by Matt Shaw
I shook my head. There’s not even a message, like there was earlier - just the strangely eerie sound of nothingness.
“Nothing,” I said. I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket. I started to feel sick.
“What’s wrong?” asked the second female.
I looked back at my car. Already cars had queued up behind me. Still no vehicles were coming from the other direction. A quick thought flashed through my head - I could just jump in my car and speed past all of the traffic, down to where the road-block is. Explain to the officers on guard duty that my children are at school and I want to get them away from any potential violence.
“Are you okay?” the man asked. A genuine look of concern on his face. I couldn’t help but wonder whether that was because he was actually worried about me or because he could see my idea formulating in my see-through mind - an idea that, realistically, we both knew was a bad idea.
Fuck it, I thought.
I turned back to my car and rushed over to the driver’s side. I twisted the key, back in the ignition, as I jumped in and the engine coughed into life. The group was just watching me - expressions of confusion on their faces. None of them can have children - at least, none of them can have children who could potentially be close to any full scale riot, otherwise I’m sure they’d be doing the same as me.
Without any further hesitation I slammed my foot on the accelerator and pressed forward, on the opposite side of the road without a care in the world other than the safety of my children.
“It’s okay,” I told myself, “Emma probably didn’t even get them to the school anyway. They’re probably sat in the traffic jam - just a little further down from where I was earlier. She’s probably shouting at them to be quiet whilst the sun beats down upon the car causing them all to be grumpy. That’s it, I’m sure.”
Even so - better safe than sorry.
Cars, bikes, vans, lorries - all queued up to get into town. All irritated by the fact that I was overtaking them all, speeding down the other side of the road hoping, and praying, that I didn’t come into any oncoming traffic. A quick look into my rear-view mirror and I could see another car had decided to follow my course of action. I didn’t know whether this was out of desperation to get their own children or just because they were impatient with the unmoving stream of vehicles. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
I turned the next corner and saw the road-block. A row of police cars - with their lights flashing - lined across the road making any passing an impossibility. One of the officers stepped forward, when he saw me, and started slowly waving his arms as though telling me to slow down. He didn’t need to tell me. It’s not as though there was much of a choice.
I slowed to a stop and the officer began to approach my car. I didn’t wait for him to get to me. Instead, I jumped out and ran over to him.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to get back in the car and turn around...” he said - a stern tone in his voice which should have been enough to tell me not to mess with him but - well - fuck him.
“My kids are in the town. I need to go and get them.”
“That’s not going to be possible yet. As you can see we’ve had to close...”
“I don’t give a shit about what you’re telling me,” I said, “I need to get to my kids. Someone, back there, said people were rioting near to where their school is...”
“I’m afraid we don’t know what is going on yet...”
“Well clearly you know something is wrong because you’ve blocked the fucking roads into the...”
“Sir...Please get back into your car and turn around. Unless you want me to book you for dangerous driving?” the officer’s voice seemed to sound sterner than before. Obviously well practiced at laying down the law. Still don’t give a shit.
Over the officer’s shoulder, I saw another officer approaching from behind his road-block.
“Hey, buddy, we’re all waiting here - get back in your car and get to the back of the queue,” some bloke called out from where he was standing next to his own car.
“Mind your own fucking business!” I shouted at him.
“What seems to be the problem here?” asked the second officer.
“There isn’t a problem,” his partner said. “This gentleman was just getting back into his car and turning around,” he continued.
“Like fuck I was. Your partner here was just about to move one of the cars so I could go through and get my children.”
I’m not sure when the roaring noise started, from somewhere above us. I didn’t register it straight away. I was more concerned about arguing with the two policemen as to whether they should, or shouldn’t let me go through. Apparently there was a problem in town and the whole area had to be contained. Neither of them would say what it was. At least, I don’t think either of them were telling me the whole story. It was hard to tell over the roaring which was impossible to ignore now - along with the screaming of the people who were waiting for the incident to pass and the traffic to begin flowing again.
I looked up, following the alarmed gaze of the two police officers, and my mouth dropped open as a large plane flew about a hundred or so feet above our heads, one of the wings tilted towards the ground in a way which meant it would have been impossible for it to correct itself at this late stage. The roar of the engines was deafening and you couldn’t help but to put your hands over your ears to try and protect them.
I watched as the plane disappeared behind a row of houses a little further down the road. I watched as people ran for cover - all frantic to get away. Arms flailing around in blind panic. Their mouths wide open - obviously screaming - not that you could hear and then...The loudest bang you could ever imagine followed by a fireball which shot up into the atmosphere with a plume of thick, black smoke, along with pieces of debris which scattered in all directions - one very large piece of, I don’t know what, crushing one of the police cars in the process.
