against the odds harder. Call it dumb optimism, perhaps you're possessed by your mother's spirit. Or perhaps the chems have finally scrambled your brains for good. 

- He's not looking very friendly - Benny's gun sways slightly, as he tries to keep it raised, muscles evidently straining against the weight - He's the guy that shot Pete.

Oh for fucks sake, your whole body starts shaking at this point, heart thrumming in your chest like a moth batting against a lampshade. You can feel the Ghoul smirk against the skin of your shoulder, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His thumb presses slightly into your pulse, feeling it run rampant against his finger. 

- Please - somehow you hope the desperation in your voice will be enough - Please, leave. Benny, please.

Benny looks between you and the Ghoul peaking over your trembling form. You can see his brain working overtime, scrunched eyebrows, smacking of the lips. You're only praying it's working in the right direction. Then, some idea flashes across his expression, and you know in the hollow of your stomach, that this is his end.

- If I save you, will you marry me? - he asks, looking at you with the utmost hopeful expression.

- ...what?

Confusion doesn't even fully register in your mind, as the deafening sound of a gun being fired nearly blows up your eardrums. At first you're not sure, what you're looking at. Where there used to be Benny, now there's a carcass, mangled and bloody. It's hard to figure out, where individual parts of his body are, some bones sticking out from the chunky mush. A spray of red falls onto your face like a morning mist, and the scent of iron and gunpowder is stunning your senses. 

You can't move. Eyes glued to what once used to Benny, you don't even notice, as the Ghoul removes himself from you, placing the lasso over your head and around your body. The loop is secured tightly, and the bounty hunter tugs on it a couple of times, just to test its durability. Then, lazily, he picks up your messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder. 

- The first time he came to me for help, he tried to domesticate a rad roach - you mutter absentmindedly, not caring if your unwanted companion is hearing you - Wanted it to help with the farm work. I had to stitch half his left side. 

- Stupid life deserves a stupid death.

- You're a fucking monster - you spit out, the feeling of Benny's blood on your lips almost making you gag.

Apparently, the Ghoul takes offense to that, because almost instantly, he's in front of you, his hand gripping your throat, and pushing you hard against the metal plating of the destroyed plane. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, as your head knocks hard into the wall, pain barely registering under the confusion.

- I have been more than accommodating to you, little princess - the Ghoul snarls in your direction, but all you can focus on, is his other hand, grabbing your bruised chin - I've entertained your little medical escapade, I let you negotiate with that dimwit over there.

The warmth of his body suffocates you stronger than any hand around your throat. You can't decide on the color of his eyes, as they seem to shift between amber and green, and completely black. Your mouth opens just a smidge, as you try to defend yourself in any way, but before you can speak, the Ghoul shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth, silencing you in an instant. 

- I could be so much worse, darlin', and I don't think you would like that - his voice lowers itself barely above a whisper, and he watches your expression shift under his grip.

You can't help it, really, the way your body reacts to this rough manhandling. It's not like you could predict being pinned to a wall by a stranger would make your thighs press together. Cooper looks down. He smiles like a cat, that's just found the fattest of mice, when his eyes drag back up to your face. 

- Or perhaps you would - his knee presses against the middle of your thighs, just short of forcing them apart, and you gasp around his fingers.

As if nothing has happened, he pulls away, so suddenly, you nearly fall over. His gloved hand glistens with your saliva, and gracefully, he wipes it clean on your shirt. Blushed, panting, and very angry at this turn of events, you stare daggers at him, as he tugs at the lasso, forcing you to start moving.  

- What is your name? - you demand, blood running hot and defiant in your veins. 

Cooper stares for just a moment too long. The way you seem to bristle in rage, even though that farmer truly was stupid, and you know it too. He likes the way your eyes harden, the way your jaw sets, when you realize this is no longer fun and games. When you recognize, how dangerous he can be, how mean and ruthless. He'd be a fool not to admit it,  it makes him feel powerful, revered. 

And the undertone of humiliation running through the length of your spine is just such a delicious addition. Almost better than chems. Almost more addicting.

Lips tugging back into a nasty smirk, he appraises you with his gaze, surprised when your resolve seems to harden even more. 

- You, Healer - your title sounds wrong coming from his thin lips, worse than any other time you've heard it - Can call me "sir".

