Instant ebooks textbook (Ebook) Toxicology, Survival and Health Hazards of Combustion Products by David A. Purser, Robert L. Maynard, James C. Wakefield (eds.) ISBN 9781849735698, 1849735697 download all chapters
Instant ebooks textbook (Ebook) Toxicology, Survival and Health Hazards of Combustion Products by David A. Purser, Robert L. Maynard, James C. Wakefield (eds.) ISBN 9781849735698, 1849735697 download all chapters
https://ebooknice.com/product/biota-grow-2c-gather-2c-cook-6661374
ebooknice.com
https://ebooknice.com/product/matematik-5000-kurs-2c-larobok-23848312
ebooknice.com
https://ebooknice.com/product/sat-ii-success-
math-1c-and-2c-2002-peterson-s-sat-ii-success-1722018
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Master SAT II Math 1c and 2c 4th ed (Arco Master the SAT
Subject Test: Math Levels 1 & 2) by Arco ISBN 9780768923049,
0768923042
https://ebooknice.com/product/master-sat-ii-math-1c-and-2c-4th-ed-
arco-master-the-sat-subject-test-math-levels-1-2-2326094
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Cambridge IGCSE and O Level History Workbook 2C - Depth Study:
the United States, 1919-41 2nd Edition by Benjamin Harrison ISBN
9781398375147, 9781398375048, 1398375144, 1398375047
https://ebooknice.com/product/cambridge-igcse-and-o-level-history-
workbook-2c-depth-study-the-united-states-1919-41-2nd-edition-53538044
ebooknice.com
https://ebooknice.com/product/chemical-warfare-agents-toxicology-and-
treatment-2nd-edition-7121866
ebooknice.com
https://ebooknice.com/product/anatomy-and-histology-of-the-laboratory-
rat-in-toxicology-and-biomedical-research-10011050
ebooknice.com
https://ebooknice.com/product/vagabond-vol-29-29-37511002
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Air pollution and health by Jon Ayres, Robert L. Maynard, Roy
Richards ISBN 9781860941917, 1860941915
https://ebooknice.com/product/air-pollution-and-health-1002372
ebooknice.com
Toxicology Survival and Health Hazards of Combustion
Products 1st Edition David A. Purser Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): David A. Purser, Robert L. Maynard, James C. Wakefield (eds.)
ISBN(s): 9781849735698, 1849735697
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 13.69 MB
Year: 2015
Language: english
08:00:02.
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP001
Products
Toxicology, Survival and Health Hazards of Combustion
View Online
Issues in Toxicology
Series Editors:
Professor Diana Anderson, University of Bradford, UK
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP001
Products
Edited by
David A. Purser
Hartford Environmental Research, Hatfield, UK
Email: [email protected]
Robert L. Maynard
University of Birmingham, UK
Email: [email protected]
James C. Wakefield
Health Protection Agency, UK
08:00:02.
Email: [email protected]
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP001 View Online
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Apart from fair dealing for the purposes of research for non-commercial purposes or for
private study, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988 and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003, this publication may not
be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior
permission in writing of The Royal Society of Chemistry or the copyright owner, or in the
case of reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright
Licensing Agency in the UK, or in accordance with the terms of the licences issued by the
appropriate Reproduction Rights Organization outside the UK. Enquiries concerning
reproduction outside the terms stated here should be sent to The Royal Society of
Chemistry at the address printed on this page.
The RSC is not responsible for individual opinions expressed in this work.
The authors have sought to locate owners of all reproduced material not in their own
possession and trust that no copyrights have been inadvertently infringed.
Printed in the United Kingdom by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY, UK
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP007
Preface
vii
View Online
viii Preface
Both the fire size and combustion conditions change considerably during
fire development and the human exposure conditions further depend on the
dynamics of air entrainment and plume dispersal. These issues are covered
in the first section, including descriptions of fire physics and chemistry,
models for the calculation of rates of formation and composition of fire
plume from different fuels, and fire conditions and their dispersal both
within buildings and in the outside environment.
The effects on exposed subjects in different locations relative to a fire also
vary at different locations throughout an exposure. For fire victims inside
buildings or vehicles the sequence of toxic hazards usually begins with the
immediate pain and incapacitating effects of exposure to visually obscure
smoke, containing a range of irritant acid gases and particulates, followed by
asphyxiation from gases, including carbon monoxide and hydrogen cyanide,
complicated by heat exposure and burns. Following exposure, another set
of effects include chemical lung injury, burns, and neurological and
cardiovascular effects. Evaluation of these hazards therefore requires
assessment of the source term and exposure conditions, as well as
the subsequent sequence of physiological and pathological effects. The
08:00:03.
toxicology of these effects and methods for their assessment are presented in
the second section, with clinical aspects of toxicology and management in
the third section.
Assessing the effects of exposure to widely dispersed fire effluent plumes
or deposited pollutants in the outside environment presents another set
of challenges. Unlike the life-threatening effects of exposures during fires
inside buildings, the health effects of both single and repeated exposures to
dilute smoke plumes or combustion products dispersed into the environ-
ment are more subtle, ranging from acute nuisance odour to long term
health hazards such as cardio-respiratory diseases and carcinogenicity.
