Sunniland by Stephen O Sears

Author:Stephen O Sears
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indigo River Publishing
Published: 2019-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The rotating bit was encountering small pockets of natural gas as it pulverized the layers of porous limestone. Like a microscopic sponge filled with ammonia, the calcareous matrix of the rock emitted gas when crushed and turned into tiny crystals of clear calcite. The gas formed tiny bubbles in the drilling mud, and then escaped to the atmosphere when the mud was circulated to a steel tank called a gas buster at the surface, resembling carbon dioxide bubbles breaking out of a soda bottle. The escaping gas created a vapor of methane that was collected by powerful fans and sent on a path to the flare tower. The tower was a vertical pipe located off to the side of the clearing, the tip designed to burn off gas like a huge Bunsen burner in a chemistry laboratory. A routine operation, as long as the equipment worked as expected.

Jerry stood by the shale shaker, watching the cuttings being separated from the circulating mud by the horizontal motion of the machine. Mud returning from the bottom of the well was flushed from a hose onto the shaking screens, then washed down into the mud tanks. The broken shards were retained on the screen, and the cleansed mud was ready to be pumped down the drill string again. Small pieces of rock broken loose by the rotating teeth of the bit, the cuttings were flat chips about the size of a flake of coarse pepper. To Jerry they looked like dolomite and anhydrite, which he expected at this depth. Scratching an ant bite, he looked toward the flare tip at the edge of the drilling location. The flare was out. Evidently the pilot light had malfunctioned again, and unburnt gas flowing from the flare tip was escaping into the marsh. Not according to protocol, but not unheard of.

A raccoon walking through the grass underneath the flare tip suddenly began to shake in quick, erratic twitches. It took a few more steps, then fell flat and rested motionless on the ground. A bird perched on the unlit flare tip suddenly fell to the mud. Jerry noticed several more birds in the mud nearby, lying in unnatural positions. Disturbed by the unexplained paralysis of the birds and animals, he ran to the drill shack. Pushing open the door, he saw Joe sitting at his desk, eating a leftover piece of pie from Eileen’s noon meal. Jerry spoke calmly but very rapidly, “Why are those dead birds on the ground underneath the flare tip?”

Joe looked out the window and yelled to a roughneck: “Light the goddam flare. We must have some sour gas.”

The man went into the control room and pushed a button, intending to create a spark at the flare tip and ignite the vapors. Nothing happened. Lighting a small torch at the end of a pole, he set off toward the flare, intending to use the torch like a kitchen match held to a stove. Halfway out, he collapsed on the ground. Joe took a deep breath, ran down the path and picked up the torch.

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