Something akin to disgust runs through your expression, and you turn away with a grumble. 

- Fat fucking chance.

[annwrites]

what happened to you?

— pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader

— type: one-shot

— summary: wishing to make amends, ben ends up on your front porch, only to discover he's too late.

— word count: 3,073

— a/n: i have never watched the boys, so i apologize if any of this is inaccurate, or if i've mischaracterized soldier boy. i gathered what i know/implemented in this fic from tribute vids on yt & reading his fandom wiki.

You were his greatest regret.

But not for the reasons you might think. Or, rather, might’ve thought.

As he stands in front of a familiar porch that he hasn’t seen since the mid-forties, listening to wind-chimes softly tinkling in the breeze, and birds chirping in the apple tree out front, he doesn’t feel the sense of calm he’d expected—hoped for. Instead… He’s sure if a Geiger meter were nearby, it’d be playing a symphony.

He takes one measured step up, onto the front porch, and then another, and another, until he’s standing before the front door—his shoes resting over a mat which welcomes him—with a raised fist that wavers.

Perhaps he’s not welcome here.

He shouldn’t be. Not after how he’d left before.

How could he have left like that?

How could he have expected you to react any differently?

You’d been right. He was, and will forever now be, ‘just an empty suit’.

Finally, he knocks, heart hammering away in his chest, knowing he needs to get himself under control. And quickly.

Slowly, the door opens, the storm screen being pushed outward by an elderly man—fine lines crease his tan, weathered face, his silver hair carefully combed to the side, and he dons a light blue button-up, with beige slacks.

His brows furrow. “Can I help you?”

“I… I’m looking for someone. She lived here a long time ago. Do you happen to know a woman by the name of Y/N?”

The man studies him for a moment. “You mean to say you knew my mother, young man?”

Young man… If only.

“You’re…her son.”

He nods. “I am.”

“Is she here, then? Or, do you have her address so I can—”

“She died. Thirteen years ago.”

His world stops spinning.

He had known that there would be a likely chance. A more than likely chance that this was how it would turn out. But he’d needed to come. Had needed to try.

And he was too late.

He swallows thickly. “I—I don’t know if you know who I am—”

The man looks him over once more, then nods. “I know who you are. I used to watch you on our television set. Well, when I could sneak a peak in, that is.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Thinking of it—thought they said you died yourself? Over in Africa or something, wasn’t it?”

Ben shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

Chris turns his body sideways then, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “Would you like to come inside, Benjamin?”

His heart stutters, and he just stares.

This had been your home. He doesn’t know that he should…

“Would she have wanted that?” He asks doubtfully.

The man sighs. “To tell you the truth, I think she’d have let you in, just the same as me. You came back after all this time, didn’t you? Must count for something. To make amends, maybe. Never did tell us the full story. Either way, it’s my house now, and I say you’re allowed.”

He steps over the threshold.

Ben sits at the dining table that’s next to the kitchen, just on the other side of a high marble counter, flipping through pages of an old photo album—full of memories.

Of you. Your family. Your life.

Meanwhile, Christopher, your eldest son, makes himself busy in the kitchen preparing a fresh pot of coffee.

“I always wanted one of those action figures of you, you know,” he says.

He rummages around in a cabinet for a moment. “Begged and pleaded for one one Christmas. Momma always told me no. Finally, daddy took and sat me down one night and told me if I asked anymore it’d end with a whoopin’. That he and momma had made it clear you were not welcome in our home in any form. So, I knew it was pretty serious, because he never raised a hand to any of us.”

He waves his hand. “I just thought I’d be able to win her over with puppy-dog eyes like always, but she held firm. After that, I stopped asking. Got a different one instead. Forget what it was now.”

He shrugs, pouring a cup of coffee, and then another, returning to the table.

He sets one down before Ben, who’s seated at the head of the table. He takes the chair to his right, groaning as he sits.

“No fun in getting old,” he says with a wink, but Ben doesn’t smile.

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Guess you wouldn’t know much about it, though. Must be strange sometimes, I reckon.”

Ben flips another page of the album, not bothering with touching his mug. “You have no idea.”

He nods. “Oh, I do. The things these kids get up to nowadays…”

He shakes his head. “No sense anymore. I’m just glad momma passed before it got to the point it’s at now. Not knowing who or what they are—men dressin’ as women and vice versa. Would’ve broken her heart to see.”

