Rubbish
Major Sakhee Bhure drove the lead vehicle in the UNIRO convoy. Being from Mumbai she was used to the congestion in the city of over twelve million people, India's largest. The honking of horns and the screeching of brakes were constant amongst the ever-present buzz of conversation in the compact streets. Even with the convoy’s sirens and blue flashing lights, it was slow going.
On either side of the dusty road were overcrowded slums, built from sheet metal, crumbling bricks, tarps, and whatever other scraps the locals could find at the dumping site. Trash lined the street they were traversing, most of it plastic in varying states of decay. Occasionally a loud pop could be heard as their tires passed over tossed water bottles.
About two miles from the dumping site the convoy hit the nocuous, gray smoke. Back on base by the sea the smoke was only a foul smelling haze; here though, up close to the flaming landfill, it was almost unbearable.
"Masks on," Bhure radioed her fellow personnel in the convoy.
"It looks like it’s gotten worse," noted Rescue Officer Jugesh Sundram sitting in the passenger seat beside her as he put on his oxygen mask.
"Certainly does, doesn't it," Bhure replied, putting on her mask. She leaned forward, trying to see the smoke’s point of origin, but visibility had decreased to only a few feet.
Sundram looked out his window at the squalor. "This isn't right," he said sadly. "I feel guilty."
"Why?" Bhure asked, trying to focus on not hitting anyone.
"We live in such luxury on Base Defiant. We have everything… These people have nothing." Sundram sighed. "My people… I feel like we've forgotten them living behind our walls. We're only here because the smoke plume started to affect base."
"Hey!" Bhure called sharply. "They're my people too," she said. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten them. I used to live here you know."
"You did?"
"Yes," Bhure said, looking as if she was remembering something. "I thought I'd never leave. I haven't forgotten," she smiled.
Sundram stayed in silence.
"We'll change this," insisted Bhure. "Many living in here believe this is everything life will give them," she said, shaking her head. "They have to be shown that isn't true. They have to see there is more. We can do that," she said, slapping Sundram's arm. "We're the proof."
An explosion suddenly rocked the vehicle. Bhure turned the wheel to the left, rounding a sharp corner. The trucks in the convoy could now barely fit through the streets with the increasing urban density of the slum. Smoke began to somewhat clear, finally revealing the scale of disaster. Over a line of fragile shacks and huts lay a looming hillside of garbage. This was the infamous Deonar dumping ground and, like the distinction of its host city, it was the largest of its kind in the country.
By Bhure's measure it had to be at least seventy feet high and spanned for over a mile in either direction from her point of view, lining the entire east side of the slum. Massive flames were bursting from its top, making the mountain of trash look more like a volcanic eruption, complete with billowing toxic smoke and ash. Small explosions leapt from the flames, throwing burning pieces of debris skyward, into the shantytown, starting secondary fires.
Panic was beginning to ensue amongst those residents closest to the dump. Bhure stopped her truck, unable to move against the worrying crowd. A group of city fire firefighters were a hundred feet up the road, trying to unravel their hoses and clear the shacks.
"This is insane," said Sundram worryingly, peering up out the cab windows.
"All UNIRO personnel standby," Bhure radioed. "Stay in your vehicles. I repeat, stay in your vehicles. I want to get an assessment of the situation first."
"Copy that," radioed the third vehicle.
"Roger," said the second. "Standing by."
"Sundram, deploy the sensor boom and get the drone up. Get me a temperature reading and air quality sample."
"Yes, ma'am," Sundram replied, flipping a switch on an overhead panel.
A telescoping sensor boom emerged from the top of the cab. A small quadcopter simultaneously lifted off from a holding deck at the back of the truck, zooming over the street and up to the top of the dump. Footage from the drone was soon relayed to a center screen on the dashboard.
"Switch to thermal," Bhure ordered, fixed on the footage.
A blast of colors came up on the screen, revealing an ominous threat.
"Temperatures are over 500 degrees Celsius up there," Sundram said, reading the incoming data. "The fire appears to be deep inside of the dump as well, not just on the surface. Something like this could take months to put out. The air isn't looking too good either. Sensors are picking up high levels of carbon monoxide, PCB's, furans, cyanide, and… And dioxins."
Bhure looked over at Sundram troublingly. "Dioxins?" she repeated. "That’s one of the deadliest chemicals in the world."
"Yeah," Sundram reaffirmed, staring over the dashboard into the scuttling crowd. "All of these people… We, need to get them out of here."
