Free Fire by Terra Harmony Page A

before raising his hand to knock.
    No answer.
    He sighed, then turned the handle to poke his head in. The news couldn't wait. "Sir? We have local protesters."
    "And?" The manager didn't even look up from his laptop.
    "And they are blocking the trucks from entering the work area." Randy entered the room, closing the door behind him.
    "So run them over."
    "Sir?"
    His boss finally stopped clacking away on the keyboard and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, I'm not the decision maker here. I just make sure the big boss back home is happy. And what the big boss wants is for the trucks to get there, and the methane extraction to begin. I have enough to deal with this yahoo Rwandan company running operations on the barge." He rose and walked to his large picturesque window looking out at the expansive Lake Kivu.
    Randy joined him at the window. "Who is the big boss?"
    He shrugged. "Some majority shareholder – I don't know. Never met him. But the board has been backing all of his decisions." He turned on his second in command. "So if you want to keep your job, I suggest you take care of the situation."
    Randy reluctantly left the office, wondering how in God's name he was going to get the trucks through. He should've listened to his wife and passed on the job. But the money offered couldn't be passed up, even after his teenage daughter's research on the lake revealed ominous warnings of the potential release of carbon dioxide into the air.
    Randy boarded the small, motorized boat, and the driver motioned for him to sit as they bounced over the water. As they traveled, Randy decided his best bet would be to let the locals deal with the locals. The large KivuWatt barge in the middle of the lake grew bigger. Operations to separate and clean the gasses had been underway for more than a week. Precious gasses held underneath the lake could generate twenty-five megawatts of electrical capacity, thereby increasing Rwanda's energy generation capability by twenty times. With these stakes, the required approvals made it through the Rwandan government in record time.
    About halfway to the barge, Randy heard a commotion back on the shore. People ran, covering their heads. Many stumbled and fell, quickly getting trampled in the panic that seemed to grip the entire shoreline. Had the protests gone south already?
    Randy shook his head. Doesn't take long in this country.
    But there was no gunfire, just screaming. Randy stood, realizing his tiny boat was vibrating from more than just the engine. The water around him rippled unnaturally. A loud rumbling, like a freight train shaking a city, started in the distance. Randy and the boat driver turned to look. Landslides. Several of them, dumping debris, buildings, and people into the lake.
    Turning white, Randy shouted at the boat driver, "Gas masks!"
    The driver looked at him, confused.
    Randy began rummaging through the tiny storage bin on the boat, throwing aside life jackets and a first aid kit. "We need gas masks!"
    Randy and his driver were in between the only two places where gas masks were stored. Randy yelled, "Help! Somebody help us!"
    Their small boat was still moving forward, but there wasn't enough time to cover the distance. The boat veered off course, and Randy looked at the driver. He was clutching at his throat and chest, gurgling with the effort to breathe.
    Randy screamed again, first at the barge, then to the shore. But everyone was succumbing to their own panic.
    Ten seconds , Randy thought, while he stepped back from the driver, as far as the small boat would allow him to go. The asphyxiated brain loses consciousness in ten seconds . Randy tore off his shirt, dipped it in the lake water, and attempted to breathe the soaked cotton fibers instead of the poisoned air. It didn't work.
    He began gasping, his lungs working to pull in oxygen. All they got was the deadly carbon monoxide released from the earthquake, or perhaps from the landslides caused by the earthquake. The sounds around