Aspects of these are also described in terms of their formation and dispersal
in the first section and their toxicity in the second section. The third, fourth
and fifth sections discuss aspects of clinical management and assessment,
examples of some specific large conflagration incidents and the public
health aspects of fire incident management.
With diverse coverage, and edited and authored by recognised experts
in the field, it is intended that this book will provide an essential text
for those working in toxicology, combustion science, public health, safety
engineering, forensic fire investigation and environmental research.
David Purser
Robert Maynard
James Wakefield
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP009
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank the authors for contributing their time and
expertise. We would also like to thank the Royal Society of Chemistry
commissioning editors and production team for their advice, patience
and support during the preparation of the chapter manuscripts and their
development to the final printed book.
08:00:04.
ix
08:00:04.
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP009 View Online
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP011
Dedication
xi
08:00:04.
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP011 View Online
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP013
conditions, including the surface area and thermal properties of the walls
and ceiling, the dimensions and locations of vents such as open doors or
windows, wind velocity and direction, ambient temperature, humidity and
pressure.
Combustion: exothermic reaction of a substance with an oxidizing
agent.
Combustion product: solid, liquid or gaseous material resulting from
combustion.
Equivalence ratio: fuel : air ratio divided by fuel : air ratio required for a
stoichiometric mixture.
Exposure dose: measure of the maximum amount of a toxic gas or fire
effluent that is available for inhalation, calculated by integration of the area
under a concentration–time curve.
Note 1: for fire effluent, typical units are grams time minute per cubic
metre (g min m3).
xiii
View Online
Note 2: for a toxic gas, typical units are microliters per litre (mL L1) at
T ¼ 298 K and P ¼ 1 atm.
Fire: process of combustion characterized by emission of heat and fire
effluent and usually accompanied by smoke, flame, glowing or a combin-
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP013
ation thereof.
Fire scenario: qualitative description of the course of a fire with respect to
time, identifying key events that characterize the studied fire and differen-
tiate it from other possible fires.
Note: it typically defines the ignition and fire growth processes, the fully
developed fire stage, the fire decay stage and the environments and systems
that impact on the course of the fire.
Fire effluent (also known as ‘‘smoke’’): totality of gases and aerosols, in-
cluding suspended particles created by combustion, or pyrolysis in a fire.
Fractional effective concentration (FEC): ratio of the concentration of an
irritant to that concentration expected to produce a specified effect on an
exposed subject of average susceptibility.
Note 1: as a concept, FEC may refer to any effect, including impairment of
escape capability, incapacitation, lethality or other endpoints.
Note 2: when not used with reference to a specific irritant, the term FEC
represents the summation of the FEC value for all measured irritants in a
combustion atmosphere.
08:00:05.
Fractional effective dose (FED): ratio of the exposure dose for a specific
combustion product or mixture of products to that exposure dose predicted
to produce a specified effect on an exposed subject of average susceptibility.
Note 1: as a concept, FED may refer to any effect, including incapacitation,
lethality or other endpoints.
Note 2: when not used with reference of any specific substance, the term
‘‘FED’’ represents the summation of the FED values for all measured
components of a combustion atmosphere.
Flame retardant: substance added, or treatment applied, to a material
in order to suppress or delay the appearance of flame and/or reduce the
flame-spread rate.
Heat release rate: rate of thermal energy production generated by
combustion (essentially the burning rate).
Glowing combustion: combustion of a material in the solid phase without
flame but with emission of light from the combustion zone.
Flaming combustion: combustion in the gaseous phase, usually with
emission of light.
Flashover (stage of fire): transition to a state of total surface involvement in
a fire of combustible materials within an enclosure.
View Online
Contents
1.1 Introduction 1
1.2 Summary of the Main Aspects of the Subject Areas
Addressed in the Book 6
References 9
David A. Purser
2.1 Introduction 13
2.2 Non-flaming and Smouldering Fires 19
2.2.1 Non-flaming Thermal Decomposition 19
2.2.2 Fluorocarbons 23
2.2.3 Fate of Phosphorus in Combustion Products 24
2.2.4 Brief Case Histories of Non-flaming Thermal
Decomposition Incidents 24
2.2.5 Smouldering 25
2.3 Well-ventilated Flaming Fires 26
2.4 Ventilation-controlled (Fuel-rich) Flaming
Fires 30
2.5 Continuous Ventilation-controlled Pre- and
Post-flashover Fires 33
2.6 Examples of Fire Incidents 35
xvii
View Online
xviii Contents
4.1 Introduction 79
4.2 Types of Fires 80
4.2.1 Effects of Thermal Breakdown Conditions 80
4.2.2 Pyrolysis 81
4.2.3 Smouldering 81
View Online
Contents xix
xx Contents
Contents xxi
xxii Contents
Materials 220
7.9 Dose–Effect Relationships and Extrapolation to
Humans 229
7.9.1 General 229
7.9.2 Effects of Allometric Relationships on Rates
of Uptake of Asphyxiant Gases and Time to
Incapacitation 230
7.9.3 AEGL Values for Irritant Gases Released in
Combustion Products 235
7.9.4 Effects of Differences in Body Structure 236
7.10 Conclusions 240
References 241
Contents xxiii
xxiv Contents
10.6.2
Relationship Between Whole Blood
Cyanide and Clinical Condition 329
10.6.3 Effects of Hypocapnia 331
10.6.4 Cyanide Uptake from Inhaled Hydrogen
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-FP017
Contents xxv
References 376
xxvi Contents
Contents xxvii
xxviii Contents
References 504
Contents xxix
xxx Contents
References 571
Contents xxxi
References 597
CHAPTER 1
Overview of Combustion
Toxicology
DAVID A. PURSER*a AND ROBERT L. MAYNARDb
a
Hartford Environmental Research, Hatfield, UK; b University of
Birmingham, UK, Email: [email protected]
*Email: [email protected]
1.1 Introduction
08:00:07.