“GET BACK TO YOUR CAR!” one of the officers screamed at me as he ran in the direction of the plane crash. For what I don’t know - nothing could have survived that. If there were people on board, and by the size of the plane I’m guessing there were, they’d be dead for sure. The other police officer followed.
I looked around, dazed after what I had witnessed. My ears ringing from the explosion and the previous din of the engine. Despite the ringing, I could hear the people screaming now. Some were just screaming, others screaming for help. Most of the officers had run in the direction of the crash to see if they could help, to see if there was anything they could do. Only a couple had remained behind at their cars - what was left of them - screaming for the civilians, such as myself, to get back.
What the hell is going on?
A fight broke out, between an officer and someone with a cut on their face. Where they got the cut from, I don’t know. Perhaps hit by a piece of shrapnel from somewhere? It looked as though the person with the cut was trying to get past when the police officer stopped him. Tempers high and stress levels rising - I’m not sure who threw the first punch but it wasn’t long before a couple of the other officers joined in to try and restore what little peace they could before other civilians joined in as well. I took the opportunity to make a run for it - leaving my car with the door open and engine running. I’m more concerned about getting to my children, right now, then whether some lowlife seizes the opportunity to steal my car. Besides, it’s a company vehicle. Fuck them.
I darted down an alleyway to the right of me. With the police distracted, by the chaos and carnage, it wasn’t hard to slip down there unnoticed. Slip down the alleyway and go over the fences and bushes to sneak on by. A simple plan, I thought.
I climbed the first wall I came across; someone’s garden. Perched on the top of it I was shocked to see the destruction the plane had caused. I could see the wreckage, a few gardens away where the plane had dropped from the sky. It had completely obliterated at least one house - in fact, had it not been for the fa
ct that I knew what was standing there before the impact, you’d never have guessed a house had ever been there. The gardens were also destroyed. Even the garden which I was about to drop into had little fires dotted around caused by leaking jet engine fuel and, I’m guessing, some sparks on the dry leaves. The sheer scale of the destruction, knowing that I couldn’t see it all, sent a shiver down my spine despite the blazing heat of the morning sun. How far did this wreck go on for? I...We had come so close to dying. And speaking of dying, bodies are lying in the garden. I’m unsure as to whether they were thrown from the wreckage, on impact, or if they were the people who lived here - out in the garden having decided not to go anywhere due to the road block in the street. Or maybe they had been kept inside, not allowed to leave, for their own safety. The irony.
As I lowered myself down into the garden I wondered whether I’d even be able to get past using this route. Unsurprisingly the first garden was fairly easy to navigate my way across and I was soon standing by the next wall. A quick glance over the top and I could already see the next one, although not impossible, was going to be a little trickier.
I pulled myself onto the wall, thanking God for keeping me so skinny making my task easier than it might have been, and tried not to gag on the stench of burning fuel as I lowered myself down the other side. A quick survey of the garden; more broken pieces of the aircraft. No idea what they are, or what they were when they were complete - at least, other than the fact they’re from a plane. Debris and limbs. At least it must have been quick for them.
A brief moment of terror and then eternal nothingness.
As I carefully navigated my way to the next garden wall, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going wrong with the world today. Riots in the city centre and a plane dropping from the sky within a few miles of each other. Something big must have happened during the night to be the cause. Trust me to sleep through it. Whatever it was.
A noise, from the rubble on the opposite side of the garden distracted my rather confused thought processes. I looked over to see what the commotion was and was shocked to see a hand emerge. It was blackened, my doubt caused by the smoke, and looked to be covered in blood. Seconds later I saw the rest of the person it was attached to. A young man, with short black hair. He looked battered and bruised, unsurprisingly. If it weren’t for the fact he was moving from the wreckage, coming towards me, and groaning - you could have easily mistaken him for someone already dead.
I noticed his arm was twisted at an angle which could have only meant it was broken. And, looking at it, not just in one place either. No wonder his facial expression was one of pain.
He raised his hands towards me, as he staggered forward, and continued to groan - probably trying to talk to me but unable to, perhaps due to a broken jaw.
I backed away. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t get involved with this mess here. Not whilst my kids are in potential danger.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t help you.”
He ignored my words and continued to stagger forwards - a look of desperation in his eyes . His eyes which seemed to be getting blacker and blacker with each passing second as though something were bleeding blackness underneath.
