by Moody, David
The cause of the intermittent stop-starts soon became clear. A car had broken down up ahead. Unable to fully get out of the way before it had ground to a halt, its rear-end had been left jutting out, reducing the two lanes to one. Steven felt himself tense as he prepared to fight his way into the outside lane to pass it. He tried taking off his sunglasses briefly to get a better view of what was happening, replacing them almost immediately when the brightness and sun-glare hurt his eyes. It was as if every metal surface and piece of glass had become parabolic mirrors, reflecting the light back at him with increased intensity. Roy’s noise wasn’t helping. ‘It’s the opposite of your usual summer, ain’t it? All going north to escape the sun instead of heading south. If we get through this, mate, everything’ll change. No one’ll want a tan anymore. Fashions will change. It’ll all be about being pale and staying out of the sun.’
‘Roy, do me a favour and shut up.’
Steven kept his foot on the accelerator, maintaining speed, trying to nudge his way into the middle of the three car convoy alongside. But none of the drivers were giving way. They bunched up closer, refusing to let him in.
‘Just move over,’ Roy said.
Fucking passenger seat drivers. ‘I can’t just move over, I’ll hit them.’
‘No you won’t. They’ll move.’
‘Don’t want to risk it.’
‘Wouldn’t matter if you did hit them. Just be bodywork damage with a side impact.’
Steven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You got any idea how much I owe on this bloody car?’
‘What, and you think that still matters?’
‘It matters to me.’
Roy shook his head and sat up in his seat and looked around. ‘I reckon you’ll do it. Just keep going. You’ll get through that gap. It’s tight, but you should be okay.’
‘For fuck’s sake, shut up!’
Steven was running out of time, even though this bizarre accident-waiting-to-happen was approaching at little more than walking pace. At the last minute he accelerated slightly, getting his nose in front of the Galaxy to his right, then drifted just into the other lane, forcing the other car onto the gravel of the central reservation. The driver yelled something at him but Steven was concentrating too hard to care. He held his breath and squeezed through the gap between the Galaxy and the crash, millimetres to spare on either side. ‘Told you you’d do it,’ Roy said. ‘Easy.’
Steven steered back over into the inside lane, gestured an apology at the fuming Galaxy driver, then had to brake hard as a grey-haired Asian man appeared in the road directly ahead, flagging him down. He moved out of the way as quickly as he’d arrived. Roy flicked the central locking which activated with a clunk. ‘What’s the problem?’ Steven asked.
‘Just keep driving.’
‘What else am I going to do?’
Steven glanced at the man at the roadside who was pleading for him to stop. He saw that several cars had stopped together just in front of the one which had been blocking the road. It looked like another family who’d taken everything and everyone on the road to try and escape the inescapable. A large, extended family, at that. There were people sitting in and around the cars, some with their heads in their hands, others holding onto each other. They’d obviously been there for some time. Someone had strung a couple of lines between one of the cars and a road sign and had draped sheets over them to create a makeshift shelter. Was this where these people would stay now? They were miles from any exits and other than carrying what they could and walking through the ceaseless heat, he didn’t see how they could leave this place. The man in the road jogged after them and banged on the passenger window. Both Roy and Steven looked dead ahead, neither making eye contact. He soon gave up and turned his attention to the car behind.
‘We can’t afford to help anyone, you know,’ Roy said once they were clear, his voice deadly serious.
‘I know.’
‘We don’t know what he wanted,’ Roy continued, ignoring him. ‘Food, water, a lift, medical help, mechanical help... he could have tried to take the bloody car. We just don’t know.’
‘I get all that. Doesn’t make me feel any better, though.’
‘We can’t take risks now.’
‘What’s with all this we stuff, anyway? Don’t forget, Roy, you’d be in the same position as him if I hadn’t given you a lift.’
‘I know that and I appreciate it, but we are where we are. I think we need to stick together and not take chances. Just keep going for as long as we can.’
✽✽✽
Late afternoon merged into early evening. Time was playing tricks. Although it felt like each individual minute was taking an eternity to pass in Roy’s company, the hours continued to disappear with alarming alacrity. It was the concentration, Steven decided, having to maintain this relentless fixation on the road ahead, moving at a snail’s pace but being unable to look away from the tarmac strip for fear he’d drive into the back of another car or not see another obstruction in time, or drive through a pothole. Roy had hit the nail on the head a short time earlier. ‘You’ve got to conserve the car,’ he’d said. ‘If anything happens to it, we’re fucked. A puncture, flat battery... anything. Even if you’re in the RAC or AA, forget it. No one’s gonna come and help, no more Green Flag. We’re on our own now, mate.’
Though a psychological blow to Steven – it confirmed he’d spent almost the entire day on the road and yet had covered barely half the distance planned – the setting sun came as something of a physical relief, the increasing gloom finally providing some respite from the endless daylight glare. It felt slightly cooler, even though it wasn’t.
They’d finally reached the end of the A14 and had joined the M6, and the junction of the two routes proved to be less of an ordeal than Steven had imagined it would be. There were endless columns of traffic trying to drive in the opposite direction, fewer going their way now. ‘They’re all trying to get out of the city, aren’t they?’ Roy said, offering an unrequested explanation.