There can be no doubt that the discovery of how substances can be caused to
burn is the greatest of all human discoveries. Until the discovery of nuclear
fission, combustion was the only known means of causing matter to release
large amounts of stored energy. Combustion remains the overwhelmingly
most important means of releasing such energy; indeed even nuclear power
would be impossible without combustion: metals have to smelted and
fabricated before nuclear reactors can be constructed. Just how important
combustion is can be illustrated by considering a lump of coal, a piece of
wood or a litre of oil: how could one release the energy within these materials
without combustion? From very early times to the present, from the need for
warmth in caves to the apparent need for high speed motor cars, combustion
has played an essential role in man’s development. The essence of the
discovery: that combustion releases heat and that heat, a form of energy, can
do work is known to everybody.
When organic substances burn, they release heat; they also release
chemical products of combustion. The atoms forming the molecules of
organic matter cannot be destroyed by combustion, but they can be caused
to separate from their original combinations and to form other
1
View Online
2 Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 Annual fire deaths in the United Kingdom per million population from
smoke exposure and burns between 1955 and 2012.1
08:00:07.
Figure 1.2 Annual fire injuries in the UK per million population from smoke
exposure and burns between 1955 and 2012.1
growth was rapid and involved the production of large volumes of irritant
smoke, containing high concentrations of particulates, carbon monoxide
and hydrogen cyanide. The dense smoke was therefore much more likely
to impede the escape of occupants, who were then rapidly overcome by
asphyxiant gases and heat.
View Online
4 Chapter 1
introduced from this time was smoke alarms, gradual uptake of which
coincided with a gradual decrease in smoke deaths, although the total
number of fires and the number of smoke injuries continued to increase.
From around 2000, by which time much old upholstered furniture had been
replaced, the incidence of fires and of serious injuries also started to decrease
so that these and the death rate gradually decreased towards the levels of
the 1950s. Toxic smoke exposure remains the man cause of injuries and
deaths in fires. These aspects are discussed further in Chapters 2 and 15.
Another influence may be the decline in the prevalence of cigarette smoking
in the UK over this period (Figure 1.3). This has important implications for
both the incidence of acute fire deaths and injuries (since ‘‘smokers’
materials’’ are reported as a major cause of fatal fires in the annual fire
statistics1) and the long term morbidity and mortality from smoking-related
diseases.2,3 However, the decrease in incidence of smoking over the period up
to 2000 in fact coincides with the increase in the numbers of fires in dwell-
ings. It is possible that the further decline in smoking since 2000, coupled
with the more recent unacceptability of smoking indoors, may be partly re-
sponsible for the decrease in the number of dwellings fires since this time.
08:00:07.
1,00,00,000.00000000
10,00,000.00000000
1,00,000.00000000
Exposure concentrations of interest (µg/m3)
10,000.00000000
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-00001
1,000.00000000
100.00000000
10.00000000
1.00000000
0.10000000
0.01000000
0.00100000
0.00010000
0.00001000
0.00000100
0.00000010
0.00000001
0.00 0.01 0.10 1.00 10.00 100.00 1,000.00 10,000.00 1,00,000.00 10,00,000.00
6 Chapter 1
including nuisance odour, mild eye and respiratory tract irritation and
possibly more serious acute effects on vulnerable individuals.
Long term exposure to ambient air pollutants has been shown to be
associated with a significant effect on health. In this context the concen-
trations of interest are very low, for example in the mg m 3 range for pollu-
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-00001
8 Chapter 1
Although the severe acute health effects during and after exposure at fire
scenes are well established, the significance of acute exposures to dilute
outside smoke plumes from large fires is more controversial. Typically re-
ported are nuisance odour, and minor eye and throat irritation, or breathing
problems, but estimation of the predicted effects can be challenging.
Published on 16 October 2015 on http://pubs.rsc.org | doi:10.1039/9781849737487-00001
World Trade Center fires. The content of the effluent plume from this
incident has led to considerable chronic health effects on exposed subjects.
