Connected (F1 Story)

Chapter Thirty Seven: Believe

There were only a few more seconds of silence I could take before I lost it.

And in that time, the race had been red flagged. Maldonado had also spun off the track, although his vehicle was recognisable as a Formula 1 car. Daniel's wasn't.

"Someone tell me he's okay!" I said, trying hard not to cry. Christian Horner and others were down from the pit wall and that's how every fibre of me knew it was nothing short of extremely serious.

I felt dizzy as I ventured out into the main hub of the garage. Usually the pit crew guys were always ready to share a joke, but now most of the guys were stood up with blank expressions on their faces. Some were pacing the space, with their helmets off and placed under their chairs. Un-busy, unsure of what was going on. Unsure of what exactly to do.

"Where's Saskia?" An urgent voice cut through the quiet. Paul came running in from the back of the garage and began searching for me. Ever the figure of calm in difficult situations, Paul was wearing a blank expression. I don't suppose he knew that was going on yet either. Not fully, anyway.

"Is he okay?" was all I could manage.

"Get in the ambulance," he said, still not giving anything away. "Out back."

With people watching me, I legged it past engineers of all kinds as other cars began to pull up in the pits. This was normal protocol after a red flag incident.

My headset was ripped off as I left the perimeter of the garage; I couldn't stomach the not knowing anymore.

My legs were beginning to shake and the fear was finally beginning to sink in. This was Daniel's life on the line here.

I spotted the medical vehicle and jumped in the back where a paramedic was preparing all sorts of equipment. It was then I learnt that an emergency bike had gone ahead to reach him first.

The ride was the worst few minutes of my life. Turn six seemed a whole different lifetime away, despite the sirens and flashing lights.

Please be okay.

We pulled up sharply and the paramedic fell forward with the force, making me startle.

"Do you want to wait here?" he asked, his Brazilian accent thick.

"No," I shook my head, adamant. I needed to see him.

The doors were opened and the accident was revealed. The smoke was now gone and instead it was dust that hung in the air, thick dust that was a mixture of carbon fibre and paint work. The most expensive dust you'll ever see.

It was then I realised that he was being cut out of his car. For he was trapped.

I moved closer, the lump in my throat growing bigger by the millisecond.

How could this be?

"Stand back," a man barked, ordering me to move. I didn't want to move, I wanted to be as close to him as possible.

"Helicopter is on its way. Three minutes maximum," someone, I didn't know who, shouted.

I stood, unable to do anything, my hands trembling as the sun burned down on my uncovered shoulders.

"Can I speak to him?" I asked the paramedic next to me. There wasn't much use for him at the moment- there were already several personnel around him, surveying the situation.

He looked me in the eye and must have seen I was his partner.

"Come," he said, his eyes thick with sympathy.