‘Suppose.’
‘That’s it, I’m sure of it. They’re trying to get away from Coventry and Birmingham. It’s only dozy fuckers like us still trying to get closer.’
Steven didn’t prolong the conversation. He’d had enough. He consoled himself with the thought that Stoke was far closer than Criccieth, and that he’d be getting rid of his unwanted passenger sooner rather than later.
They filtered onto the M6 with relative ease, joining the traffic which appeared here to be no busier than a typical rush hour. The six lanes of the motorway stretched away into the distance and there, far on the horizon, he knew he’d soon see Birmingham. The second city. A sprawling industrial relic of a place he had only a passing familiarity with. It felt good for a short while, making steady progress while the traffic trying to get the other way could do little more than sit and watch, but that relief was short-lived. He realised that whatever gains were made during this part of the drive would doubtless be negated when they passed through the city and tried to get out the other side.
‘You still aiming to hit the M54?’ Roy asked.
‘That’s the plan. There’s a toll road no fucker uses ’cause they have to pay. I reckon if we can get on that we’re laughing.’
‘I’ll pay the toll,’ Roy said, bizarrely. ‘Least I can do.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Don’t suppose anyone’s stopping to pay tonight.’
Roy reached into the back for a bottle of water. He found one with his outstretched fingers, opened it with his teeth, took a large slug, belched, then passed the bottle to Steven. Steven’s throat was so dry he’d probably have still drunk from the bottle if he’d watched Roy piss in it first. ‘I’ve been saving that for seven,’ Roy said, wiping his mouth then drinking again. ‘Can’t believe it’s seven o’clock. We’ve been on the road almost twelve hours.’
‘Tell me about it.’
But, thankfully, Roy didn’t. Steven clicked the control on his st
eering wheel to cycle the information display on the dash, checking the tyre pressures (okay), fuel (just about enough still left in the tank, he thought), and finally the temperature. The car’s measure was always high by a couple of degrees, but to be edging forty at this time of day in this October darkness beggared belief.
Roy looked back again, shifting his bulk uncharacteristically quickly in his seat and knocking into Steven’s arm so hard he veered to the right.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Steven protested.
‘Shit.’
‘What is it?’ Steven tried to look around too. Keeping one eye on the road ahead, he glanced back and saw that the horizon behind them had begun to glow with yellow-white light. In the fraction of a second he was watching he saw the brightness start to spread, burning through the dark. He turned back and grabbed the wheel with both hands, trying to focus, not knowing what else he could do.
The pressure wave hit them hard.
The car rocked violently and Steven panicked, figuring he’d driven into the car in front. He hadn’t, and as savagely as they were shunted forward, they were then blown back again. It was the strangest sensation: a momentary increase in air pressure pushing down on them which ended almost as quickly as it had begun, making him feel bizarrely weightless in his seat like he’d driven over the top of a rollercoaster track.
He braced himself. He knew what was coming next. He could see it in the rear view mirror, a reflection of the coming white-hot storm.
Steven braked hard and swerved over towards the hard shoulder, somehow avoiding countless other cars which did the same, criss-crossing and colliding with each other. He stopped the car and threw himself forward, covering his head as the world was filled with unbearable, searing light. His and Roy’s faces were just inches apart, but neither man said anything to the other, throats parched dry with fear. Steven’s eyes were screwed shut but he could still see the light. He could feel it on his back now, prickling his neck and his arms. And over the noise of the engine they could both hear a crescendo of terrified sounds coming from outside: a roaring dry wind which barely muffled the many screams and cries for help. Hundreds of people’s combined panic quickly becoming a single horrific chorus of helpless desperation.
There’s nothing I can do, Steven thought to himself, praying that the light would begin to fade. There’s absolutely nothing anyone can do. And he thought about all those fucking stupid Hollywood films where bad actors, bad science and bad writing combined to save the day, and he already knew that wasn’t going to happen here. No Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis to be dragged out of retirement to pilot a reconditioned space shuttle and save the world, no hastily designed bomb to be fired into the heart of the sun to start a chain reaction and restore order to the dying star... nothing. Fuck all. No way out.
He thought the wind and heat would never end, but the light eventually began to fade. Next to him Roy was crying, shaking with fear.
When Steven lifted his head again, just a few seconds later, the world had changed dramatically. They were surrounded by noise and frantic activity now, the relative order of the traffic replaced with a panicked, unruly mess, vehicles strewn everywhere. Many drivers remained shell-shocked, as slow to react as he himself was, but others had already composed themselves enough to be able to drive on, weaving in and out of other still stationary vehicles, squeezing forward a few more precious spaces until their way ahead became blocked. He thought he should maybe do the same, but he knew it wouldn’t help. So he might manage to drive a few metres at speed, so what? It wouldn’t last long. No point racing. I won’t get there any quicker, if I get there at all.