However, the main effects appear to be related not so much to the com-
bustion products, which largely dispersed as a high altitude plume rather as
at Buncefield, but owe more to the mineral dust and fibre plume released
from the collapsing buildings. This illustrates an important point not
covered elsewhere in the book, that mineral and related particulates can
be carried up into energetic fire plumes during building fires, and then
deposited in the surrounding areas depending on parameters such as the
particle size, density and settlement velocity.
The final section consists of a chapter by Virginia Murray on the public
health aspects of fire management in Chapter 20, titled ‘‘Providing Advice to
Those Exposed to Combustion Products’’.
References
1. Fire Statistics, Great Britain. Published annually by communities and
local government.
2. Trends in Smoking. Lung and asthma information agency, Fact sheet
98/2. St George’s Hospital Medical School. London. 1998.
3. General Lifestyle Survey, Office for National Statistics, 2012.
4. Committee on the Medical Effects of Air Pollutants (COMEAP), Long-term
Exposure to Air Pollution: Effect on Mortality, Department of Health, 2009.
View Online
10 Chapter 1
CHAPTER 2
2.1 Introduction
From the perspective of toxic fire hazard development and fire chemistry
it is possible to classify fires into a range of basic types or stages depending
on the nature of the burning fuel and the setting in which it is burning
(the fire scenario).1
08:00:09.
In any specific fire the toxic hazard at any location and time during a fire
depends on:
Fire dynamics (mass burning rate and dispersal of the fire effluents)
depend upon a range of variables related to the specific fire scenario, but the
yields of toxic products depend upon three main aspects:
13
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The shadow
girl
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.
Illustrator: Smolenski
Language: English
By RAY CUMMINGS
Illustrated by Smolenski.
The screen glowed, not with the normal colors of an interior studio
set, but with what seemed a pale, wan starlight. A blurred image; but
it was slowly clarifying. A dim purple sky, with misty stars.
We sat staring into the depths of the television screen. Depths
unmeasurable; illimitable distance. I recall my first impression when
in the foreground faint gray-blue shadows began forming: was this an
earthly scene? It seemed not. Blurred shadows in the starlight,
crawling mist of shadows, congealing into dim outlines.
We saw presently the wide area of a starlit night. A level landscape of
vegetation. Grassy lawns; trees; a purpling brook, shimmering like a
thread of pale silver in the starlight. The image was sharp now,
distinct, and without suggestion of flicker. Every color rounded and
full. Deep-toned nature, pale and serene in the starlight.
A minute passed. In the center foreground of the vista a white wraith
was taking form. And suddenly—as though I had blinked—there was
a shape which an instant before had not been there. Solid reality. Of
everything in the scene, it was most solid, most real.
A huge, gray-white skeleton tower, its base was set on a lawn where
now I could see great beds of flowers, vivid with colored blossoms.
The brook wound beside it. It was a pentagon tower. Its height might
have been two hundred feet or more, narrowing at the top almost to
a point. Skeleton girders with all the substantiality of steel, yet with a
color more like aluminum.
We were, visually, fairly close to this tower. The image of it stood the
full six feet of our screen. A balcony girded it near the top. A room,
like an observatory, was up there, with tiny ovals of windows.
Another larger room was midway down. I could see the interior—
ladder-steps, and what might have been a shaft with a lifting car.
The tower's base was walled solid. It seemed, as we stared, that like
a camera moving forward, the scene was enlarging—
We found ourselves presently gazing, from a close viewpoint, at the
base of the tower. It was walled, seemingly by masonry, into a room.
There were windows, small and high above the ground. Climbing
vines and trellised flowers hung upon the walls. There was a broad,
front doorway up a stone flight of steps.
And I became aware now of what I had not noticed before: the
gardens surrounding the tower were inclosed with a high wall of
masonry. A segment of it was visible now as a background to the
scene. A wall, looped and turreted at intervals as though this were
some fortress.
The whole lay quiet and calm in the starlight. No sign of human
movement. Nanette said:
"But, Edward, isn't any one in sight? No people—"
And Alan: "Ed, look! There—back there on the wall—"
It seemed on the distant wall that a dark figure was moving. A
guard? A pacing sentry?
And now, other movement. A figure appeared in the tower doorway.
The figure of a girl. She came slowly from within and stood at the
head of the entrance steps. The glow of an interior light outlined her
clearly: a slim, small girl, in a robe faintly sky-blue. Flowing hair, pale
as spun gold with the light shining on it like a halo.
She stood a moment, quietly staring out into the night. We could not
see her face clearly. She stood like a statue, gazing. And then,
quietly, she turned and I caught a glimpse of her face—saw it clearly
for an instant, its features imprinted clearly on my mind. A young girl,
nearly matured; a face, it seemed, very queerly, singularly beautiful—
She moved back into the tower room. There was a sudden blur over
the scene. Like a puff of dissipating vapor, it was gone.
The television screen before us glowed with its uneven illumination.