He sets his mug down. “She and daddy loved this country. To see it in shambles the way it is—after he fought for it on that beach—”

Ben looks at him. “He was at Normandy?”

Chris nods. “Says you never were. That true?”

Ben is quiet for a moment and then he nods. “It is. I got there two weeks later. It was just propaganda. Just like everything else I ever did.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “A lie.”

Chris shakes his head softly, but doesn’t reply.

Ben smiles at a photo of you sitting on the front porch, smiling softly as you hold your swollen belly between your hands.

Chris glances to it. “That was her and me. Eight children… You believe that? I don’t know how they do it.”

“She always wanted a big family,” Ben replies, turning the page.

“By golly if dad didn’t help give her one. Those two were in love as two people can be. They met in Europe, you know? During the war.”

Ben’s head shoots up. “They did?”

Chris nods. “They’d eventually both been put on the same base. She was a nurse, as you know. And the first time he saw her, he said his heart stopped. Said he turned to the guy next to him, pointed to momma and said ‘that woman is going to be my wife’.”

Ben recalls how he had the exact same reaction when he first met you himself. Being left speechless by the kind look in your beautiful eyes.

No one had ever looked at him like that before. He’d wanted so desperately for them to—for his father to—but they hadn’t. Not until you walked into his life, that is.

Chris grins, shrugging. “Said the fella laughed at him. Said she hardly talked to anyone, so she wasn’t going to be talking to him, neither.”

He looks at Ben. “It was after you disappeared, turns out. But he started comin’ in every day to see her. Flowers in-hand. When he could get a hold of some, that is. When he couldn’t, he’d walk miles off-base when he had a weekend pass and would pick bushels of them so he’d have enough before he got another chance to go out. The guys ribbed him for it, but he didn’t care a lick.”

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Just used to say that after he sets eyes on her, she’d never be lonely again.”

“Sounds like he was telling the truth,” Ben replies quietly.

He clear his throat then. “Did she ever…talk about me?”

Christopher grows serious. “Not if she could help it. If you so much as came on the television set or the radio, she’d just quietly tell us: ‘turn it off’. We asked her why, but she’d just shake her head. It was daddy that took me out in the garage one day—they always had us up to somethin’; momma would have the girls in the house cooking, cleaning, sewing, while daddy would have the boys outside with him—while he worked on our old Coupe, and he told me that you were no hero to them. That the men who fought and died on those beaches and battlefields were. And you weren’t that. Said you were just…how’d he say that, again? Empty suit?”

Ben swallows thickly. “I hope you listened to ‘em. Found better idols.”

“Oh, me and my brothers worshiped the ground our old man walked on. Just thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. Thought he knew and could do every and anything. He was a good man. But he’s gone now, too. Was about a year after momma.”

He stares out the window. “He never was the same after she passed. Used to talk about her like she was still here. Would tell us all the time ‘she’ll be back real soon, just had to run to the store’. I think he just couldn’t accept her being gone. Still gives me chills when I think about his last night with us. He looked right at me—we were just sitting on the porch out there enjoying the evening—and tells me ‘I’m going to see your mother tonight’. We found him the next morning in bed, clutching her robe to his chest.”

He sniffles, clearing his throat. “So we put him next to her. He had two plots picked out before they ever even left us. Headstone was ready to go, other than adding in their dates of death.”

Ben looks at him.

“Me and my siblings take turns visiting on the weekends, bringing flowers and telling them about how boring our lives have gotten, while our grandkids are off to college, and getting married, and having babies of their own.”

He smiles wistfully. “My sister, Elizabeth, her granddaughter is named after momma, actually. She’s twenty now. Going to school to become a doctor.”

He shakes his head with a wistful smile. “A doctor.”

He grins, looking at Ben. “Maybe I’ll get my checkups done for free, huh? Medicare only does so much for an old man with a body that’s falling apart.”

Ben wishes he had that problem. But, instead, he’s practically fucking invincible. The Russians had proved that more times than he could count. If an AK-47 being shoved in his mouth as they held down the trigger hadn’t been enough…what would be?

When Ben turns the next page, he stares down at a photo of you hanging laundry on the line.

You’d just been bringing it inside the last time he saw you.