As if to prove the point, over to his right the driver of a large Mitsubishi truck tried to bulldoze his way through a gap which wasn’t there. He collided with the back of another car which managed to keep going, the speeding truck coming off a surprising second best despite its size. The driver fought to keep control, then lost it completely and steered straight into the central reservation, buffalo bars trapped on the barrier, metal entangled with metal. The traffic drove around the back of the wreck like water running around a boulder in a stream. The driver accelerated, rocking his vehicle backwards and forward as best he could, but he wasn’t going anywhere. No one was helping him, either. Steven had no intention of getting involved. A mountain of a man, he got out and tried to free his truck by hand, an obviously impossible task. He was crying like a baby, and Steven could see there were several kids in the front of the truck with him.
‘Do you think we should...?’ he started to say.
‘No. We can’t. We need to just...’
Steven turned toward Roy and saw that he was staring up at the sky. His mouth was hanging open and tears streamed from his eyes. ‘What is it?’
Roy just pointed. ‘Look at that. Jesus Christ...’
There was an aeroplane falling out of the sky. It was impossible to accurately judge its size because its tail and one of its wings were on fire. It burned like a meteor across the rapidly darkening sky, arcing overhead and fragmenting, leaving a dirty, billowing vapour trail behind. Brilliant, glowing white traces blossomed as the plane disintegrated on its way back down to earth, huge fragments splitting away from the main fuselage like a firework. Steven couldn’t stop watching. It reminded him of being a child again, watching the space shuttle explode on TV, but the spectacle was secondary. What about the people...? His head filled with nightmare thoughts, how those passengers must have panicked thousands of metres up when the energy pulse struck the plane. It had been frightening enough down here on solid ground when he could at least fool himself into thinking he had control, but up there... Christ, it didn’t bear thinking about. He watched the largest intact piece of the burning fuselage, just the stump of one wing remaining now, begin to spin and spiral towards the ground.
‘We need to get out of here,’ Roy said. ‘Seriously, Steve, just keep moving...’
Steven looked around and edged forward, trying to find a way through the madness. The previously well-ordered motorway traffic had degenerated into chaos. ‘Don’t think we’re going anywhere fast tonight.’
‘Then just get us off the road for a while. Seriously, I can’t take much more of this. I don’t want to be out here when the next one of those bloody energy pulses hits.’
14
Birmingham. The city was still some thirty miles away, but he could clearly see it on the horizon now. And Steven’s heart sank. The temporary elation he’d felt at having made it this far, already eroded by the events of the last half hour and the knowledge he still had at least the same distance to travel again to reach Criccieth, was wiped out altogether by what he saw in the distance.
A wide swell of orange and white lights nestled deep in the dark of everything else, Birmingham’s skyline might not have had the immediate familiarity of other major cities, but it was still familiar-looking: the concentrated clump of tall office tower blocks in the business heart of the place, the red lights on top of the telecoms tower – the pint-sized sibling of the London landmark, the sprawling suburbs stretching out in all directions. It looked the same as it always had, and yet it appeared immeasurably different too. There were fires raging in parts of town. Clouds of noxious fumes rising up like smoke stacks, black against the darkening sky, their rolling oily underbellies glowing with light from the flames below. He thought that if he was to get out of the car and listen, the dying screams of the city would be audible even from this distance.
‘We’re never going to get out again if we try and drive straight through,’ he said.
‘It’s the only way,’ Roy said. ‘The motorway should still be okay, shouldn’t it?’
Steven didn’t bother answering. He couldn’t think straight anymore. He’d been concentrating too hard and too long. He spotted a sign at the side of the road: Services – one mile. He remembered the place. He and Sam had used this service station numerous times on their way to Criccieth, just about the halfway point of the journey.
‘You wanted to get off the road,’ he told Roy, ‘so we’ll stop here for a while. Just a pit stop, that’s all. A piss and a leg stretch, maybe find some food if there’s anything left.’
✽✽✽
The final mile took forever, but it was worth the effort. The vast service station car park, though busy, wasn’t quite as bad as Steven had expected. There were still spaces. As many cars looked abandoned here as parked.
He stopped the car in the middle of a block of three empty spaces, plenty of room on either side. He opened the door and just sat there for a moment, listening to the noise, nothing but traffic. The motorway they’d just left looked even more intimidating from here, a solid line of stop lights visible through the brittle-branched hedgerow in one direction, an apparently endless column of headlamps the other.
‘We going in?’ Roy asked, standing at the side of the car and stretching his back. Steven didn’t immediately answer. He felt unexpectedly nervous, not sure what they were going to find inside. He checked his precious car, stalling for time, making sure his and Sam’s valuables were well hidden and out of sight. ‘Don’t know why you’re bothering with all that, mate,’ Roy said. ‘Who’s going to want your stuff now?’
Still stalling, Steven checked his phone. He had plenty of charge but the signal strength was weak and he couldn’t get through when he tried to call Sam. Sometimes there was a pause like it was about to start ringing out, other times nothing but silence tinged with a slight electric hum. Were the networks overloaded or dead? Had that last devastating wave of energy knocked them out? He tried his parents, but couldn’t get an answer from them either. He looked up and saw Roy sitting on the bonnet of the car, doing the same thing. ‘Bloody hell, watch the car,’ Steven sighed. Roy just looked at him, then slid off. ‘You getting anything?’