The color-filters whirled and flashed their merging beams. Everything
was as it had been a few moments before. The broadcasting studios
would not come in. Our apparatus was not working properly. The
frequency ranges were indeterminate. It was grounded badly. Or our
fundamental calibration was in error. Something wrong. What, we
never knew.
But we had seen this vision—flung at us, from somewhere. A vision,
shining clear in every detail of form and color and movement. The
image of things solid and real. Things existing—somewhere.
That was the first of the visions. The second came that same night,
near dawn. We did not dare to touch our instrument. The dials, we
found, had been set by me at random with a resulting wave-length
which could not bring in any of the known broadcasting studios. We
left them so, and did not try to find what might be wrong with the
hook-up. The image had come; it might come again, if we left things
as they were.
We sat, for hours that night, watching the screen. It glowed uneven;
many of its cells were dark; others flickered red and green.
Nanette at last fell asleep beside us. Alan and I talked together softly
so as not to disturb her. We had promised that if anything showed,
we would awaken her. We discussed the possibility. But often we
were silent. The thing already had laid its spell upon us. This vision,
this little glimpse of somewhere. It had come, perhaps, from some
far-distant world? Incredible! But I recall that instinctively I thought
so.
Yet why should I? A tower, and a dim expanse of starlit landscape.
And a girl, humanly beautiful. Surely these were things that could
exist now on our earth. The atmosphere, we knew as a matter of
common everyday science, teems with potential visions and sound.
Alan strove to be more rational. "But, Ed, look here—we've caught
some distant unknown broadcaster."
"But who broadcasts an outdoor scene at night? This is 1945, Alan,
not the year 2000."
He shrugged his wide, thin shoulders. His face was very solemn. He
sat with his long, lean length hunched in his chair, chin cupped in his
palm, the attitude of a youthful, pagan thinker, fronted with a
disturbing problem. But there was a very boyish modernity mingled
with it; a lock of his straight black hair fell on his forehead. He seized
it, twisted it, puzzled, and looked up at me and smiled.
Then Alan said a thing very strange; he said it slowly, musingly, as
though the voicing of it awed him.
"I think it was on Earth. I wonder if it was something that has been,
or that will be—"
It came again, near dawn. The same tower; the same serene, starlit
spread of landscape. The same grim encircling wall, with stalking
dark figures upon it. We did not at first see the girl. The tower
doorway stood open; the room inside glowed with its dim light. A
moment of inactivity; and then it seemed that at this inexplicable
place at which we were gazing—this unnamable time which seemed
the present on our screen—a moment of action had come. A dark
figure on the wall rose up—a small black blob against the background
of stars. The figure of a man. His arm went up in a gesture.
Another figure had come to the tower doorway, a youth, strangely
garbed. We could see him clearly: white-skinned, a young man. He
stood gazing; and he saw the signal from the wall, and answered it.
Behind him, the girl appeared. We could see them speak. An aspect
of haste enveloped all their movements—a surreptitious haste,
furtive, as though this that they were doing was forbidden.
The signal was repeated from the wall. They answered. They turned.
The youth pushed the girl aside. He was stooping at the doorway,
and her eager movements to help seemed to annoy him. He
straightened. He had unfastened the tower door. He and the girl slid
it slowly closed. It seemed very heavy. They pushed at it. The
doorway closed with them inside.
We had awakened Nanette. She sat tense between us, with her long
braids of thick, chestnut hair falling unheeded over her shoulders, her
hands gripping each of us.
"Tell me!"
Alan said: "That door's heavy. They can't close it—yes! They've got it
closed. I fancy they're barring it inside. The thing is all so silent—but
you could imagine the clang of bars. I don't see the guard on the
wall. It's dark over there. There's no one in sight. But, Nan, you can
see that something's going to happen. See it—or feel it. Ed, look!
Why—"
He broke off. Nanette's grip tightened on us.
A change had fallen upon all the scene. It seemed at first that our
instrument was failing. Or that a "hole" had come, and everything
momentarily was fading. But it was not that. The change was
inherent to the scene itself. The tower outlines blurred, dimmed. This
image of its solidarity was dissolving. Real, solid, tangible no longer.
But it did not move; it did not entirely fade. It stood there, a glowing
shimmering wraith of a tower, gray-white, ghostlike. A thing now of
impalpable aspect, incredibly unsubstantial, imponderable, yet visible
in the starlight.
The wall was gone! I realized it suddenly. The wall, and the garden
and the flowers and the stream. All the background, all the
surrounding details gone! The tower, like a ghost, stood ghostly and
alone in a void of shapeless gray mist.
But the stars remained. The purple night, with silver stars. But even
they were of an aspect somehow different. Moving visibly? For an
instant I thought so.
Time passed as we sat there gazing—time marked only by my dim
knowledge that Alan was talking with Nanette. Changes were
sweeping the scene. The gray mist of background under the stars
held a distance unfathomable. A space, inconceivable, empty to my
straining vision.
And then, presently, there were things to see. It seemed that the
infinite had suddenly contracted. The wraith of the tower stood
unchanged. But abruptly I saw that it stood in a deep wooded area,
rearing itself above a tangled forest. A river showed, a mile or so
away, crossing the background in a white line. The stars were gone;
it was night no longer. A day of blue sky, with white-massed clouds.