He’d stepped up proudly onto that porch in full regalia—his new suit—a broad smile on his face, and he’d knocked confidently.

You’d called from inside ‘just a moment!’ and he’d breathed in the scent of warm peach cobbler cooling on the windowsill on the other side of the house.

And then you’d opened the door.

And instead of you throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him, smiling at him, or taking his hand in yours as you tugged him inside and into your bedroom, you’d stepped out with furrowed brows.

“You’re here.”

He’d nodded. “Know I’ve been MIA for awhile, but you’ve probably seen on television, or in magazines—”

“What happened to you?”

He had thought, mistakenly, you’d meant after he disappeared from the Army base. When you woke one morning in bed alone, and when you went looking for him, all you found was a broken heart.

“Long story short, sweetheart,” your stomach had turned at that term of endearment rolling off his tongue. “I volunteered for some government testing and now I’m new and improved. The damn hero of the war!”

You’d wrapped your arms around yourself—he hadn’t seen your engagement ring—as you stared up at him.

That previous look of love that you’d had when you gazed up at him at night while he was inside of you was long gone.

“This isn’t you.”

You’d taken a step forward, reaching a hand up, cupping his cheek. “This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”

He’d soured toward you in an instant. First his father and now…

“What, I’m too much for you now?” He’d sneered. “Too much man for you to handle? Well, that’s fine. Because when it comes to women, I have no shortage of them.”

Your eyes had filled with tears.

“It’s like you’re a completely different person,” you’d whispered.

“And for the better,” he’d snapped back. “But that works out just fine. Me being too much, because now? You wouldn’t be nearly enough for a guy like me.”

You’d choked back a sob, cupping a hand over your mouth, the other remaining wrapped around your middle.

He’d wanted to shove a gun in his mouth.

Because the truth was? The ticker-tape parades, the money, and women, and notoriety meant nothing to him.

After receiving further rejection from his father, he’d gone to you. Wanting you to fix it. To make it all better. Just like you had before.

How could he have ever been delusional enough to think a woman like you would ever accept the parody of himself that he’d become?

“Please leave,” you’d choked out. “And don’t come back. I can’t take seeing you wearing that empty suit again.”

He’d flinched. “Believe me, only time you’ll ever see me again will be in the headlines, honey.”

And then he’d walked away, and as he put one foot in front of the other, all he could hear was your heartbroken sobs behind him.

Finally, Ben shuts the photo album, turning to Christopher. “Were her favorite flowers in the end still tulips?”

Chris’ brows had furrowed. “They were.”

Ben had stood. “Can you tell me what cemetery I can find them at?”

After carefully placing a bouquet of white and pink tulips in the vase mounted atop your side of the headstone, Ben kneels down, gripping the top of it while he looks it over.

On your husband’s side is his name—preceded by his Army rank: corporal—and dates of birth and death, as well as those things he’d been, which had meant the most: beloved son, brother, father, grandfather, and husband. And on yours: beloved daughter, mother, grandmother, and wife.

In the middle are two rings, bound together in stone.

He presses a kiss to the top of your headstone, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry it took me so long to find my way back to you. But I’m here now.”

He sniffles. “Maybe you don’t want me to be.”

He glances to your husband. “Maybe neither of you do. And I’d understand that. I just… I have a lot of things I’d like to say. And I’d like for you both to hear them.”

He sits back, looking at your headstone, his arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees—his hand holding his other wrist. “I went to see your son, Chris. He’s a hell of a kid. Told me stories about the two of you. Told me…”

He shakes his head, glancing away. “I know I broke your heart. I knew it that day. I’d just…hoped maybe you’d forget about me. I wasn’t worth remembering. But I’m sure I was around every goddamn corner you turned. On TV, in the paper, on the news, on store shelves.”

He fucking hates himself for it.

“I never deserved any of it. The only thing I ever really wanted was you. And I threw that chance away. For nothing.”

He laughs without humor. “You want to know what happened to me? In the eighties, the woman I thought I loved…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve known even then it was only ever going to be you.”

He sighs. “She betrayed me. My team did. Handed me off to the Russians. And for three decades they…”

He trails off, then starts again. “The things they did…”

He swallows, shaking his head. “At first I tried to hold onto some misguided hope that she’d come for me. And when I finally resigned myself to the fate of knowing that was never going to happen, I lost myself, instead, in you. You were the only thing I had left to hold onto. I had a whole life with you inside my head…”

He’s quiet for a moment, a small, sad smile playing on his lips as he thinks back on it. “A good life,” he says, nodding.