I turned back in the direction of the traffic jam, and chaos, and shouted out as loud as I could, “There’s a survivor over here!” I screamed. I doubt anyone would have heard my shout, what with all the noise coming from all around - the sound metal breaking off metal as the plane continued to disintegrate from the impact, the sound of people screaming, the sound of sirens and other people shouting too. It didn’t matter though - going from the looks of this survivor, he was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.
“Someone will be here shortly,” I tried to reassure him, “I’m sorry but - I can’t...”
I didn’t wait to hear another groan from him. I about turned and ran towards the wall I had just climbed. Go back the way I had come and try a different route - it’s obvious now that I won’t be making much progress if I continue along the same path. Never mind the fact that I’m sure it will be almost impossible to pass the rest of the wreckage - due to not only the large amount of debris but also the intense heat coming from different bits of it. Go back and try another route. Without looking back, I pulled myself back over the wall and this time I opted for the wall at the end of the garden - perhaps go down a few streets and then try and cut across. Would the wreckage have spread out that far? I don’t know. Only one way to find out, though. Again, I’ll stick to using gardens as there was less chance of coming across another road-block. Harder to run from them compared to running from people who are just asking for help.
* * * * *
Although a longer route, it was a wise move to head away from the site of the crash. Never mind the fact that it was a horrible thing to behold, it was nice to get the smell of death and jet engine fuel from my senses. I just wish I could lose the image of that young man as easily - a sight which I’m worried will haunt me forever, along with the sound of the noises that were coming from his throat.
Come on, don’t think about him. Concentrate on the children. The chances are, he’s probably dead now. It wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference had you stayed or not. I’m not trained in First Aid. There was nothing I could do for him. And, it wasn’t cowardly to walk away. No. It wasn’t. It was the smart thing to do. At least - the best thing to do as a father. Why waste time on someone who was already dead when my children could be hiding somewhere, petrified about what was happening around them? I did the right thing. I know I did. I’m sure I did.
I shook my head, in the hope it would help me to forget what I had seen. If only it were that simple. Scratch that. If only I could start the day again. Be back at home. If I could - I’d have told my kids that they could have the day off. I’d have called in sick for Emma and myself. We’d have had a nice family day together.
I joined back onto the main road by stumbling from the last garden I had made my way across. After such a long walk, it isn’t much further now. Thank God - I need to get out of this heat. A short walk down the hill and I’d be within a stone’s throw of the city. My feet are aching, sure to be covered in blisters, but I don’t care about that now. Not now I’m so close.
I stopped dead when I realised what I was seeing further down the road. As though my brain hadn’t been able to process the sight. Across the way - coming from various city tower blocks - I could see yet more thick, black smoke billowing into the once clear blue sky.
What the fuck is happening down there?
I had stopped walking so the sound of my footsteps on the hard concrete were no longer stopping me from hearing the horrors coming from within the city. At least I presume it was from the city. The sound of multiple gunfire and the occasional explosion.
I couldn’t help but think of my two children and what must be going through their minds. With luck, they wouldn’t have even made it past the road-block but I need to be sure. I need to get to the school to see for myself. In hindsight, it would have probably been better to run the length of the first traffic jam - the route Emma would have undoubtedly taken. After all, I might have ended up spotting them in the jam but...Well...That’s hindsight for you. It’s too late to think that now and I’ve come this far so I may as well push forward and try and get to the school, despite my own fears that were surging through my veins.
A car suddenly appeared on the horizon of the road I was walking down. The first moving car I had seen since starting the walk into town. I jumped into the centre of the road and waved it down. At first, with the speed it was going, I didn’t think it was going to stop. If anything it looked as though the driver, from this distance, was more determined to simply drive through me. Foolishly I stood my ground and the car screeched to a halt.
An army officer jumped out of the passenger seat, “Get in!” he screamed.
I could see the driver was also in an army uniform too. Two more people, in the back of the car, were dressed
in normal every day clothes - both of them looked petrified.
“Please,” I said, “can you take me back into the town? I need to get to my kids.”
“You want to go back to town? Are you fucking crazy?” the officer shouted. “Get in the car - quick! There’s a camp - in the country - where we’re taking the survivors.”
“Survivors? What the hell is going on? I was told people were rioting.”
“It’s the end of the world, the end of the fucking world!” he said. He banged on the roof the car, “Come on - we have room for one more. Get in!”
I couldn’t help but think he was being a bit melodramatic and laughed it off.
“I can’t get in - I told you - I need to get into the town. My kids could be there...”
“Trust me - if they are - they’re already dead. I’m sorry but there’s nothing you can do.”
Another explosion lit up the darkening sky. The officer turned his head back in the direction of the city, “Come on - get in - I’m not even kidding...That one sounded close.”