The sun shone on the distant river.
The tower stood, faded even more in the daylight. I searched the
forest glade around its base. Figures were there! Familiar of aspect; a
group of savages—of this earth? Yes, I could not mistake them:
Indians of North America. Red-skinned, feathered figures, in vivid
ceremonial headdress as though this day they had been dancing in
the forest glade. And saw the strange apparition of this tower. Saw it?
Why, they were seeing it now! Prostrated in a group on the mossy
ground, awed, fear-struck; gazing fearfully upon this thing unknown;
prostrate because this thing unknown must therefore be a god; and
being a god, must be angry and threatening and to be placated.
The vision was more than a glimpse now. It held, vividly persisting in
every reality of its smallest detail. The same space of that forest
glade. But now man called it "Central Park." No ignorant savages
were prostrated here now, before this phantom of the tower. No one
here—
And then I saw, in the foreground, a man in a blue uniform standing
on one of the paths of the park. A light shone on him. He stood,
pressed backward against the light-pole; staring at the tower with a
hand upflung against his mouth. Instinctive fear. But not prostrate
upon the ground. He stood tense. And dropped his hand and stood
peering. Incredulous.
"Ed—see that police officer there! He sees the tower!"
The tower door opened. I fancied I saw the figure of the girl step
furtively out and disappear into the shadows of the starlit park. I
could not be sure. It was dark. But in the background, above the
Metropolitan Museum, above the city buildings lining Fifth Avenue, I
could see that the east was glowing with the coming dawn. A mass of
billowing clouds flushed pink.
I saw the girl step furtively out into the starlit park.
The tower doorway was closed again. The tower melted into a
specter, illusive, tenuous, but still there. A gossamer tower. And then,
it was gone. Everything was gone. But as though, in my fancy, or
perhaps merely the persistence of vision, for one brief instant I
seemed to see the park empty of the intruding tower; and the
policeman, standing there incredulous at this that he had seen which
was now vanished.
The television screen was empty of image. Alan was on his feet. "Ed!
Look at the sky out there! That's the same sky!"
The workshop faced to the east. The same star-strewn sky of the
vision was outside our window—the same sky, with the same
modeling of clouds, flushed with the coming day.
Alan voiced my realization. "Why, that's this dawn we've been seeing!
That tower—in the park behind us—that policeman is out there now
—he saw it! That's today! That just happened—now!"
CHAPTER II
THRESHOLD OF A MYSTERY
It was clear to us, or at least in part, what had occurred. The little
fragment of Space occupied by Central Park, was throughout both the
visions, what we had been seeing. The tower was there; the tower
had not moved—in Space. We had first seen it in some far-distant
realm—of Time. And it had moved, not in Space, but in Time. We had
glimpsed the tower almost stopping, frightening those savages who,
in what we call the Past, were roaming this little island of Manhattan.
The same Space. The same inclosing rivers. But no city back then. Or
perhaps, near the southern end, where the converging rivers merged
in broader water, there might just then have been a group of
struggling settlers. Cabins of hewn, notched logs, stockaded against
the marauding redskins of the adjacent forest. A dense forest then,
was north of the trail called "Maiden Lane." Far up there was this
Space which now we call Central Park, with the great New York now
around it, grown in three short centuries from the infant New
Amsterdam.
And the tower, immovable in Space, had come in Time to 1945. Had
paused. Now. This very morning. Had stopped; and frightened a
policeman of 1945, in Central Park. And then had become again a
phantom, and in another instant, wholly invisible.
I recall my surprise at Alan's apparent understanding of this
incredible thing which had come, all unheralded, upon us.
I found suddenly that there were things in the life of Alan which I did
not know. Things he shared with Nanette; but not with me. An
eagerness was in his manner as we discussed this thing. His dark
cheeks were flushed with emotion; his dark eyes had a queer glow of
excitement.
"I think, Ed, that I can understand a good many things of this. Things
father knew, in theory—things he told me—" He checked himself. And
when I questioned, he stopped me.
"Wait, Ed. It's confusing. It seems—tremendous." He stumbled over
the word, but repeated it. "Tremendous." And then he added: "And
perhaps—dastardly."
What could he mean by that? Nanette said: "But, Alan—that girl—
there was a girl, came here to New York this morning—"
The girl! The shadow girl, from out of the shadows! She, at least,
was something tangible now. We had seen her in Central Park this
morning. The television screen now was vacant. It was destined
never again to show us anything, but that we did not know. We had
seen a girl arriving? Then, if so, she must be here—in Central Park,
now.
Alan said: "I wonder if we should report it. That girl probably will be
found." He had been into one of the other rooms of the small
apartment a few moments before. He drew me there now. "Ed, I
want to show you something significant. Perhaps significant—I don't
know, yet."
Nanette followed after us. The bedroom faced south. We were high in
a towering apartment building, just east of Fifth Avenue.