He runs his hand down his face, wiping away tears. “We had a family. A good marriage. I came back to you and I gave it all up just to have you. And it was the best thing I ever did.”

His shoulders begin to shake. “And then they came and woke me up and tore me away from you. And I realized it had never been real. Not for one goddamn second. I can’t…begin to tell you what that did—has done—to me.”

He looks at your headstone with a watery smile. “But to find out that you got everything you ever wanted? Deserved to have?”

He looks to your husband’s headstone. “Thank you for that. For taking care of our girl. For being the man I never was. I’m just glad she found someone worthy of her. Who deserved her. Because we both know I never did. Thank you for fixing what I broke.”

He looks back to you. “I hope to God you never felt guilty for the things you said to me that day. Because you were the only one willing to. I needed to hear them, even if I didn’t want to. That was your last gift to me: a hard truth. So, thank you.”

He stands, kissing your headstone one last time, his hand fingering a picture in his pocket which Christopher had given him before he’d left—he’d said he’d nearly forgotten he’d had it.

Apparently, the kids had found it in your things after you passed—they’d never told your husband: a photo of you sitting on his lap while he smiled softly at you, you smiling meanwhile at the camera, holding a small American flag in your hand, still in your nurse’s uniform.

At least he’ll have some shred of his humanity to hold onto, with that, in what’s to come. The fact you’d held onto it for all those decades… It’d meant a great deal to him.

“I love you,” he whispers, walking away.

For the final time.

[ask-sister-solaris]

can i request Egon Spengler x reader where reader is a scientist and has a ghost in their lab? Reader talks very technical (similar to Egon) and maybe the other ghostbusters struggle to understand what they are talking about, but reader ends up correcting Egon on something and he’s just smitten? (i have a head-cannon that Egon loves it when he’s challenged scientifically)

Hehehehehe YES

“What. Just. Happened-“

Egon x scientist!reader

Warnings: eh it gets a bit…suggestive.

A silent groan escaped your lips as you looked up. The phantasm was still persisting with its tricks. You picked up the phone and dialed the Ghostbusters number, answering the receptionists questions. When assured you they were on their way, you put the phone down and took a few samples of the sticky residue that dripped from your book shelf. Maybe this could be useful.

You set the sample in a safe place and straightened your jacket out. Being a Doctor of Parapsychology and Science you knew this was atleast a class 4. You picked up your copy of Tobins Spirit Guide and began looking through, though it seemed the phantasm wasn’t in said Guide. You hummed as a knock on the door grabbed your attention. You opened the door and there they were, The Ghostbusters. You stepped aside to let them in and rolled your eyes at Peter Venkmans poor poor attempt at flirting. You brushed him off and turned to Ray Stantz. You’d seen his work before “The phantasm isn’t in Tobins, I checked. It seems to be a class 4. It has all the traits of a class 4, slightly more aggressive bordering on a class 5”

Ray and Peter looked at eachother with raised eyebrows then back at you. You’d turned your back to them, looking for something in a drawer. You pulled out a Geiger counter and ran if I’ve the slime as Egon Spengler was going over your office with a PKE meter. You hummed and took a mental note of the readings on the Geiger counter. Ray cleared his throat “have you seen the phantasm miss? Could you describe it?” You hummed and looked at him “I have seen it, a large, red mass of ectoplasm and anger. It has no facial features as far i saw, it had no legs but shoe stubby arms and it squealed like a pig” you out the counter down and looked at Egon who was currently scanning you.

“She’s right Ray, if the readings on the PKE are anything to go by, it’s definitely a boarding on being a level 5 phantasm, a nasty one at that” Egon looked at Ray then the others. Peter looked at them confused “Egon…for one moment pretend that I don’t know anything about parapsychology and dumb it down for me?” You rose a brow and snapped Tobins spirit guide shut making all four of them jump. “Well Dr Venkman, as you are so clueless, let me enlightened you. The big red blob is causing havoc in my office. It is disrupting my work and research, now I am a fellow doctor of Parapsychology and Science. So I’m sure you can share the sentiment of hating being disturbed!”

