Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 8 Part 1 Escape from disaster but not the press.

It was as if I were in a dream, in my ears the rising whine of the opposite carriageway traffic, and the frequent clatter of helicopters. I was walking in the hot bright sun through long grasses and wild summer flowers being tended by bees, and yet at my right, chaos; big white bubbles hiding pain and carnage, strewn along the road like rounded rocks on a sea shore. 

I came level with the remains of the fire. A freighter was upside down lying across three lanes, its load of drums sprayed in an arc, some burning fiercely but under control surrounded in a ring of foam, others ruptured open and blackened, and yet more intact ones being rolled to safety by the fire crews. The freighter was blackened, dark smoke spilled into the sky, and turned the sunlight brown. The emergency services had deployed two cranes which had lifted several tens of taxis, cars and light vans and parked them in two lanes of the northbound carriageway. The burst, blackened and distorted vehicles had been piled up against the freighter. The fate of the passengers was horrible to contemplate. 

Although the freighter had caused the fire it had not been the cause of the accident. The pile up extended 400 metres further south. The front of this chain of destruction was a pile of shattered plastic and glass and tortured metal shapes, wheels, bodies, upholstery and exploded suitcases. The jumble consisted of two long distance buses, a freighter, and a number of Comtaxis. The buses were at an angle across the three lanes, locked together side to side head to head. 

I forebore approaching closer for two press helicopters had landed, and camera crews were setting up. Already they were buttonholing the emergency personnel, and I could see gestures that gave a clue to the arguments that were never broadcast, between the vultures for sensation, and those who wanted to carry on with their rescue work unimpeded. 

I looked ahead. Across the field was the exit lane from the motorway, and increasing my distance from the main carriageway, I intersected the lane as it led onto the cross road under the motorway leading East to Loughton. I tapped information on the 'phone. This was the luxury version where there was a person to talk to, not a computer, for this was no time for cost paring. After some work the operator was able to despatch a Comtaxi to a lay-by to which she gave me directions. I gratefully collapsed on the seat, and having gone through the routine with the Amex, and the terminal, I blacked out. 

I was awoken by a piercing whistle and someone tapping on the roof. We were in the taxi rank outside the hotel, and the receptionist was looking inside. The whistle was being generated by the terminal, which was flashing "Please leave now - 30 seconds to electric shock." The noise stopped as I released the seat belt, and the door opened. The receptionist who had helped me get the hirecar, had recognised me as she came off shift. She asked, "Wasn't the hirecar alright?" 

I still felt rough and wanted to curl up somewhere, so I said, "Oh I took another route and left it at the Avis depot. Thanks for asking." 

I got my key, put the 'Do not disturb' sign on the door, stripped, showered and flopped into bed. I awoke later, it was still light and I looked at my watch which indicated 12.43 through a cracked lens. However the second hand was fixed. That was crash time. I looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was 6.27. Still fuzzy headed I assumed it was morning, but was put right by Room Service when I suggested breakfast. I had to ask what day it was and realised I had only been asleep for around three hours. I got up and put on a bathrobe. 

Room service said, "Breakfast?" when I gave my room number the second time, "No, I'm the right way up now. But I could do with something of a good sized snack and a big pot of coffee." We agreed on an English version of a club sandwich. 

I rang Alicia. I started to give a brief account of my adventures but she cut me short. 

"Charles I must warn you the TV stations' newshounds are looking for you."