Over the lower roofs of the city I could see far to the south. In the
waning starlight down there a single searchlight beam was standing
up into the sky.
"Where is it?" I demanded. "The Battery? A ship in the harbor? Or
Staten Island?"
Somewhere down there, a white shaft of light standing motionless. It
was fading in the growing daylight.
"On Staten Island," said Alan. "It's a small searchlight on the roof of
the Turber Hospital. It often stands like that. Haven't you ever
noticed it?"
I supposed I had. But never thought of it. Why should I?
Alan added musingly: "It's queer—because I was wondering if it
would chance to be there now, and there it is."
"But, Alan, see here—you're making a mystery of this. Heaven knows
it's mysterious enough of itself, without your adding more."
Alan smiled wryly. "I threw him out once—a snaky sort of fellow. We
want none of him—do we, sister?"
"No," she said. "Tell Edward about Dr. Turber's life—father's theory."
"It wouldn't mean much to you, Ed. There were things—so father
thought—of mystery about this Turber. Things inexplicable. His
curious, unexplained absences from the hospital. Things about him
which father sensed. And the searchlight, that for no apparent reason
for years now has been occasionally flashing from the hospital roof. It
marks Turber's absence, I know that much."
"And Turber's assistant," said Nanette. "That Indian—whatever he is
—at the hospital."
"Yes. He, too. Father pieced it together into a very strange, half-
formed theory. I have always thought it must have been born of
father's dislike for the fellow. And father told it to me the morning of
his death. That, too, I felt, must have colored it. Father's mind, there
at the last, roaming a little—not quite clear. But this, Ed—this
morning—these visions of ours—we saw them, you know, we can't
deny that. They seem vaguely, to fit. Oh, there's no use theorizing—
not yet. That girl we saw—"
Upon the girl it hinged, of course. The vision was gone. And at best it
was only a vision. But the girl might be real—here in 1945.
We did not report what we had seen to the police. Perhaps we had
fancied that a girl came out of a phantom tower in Central Park this
morning. And, if we had seen it on the television, even so, it might
not actually have happened.
Had there actually been a policeman, there in the park, who had
seen it? And was there existing, here in New York today, this girl of
the shadows?
We waited, and the thing turned tangible indeed! Became a reality,
for presently we learned that it had touched others than ourselves.
The early afternoon papers carried a small item. Some of them put it
on the front page. But it was only a joke—a little thing to read, to
laugh at, and forget. There had been in actuality, a policeman at
dawn in Central Park; and he had been less reticent, more incautious
than ourselves. He had told what he saw. And the newspapers wrote
it:
CHAPTER III
THE GIRL PRISONER
We left Nanette at home and Alan and I started for the Turber
Hospital about three o'clock that same afternoon.
Was this the girl of our visions, now the "victim of amnesia" at Dr.
Turber's Sanatorium? Or was it merely some other girl whose
memory had gone, and whose prosaic parents soon would come to
claim her? Things like that frequently happened. We determined to
find out. Both of us were sure we would recognize her.
From the ferryhouse on Staten Island we took a taxi, a few miles into
the interior. It was an intensely hot, oppressive afternoon—the sun
was slanting in the west when we reached our destination.
I found the Turber Hospital occupying a fairly open stretch of country,
about a mile from the nearest town. It stood on a rise of ground—a
huge quadrangle of building, completely inclosing an inner yard. It
was four stories high, of brick and ornamental stone; balconies were
outside its upper windows, with occasional patients sitting in deck
chairs with lattice shades barring the glare of sunlight.
There were broad shaded grounds about the building—the whole
encompassing, I imagined, some twenty or thirty acres. Trees and
paths and beds of flowers. A heavy, ten-foot ornamental iron fence
with a barbed wire top inclosed it all. A fence which might have been
to keep out the public, but which gave also the impression of keeping
in the inmates. The place looked, indeed, very much like the average
asylum. There was an aura of wealth about it; but, unlike most such
places, also a look of newness.
"Turber built it in the last eight years," said Alan. "He's doing very
well—rich patients of the neurotic, almost insane but not quite,
variety."
There were some of them about the grounds now. Off at one end I
could see tennis courts with games in progress.
"Spent a lot of money," I commented.
"Yes—they say he's very rich."
Bordering the grounds was a scattered, somewhat squalid
neighborhood of foreigners. We had crossed a trolley line and
ascended a hill arriving at the main gateway of the institution. I
glanced back through the rear window of our taxi. We were on a
commanding eminence; I could see across the rolling country, over
several smoky towns to New York Harbor; the great pile of buildings
on lower Manhattan was just visible in the distant haze.
The gatekeeper passed us at Alan's request to see Dr. Turber. Our
taxi swung up a winding roadway to the porte-cochere at the side of
the building.
"Will he see us?" I demanded.
"If he's here, I imagine he will."
"But you're not, even outwardly, friends?"
He shrugged. "We speak pleasantly enough when we have occasion
to meet. So long as he lets Nanette alone."
We were ushered into the cool quiet of a reception room. The white-
clad nurse said that doubtless Dr. Turber would see us presently—he
was busy at the moment. She left us.