Peter flinched and looked at Winston and Ray before shrugging “we can’t guarantee that your office will still be in one piece when we have caught said phantasm” Ray told you and you rolled your eyes “okay” you grabbed your research and Tobins, leaving the room. A few hours later the boys walked out holding a smoking trap .

“You were right. A level 4 bordering on 5” Egon nodded at you and you didn’t even look up “I know. Is that it? How much did you destroy?” Egon looked at Ray and rolled his eyes “luckily your office is unscathed your coworkers offices however…not so much” you stood up and snapped your book shut. “How much do you want? And make it quick I have research to be doing” Egon looked at Peter and he gave his signature poor flirty smile. “How does 4,000 sound hm?” You pulled out your cheque book and wrote it for 4000 before ripping it out and giving it to Egon. “I was wondering if you would like to work together, you said you’re a Dr of Parapsychology. The ectoplasm is seemingly negatively charged so I would like to run some tests”

You rose a brow and looked at him “Well it’s actually neutral until exposed to outside elements such as my anger toward Dr Venkman and I’m going to suppose Dr Venkmans annoyance at his poor flirting tactics” the room went silent and Egon pushed his glasses up gently. He looked down hiding his bright red face, god you were perfect.

Winston looked between you, Egon and the other two and rose a brow “What. Just. Happened-“

[puirell]

a kitchen island with a built-in radiation meter call that shit a geiger counter

[andmaybegayer]

My god, the Germans have done it again, they've created another painfully useless and expensive piece of energy infrastructure

Their other projects store between 2 and 4MWh. TFW your 700 meter deep mine stores as much energy as $600 000 in lithium cells. An entire 700 meter deep mine to store as much energy as 50 modern electric cars worth of batteries. Clown world. Literally makes lithium cells look feasible as a solution to energy storage.

[moult]

new 'imaginary acts' single by Clock-Mouse. non-summer sounds. bring a geiger counter, an EMF meter and a warm coat

lossless downloads and credits at my bandcamp (plus, old unrelated but vibes-compatible song thrown in as the b-side, as is traditional)

[randomlyjay]

Just so everyone totally knows

When a Jay writes a poem it glows!!

It has an extra jaysome meter

And its own Geiger counter!!

[redrumrose]

Just wanted to say I really love your work! Your characters are all so endearing and wonderfully designed.

I've had Em and Dmitri in my head a lot lately: they're so cute! I can just imagine Em scratching off the label of a geiger counter, writing something like "Groovy Meter", pointing it at Dima and saying "Look honey, you're off the charts!"

Love the rest of the family too! Rock on!

Duuude thank you so much!!! I'm so happy you like my art and characters!! ALSO I LOVE THAT SCENERIO SO MUCH!!!! I had to draw it out real quick:

Em would totally do something cute like that with him x3

[wumblr]

i'm sorry but your boyfriend fell off a truck in australia and it's a whole incident yeah everybody's looking for him but he's only detectable by geiger counters within like a twenty meter radius and they don't know if he already got picked up in somebody's tire treads or what

[geoledgy]

found the perfect geiger counter for tb... it even shares his name (tb) sorta. the TA TBM 15 frisker (ignore the digital readout, most of them have a dial but i could only find good pics of the digital one). cute teal body and a teal probe. detects surface contamination of alpha, beta, gamma, or x-ray. TA meters usually have bright colors (usually yellow, teal, or blue) but the TBM series all have teal bodies with black faceplates. the only one i've found with a teal probe is the TBM-15. link to spec sheet: https://www.tech-associates.site/product-info/tbm-15.pdf

WOW!! This is such a neat Geiger-counter...I really love that it's teal and BLACK too. TBM is so close to his initials (TBN) but you know what this is another one for TB's collection now hahaha

TYSM for sharing!!!

(I took a screenshot of what was in the pdf link)

[eridanidreams]

Text Dump Thursday

Since I got tagged for extra content by @bearlytolerant... grins

from an upcoming chapter of Deus Ex: The Odysseus Gambit

It was the second day of their hastily improvised wilderness vacation, and they’d had to circle far to the south of their intended route to avoid a nasty hotspot. The detour had already added a day to their travel time, and Sloane could only hope they didn’t have to go too much farther out of their way. She chanced a glance at Jensen, who was carefully watching where he put his feet. City boy learns fast, she thought wryly. Then again, once you knew how to move with stealth, it was just a matter of figuring out what to watch out for.

