Midnight in Chernobyl: The Untold Story of the World's Greatest Nuclear Disaster

by Adam Higginbotham

Large beads of liquid began to form on the canopy. At first, Volodin thought it was rain. But then he noticed that it wasn’t breaking over the glass like water: instead, it was strange, heavy, and viscous. It flowed slowly like jelly and then evaporated, leaving a salty-looking residue. And the sky remained clear. He bent over the control panel, and looked up: directly above him, the same whitish smoke was blowing overhead, thin in some places, dense in others. Almost like a cloud. “Captain, it’s maxed out!” the flight engineer shouted. “What’s maxed out?” “The DP-3. The needle’s stuck.” “Then switch to a higher range,” Volodin said, and turned to check the dial himself. But the radiometer was already calibrated to its most extreme setting. The needle was glued to the far end of the range, at 500 roentgen per hour. And Volodin knew that the device took its readings from a receiver in the back of his seat. It seemed impossible: the level of radiation inside the cockpit had risen beyond the worst expected in a nuclear war. Whatever it was, he had to get them away from the cloud immediately.