Three quick blasts spewed from the landfill, raining debris down across the area. A piece of flaming furniture landed on the roof of the cab. Smoking papers and napkins fluttered down. Melted plastic globs slammed through tin roofs like meteors.
"These people are literally being buried by our own garbage!" Sundram exclaimed as another piece of rubbish hit their truck. "We have to help, Major!"
"Our orders were to only perform basic recon and report back," Bhure quickly reminded. "We are not authorized yet to assists with any rescue operations until UNIRO opens next year. You know that, Rescue Officer!"
"What happened to 'we'll change this,' huh!?" Sundram cried angrily. "If we show up here just to look around they'll never trust us! We'll never be the proof you spoke of!"
"Watch your tone, Rescue Officer Sundram!" Bhure yelled. "We are only one squadron with nowhere near enough supplies to deal with this right now. We can't be the proof if we're dead."
From over the row of shacks a fiery roar sunk down into the road. People screamed in terror as the flames nearly doubled in size with from strong gusts of wind.
"Can we at least call in a water drop, Major?" Sundram pleaded. "It could give these people some time to escape!"
"Rescue Officer, we - "
A huge piece of flaming debris crashed thirty feet in front of their truck, exploding on impact. Several dozen people fell all at once to the ground, crying out in pain and shock. The truck quaked with the impact. Another piece of debris hit the vehicle’s sensor boom, snapping it clear off. In seconds the crowded street turned into a full-fledged panic. A stampede was starting. Men and women began running over each other, trying to escape the rising flames and heat.
Sundram saw a young woman fall about ten feet in front of the cab, disappearing helplessly into the chaos.
"Screw it," he muttered, opening the passenger door.
"No!" Bhure yelled. "Rescue Officer Sundram stay in the truck! That’s an order!"
Sundram jumped into the surge of humanity, fighting against its tide. He pushed and shoved, each step seemingly taking him nowhere. Someone stepped on his boot. Another frantic individual accidently punched his oxygen mask off. Sundram was temporarily overcome by the smell of the smoke. His eyes started to burn and his throat swell.
He violently started to cough as he continued working his way to the woman being trampled. Finally, after what felt like minutes in what would normally be a three second walk, he reached her. Sundram pushed people aside as he knelt down to pick up the trembling woman. She was bleeding from the head and barely conscious. As he did so someone kicked him in the face, knocking him over.
"Stop, please!" he cried up into the stampede. "Stop!"
No one could hear him in the commotion. Sundram took hit after hit to his face and chest. He lost sight of the smoky sky. He tried looking through people's legs to find the truck but it was hidden behind an impermeable wall of flesh. Air was bashed from his lungs. His coughing continued.
"Help," he wheezed, reaching upwards. "Help!"
Someone's hand forcibly grabbed his shoulder and ripped him up off the ground. It was Major Bhure.
"Let’s go, you idiot!" she shouted through her mask.
Sundram aimlessly nodded his head, trying to suck air back into his body. Bhure shoved a mask onto his face.
"Breathe," she instructed. "Just breathe."
Sundram listened and took deep, long breaths. "Thank, thank you," he gasped. "Thank you…"
A rumble turned their attention to the dump. It wasn't an explosion or the swaying flames.
"What is that?" Sundram asked.
"Get back to the truck…" Bhure ordered. "Now!"
Suddenly the entire burning slope of the dump gave way in an earthshaking reverberation. The solid waste spilled over itself like a chunky liquid pouring out of a can. Smoke released from the landfill’s burning interior instantly spread out across the street, reducing visibility back to zero. The last thing Sundram saw before the poisonous veil overtook him was the landslide of trash bulldozing through the slum, destroying and burying everything in its path. Screams were silenced under its crushing movement as its contents suffocated.
Sundram and Bhure raced back to their vehicle. Each threw open a cab door and hurdled inside, slamming them shut in unison.
"All squadron members stay inside your vehicles," Bhure urgently radioed. "Stay inside! A debris flow is going to hit us any second."
People banged on the cab windows, begging to be let in. One man tried to use a crowbar and smash his way through the driver side window. Bhure covered her head as flakes of glass showered over her with each hit of the crowbar. A thin strip of tin pierced the front window, embedding itself just to the left of Sundram's headrest. The milky gray haze that surrounded them was pushed away by a brown and black pile of garbage that overcame their vehicle in seconds. The two rescuers felt the heavy truck be thrust backwards into the truck behind them. Boiling dirt, scrap, and plastic entombed the convoy, burying everyone in it alive.