The forest here made her uneasy. For the hundredth time, she reminded herself that the Red Forest wasn’t normal. Once, it had been a mixed-growth forest, pines and birch intermingled, but conifers were more susceptible to radiation than deciduous trees. The pines had died within a year of the meltdown; the rust of their needles had given the area its name. The dead pines had been long since buried, and the forest was more birch than pine now, but the name remained.

It was the absence of birdsong, she decided. Another casualty of the meltdown; although a wide variety of animals had moved into the area after people moved out, the bird and insect populations had been badly affected, and even now were much lower than normal. The silence that in any other forest would have meant danger was simply a sad fact of life in this blighted place.

Damned if she could tell her instincts that, when every instinct she had clamored that this was a place of death, and she had no business being here.

Sloane’s nerves were wound tightly enough that she actually jumped a little when Jensen’s voice crackled through her infolink. “Got something here. I think… you need to see this.”

She picked her way through the closely-grown birches to join Jensen; “this” was the wreck of a wood cabin, no more than five meters by five meters. The ground beneath the cabin had collapsed, taking half the building with it. Its one remaining wall leaned precariously, held mostly vertical only by a conveniently-placed tree. Splintered wood hung like teeth against the dark maw of the cavern, but—“Do you see that?” she asked, indicating an angle that was far too regular to be natural.

“Huh. Why would a forest shack have a cellar?” Jensen asked, logically.

“If it was built over a zemlyanka…” He frowned, clearly not recognizing the word. “Dug-out shelter, sometimes concrete-reinforced. Partisans used them to hide during World War II. This would have been a good place for one when Operation Barbarossa was in full swing.” Absently, she rubbed the back of her neck. “What the hell would anyone want out here, though?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jensen said. She shrugged agreement, and the two of them advanced carefully upon the ruin. The ground surrounding it was torn and trampled, and the Geiger counter at her wrist rattled angrily.

“Looks like something’s exposed the radioactive sediments,” Sloane warned. “We shouldn’t stay here more than an hour.”

Jensen’s eyebrows had a distinctly sardonic quirk. “If we’re here that long, we’re probably in bigger trouble than just a little radiation.” He broke off a length of wood, propping it under a particularly precarious-looking part of the ruin. While he did that, Sloane took a better look at the immediate area. She saw animal tracks galore—mostly deer, if she was reading them right—but what she didn’t see were human footprints.

“Right,” he said, having set a few more props while she was studying the ground. “That’s about as stable as it’s going to get.” He turned his head toward her. “How do you want to do this?”

“One of us should stay up top,” she responded immediately. “That way, if it collapses, we aren’t both trapped.” She chewed her lip in thought. “I’m a little smaller, so I should probably go.” She tried for a smile, but it felt odd on her face. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”

“Makes sense,” Jensen said. “I’ll keep watch up here.”

Sloane slid out of her pack—it wasn’t large, but she wasn’t taking any chances—and hunted around until she found the stairs down. The concrete hadn’t crumbled, but the steps were short and shallow, slick with mud and half-rotted leaves. She placed her feet carefully with each step, making sure she was stable before taking the next. It took what seemed an eternity to reach the bottom, but the clock said it had only been about a minute. “Okay,” she murmured into the infolink, “I’m down.” The sun didn’t penetrate this far down. A chill ran through her—it must have been due to the cold. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, then gave up the attempt to chase away the chill and pulled out her flashlight. “Fuck, it’s a mess down here.” It looked like part of the concrete ceiling of the zemlyanka had collapsed—in fact, that might have been what brought the whole thing down. She turned slowly, making sure that her eyes were set to ‘record’. “They were monitoring something down here. Lots of screens, all smashed to shit.” Something flashed white under her boot; she bent down and pulled a crumpled, torn piece of paper out of the muck, but it was totally illegible.

“Anything like an OSD down there?” Sloane didn’t want to admit it, but the sound of Jensen’s voice was reassuring. “They had to save the data somewhere.”

“If there was, it’s either buried in the muck or resting in pieces,” she replied tartly. “I’m not kidding when I say it’s all smashed; someone really did a number on this place.” She turned toward the half of the cellar with the collapsed roof. “I’m going to see if anything survived under the roof.”