It was a fairly large room of comfortable wicker chairs; Oriental rugs
on a hardwood, polished floor; a large wicker center table strewn
with the latest magazines. A cool, dim room; there were broad
French windows, with shades partly drawn and additionally shrouded
with heavy velvet portieres across the window alcove.
We had seated ourselves. Alan drew his chair nearer to mine. He
spoke softly, swiftly, with an eye upon the archway that gave onto
the main lower corridor down which the nurse had gone.
"I was thinking, Ed—when Turber comes—we've got to have some
excuse for seeing the girl."
"Yes, but what?"
"Tell him—I'll tell him you're a newspaper man. Some of them have
been here already, no doubt. We won't go into it—you won't have to
say much."
I was, in actuality, a pilot in the mail service from Bennett Field down
the coast to Miami. I was off now, these three summer months. But
posing as a newspaper man was out of my line.
"I don't know," I said dubiously. "I have no credentials. If he asks me
—"
"I'll do most of the talking, Ed." He jumped up suddenly, went to
glance into the corridor, and came back. "Come here, I want to show
you something."
He drew me to the windows. We pushed the portieres aside, and
raised one of the shades. We were some ten feet above the level of
the paved inner courtyard. Alan murmured: "Just look, Ed—queer
construction of this place! I've often wondered, and so did father."
Queer construction indeed! The quadrangular building completely
inclosed this inner yard. At the basement level it was all normal
enough. Windows and doors opening from what seemed engine
rooms; the kitchen; the laundry. And at this first story it was normal
also. These windows through which we were looking; and other
windows and occasional balconies in each of the wings. But above
this first story there were three others and then the flat roof above
them. And in these three upper floors so far as I could see there was
not a window! Nothing but the sheer, blank stone walls!
"What would you make of that, Ed? Crazy architecture—they said
that when the place was built. There are no courtyard rooms at all in
the upstairs floors—nearly half the building goes to waste. Turber
designed it—"
"But what did he say?"
"Nothing much, I fancy. It was his own business. Perhaps, merely
that he could afford the luxury of all outside rooms for his patients.
And look at that inner building—"
The courtyard was perhaps two hundred feet long, by half as wide.
In its center was an oblong brick building, a hundred feet by sixty
possibly—and not quite as high as the roof of the main structure.
From the angle at which we were gazing, I could see the full front
face of this smaller building, and part of one of its ends. It had not a
window! Nor a door, except one, very small, at the ground in the
center of the front!
"Turber's laboratory," said Alan. "At least, that's what it's supposed to
be. That one door—nothing else. It's always locked. Nobody has even
been in there but Turber, and his Indian assistant. Father once talked
with the builders of this place, Ed. That laboratory is nothing but two
small rooms at the ground level here in front. All the rest is just four
solid brick walls inclosing an inner empty space! What's it for?
Nobody knows. But people talk. You can't stop them. Turber's
employees here. And most of all, his patients—not quite sane. They
talk—of ghosts—things mysteriously going on inside those walls—"
People—not quite sane—talking of things unknowable. But I was
wholly sane; and as I stood there, gazing at the shadows of twilight
gathering in this inner courtyard; the blank upper walls of the large
building turning dark with night; the smaller one, standing blank and
silent in the courtyard—the whole place seemed suddenly ominous,
sinister!
A step sounded in the room behind us. I started violently; I had not
realized how taut were my nerves. We dropped the portieres hastily,
and left the window. Turber?
But it was not he. A young man stood before us. He was dressed in
flannels and a shirt open at the throat. He carried a tennis racket.
"Well," said Alan. "How are you, Charlie? Been playing tennis? You
remember me, don't you?"
A good-looking young fellow. He said: "Do I? You were here once
before, weren't you? I saw you in here with Dr. Turber."
"Yes," said Alan. "Let's sit down, Ed. How are you, Charlie?"
We sat down. Charlie stood before us. "I've been playing tennis. Is
the doc coming here to see you?" His face clouded. "You're all right,
aren't you? My mother said—" He was addressing me. "My mother
said—but look here, don't pay any attention to your mother if she
says you're sick. Don't you do it! I did it, and my mother said I'll put
you in here and make you well. So look what happened to me—I'm in
here."
I met Alan's glance. Alan said: "Well, that's fine, Charlie. And you're
better, aren't you?"
"Yes." He hesitated; then he added: "I'm better, and I'd like to help
you get better. I was thinking that, last time I saw you. I like you—
very much."
"Do you, Charlie? That's nice of you."
"Yes. You're a friend of mine—'Friends sturdy and true' I was thinking
—that's us."
He turned suddenly away. He took a step toward the window, and
came back. His face had wholly changed; a look of cunning was on it;
his voice low, quivering, dramatic.
"You were looking out there when I came in. Strange things go on
out there—but you can't see them in the daytime!"
"Can't you?" said Alan. "I was looking—"
"I've seen them—at night. I've got a way to see them any time I
want to. From the roof. If you get put in here—I'll show you—maybe.
Because we're friends."