“Try not to get yourself crushed,” Jensen advised, irony infusing his voice.

“Number one on my to-do list,” she replied, equally ironically, making her careful way through the bunker. “I think I can—fuck!” She shifted her weight backward, barely managing to avoid stepping on the pale, vaguely luminescent leg sticking out from beneath the wreckage.

“You okay?” Jensen actually sounded concerned.

“Yeah,” Sloane said. “Got a body here.” She pulled out a flashlight and crouched next to it. The faint glow was washed out by the brighter light; what she could see of the limb was covered in a grey, greasy-looking wax. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, “this thing’s saponified.” She leaned back on her heels and wracked her brain for anything related to—

“Saponified?” Jensen sounded simultaneously wary and curious.

“It’s a soap mummy. The body fat turns to soap. The conditions have to be right, but I can’t remember details other than the soil has to be pretty alkaline. You get soap when you combine fat and something alkaline, like lye.” Sloane realized she was babbling and snapped her mouth shut, annoyed that she was letting her nerves get the best of her. “He’s been here for a few months, at least. I don’t remember how long it takes for saponification to start, but it’s not that long.” She straightened up, took a step back, and played the beam around. “Got the stock of a weapon here—looks like a rifle.” She edged over, trying to find decent footing. The rifle was half-buried under concrete and wood, but it slid easily at even a tentative pull. “Ok, guy’s military or paramilitary. Got an AK-27 here.”

“So, Russian military,” Jensen said. “Have those even had time to hit the black market?”

“I wish,” Sloane grumbled. “I hate the FR-27. It’s not a combat rifle, it’s a PDW with delusions of grandeur.” Jensen made a noise that might have been a chuckle. She was tempted to claim it like she had the Aspid, but without ammo it would just be an awkward club. Instead, she turned her attention back to the corpse. From where she was, if she angled the beam just right, she could see—

She swallowed hard. “Cause of death is pretty obvious. Gross injury to the lower abdominal region, resulting in partial evisceration.” It was a clinical way of saying that his abdomen had been savagely ripped open enough for the guts to spill out. “Can’t determine if there’s thoracic involvement due to the wreckage.” The darkness pressed in on her; the flashlight was a frail defense. Her mask couldn’t block the dank and fetid stench of stale mold and rancid pork, all underlain by a heavy, musky odor she couldn’t identify. Her heart pounded in her chest, racing to the clack of the Geiger counter; she overrode it, but it was no help against the feeling of dread creeping up her spine. She spoke rapidly to try to cover her discomfort. “This is a bust; I can’t go any deeper. Coming out.”

“Copy that,” he said, as she suited deed to word, climbing out of the broken bunker with a distinct feeling of relief. As she emerged into the thin sunlight, his eyebrows lowered behind his eyeshields. “You look spooked,” he said bluntly.

Pride tempted her to deny it, but honesty compelled her equally blunt reply. “I am.” She holstered the flashlight, giving Jensen a sidelong glance; she wondered if she was going to regret her candidness.

“Huh. So it’s not just me,” he replied, giving her what she thought was a thoughtful look—like her, Jensen wore a full-body Tyvek suit (wood camo pattern) and high-filtration mask; with his shades up, that was all she could really see of his expression. “What’s bugging you?”

Sloane blew out a heavy breath. “My brain knows better than my gut, but my gut’s not listening.” She slung her pack back on and jerked her head eastward to indicate they should get going.

Jensen fell into step beside her. “You always listen to your head over your gut?” he asked, sounding dubious.

“When my head has more pertinent information,” she said tartly, “Yes. I just wish my gut would get the message and turn the damn volume down.”

He grunted, if not assent, at least acknowledgment. They moved in silence for a few minutes, then he asked, “What the hell could have done that?” From the tone of his voice, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“That live around here? Bison, maybe. Or bear. Lots of wildlife moved in here after the meltdown.” The ironic twist of her lips, invisible under her mask, seeped into her voice. “Turns out people are worse for wildlife than radiation.” Her mind was still going over what she’d seen down there. Jensen’s shoulders were tense. “Probably not a bear. No claw marks.”

His head turned toward her for just a moment. “Wish I could find that reassuring,” he growled.

“So do I,” Sloane sighed. “So do I.”