Chapter 7 Part 2 A motorway disaster

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I distinctly heard a purring noise and something scratching the mouthpiece at the other end, before shaking accelerative forces snatched the 'phone from my hand. 

The car was braking violently, fishtailing, using the teeth rattling vibration of cadence braking, the voice synthesiser said loudly over and over, "Please adopt the crash position." There was a hissing bang and I was enveloped in a plastic cocoon, and then on my right I could hear and feel a thunderous raking noise as the car skated along the barrier of the central reservation. A sickening crash in front arrested the vehicle, and I was punched deep into the airbag, and red was the colour I saw in my closed eyes. It was momentarily silent and then I heard behind me rapidly increasing in volume, the rubbery shriek of braking tyres on the limit of adhesion. I hoped against hope that it was not a heavy truck as the inevitable kick from the rear crash squeezed my seat deeper into the airbag. Pain swept up from my legs as the seat jacknifed over towards the bending floor. 

Then there was silence. 

Then there were screams. 

Then there were whimpers. 

Then there was silence again. 

I don't know how long I remained still. The car was up at the front, and tilted up to the right. I heard the blaring hee haw of the approach of an emergency vehicle which thundered by at some unimagined speed. Part of the car must have been in the path of the unit for I heard a snatching tear of plastic, the car wrenched to the left, and the front dropped level. 

The air bag deflated, and I was crouched forward suspended by the seat belt, and wedged foot to backside, knees to chest, by the distorted seat and floor. My arms were free so I unlatched the belt, and with some pain managed to wriggle myself free. 

I suddenly became aware of the sun, and it was no doubt a hysterical reaction because I started laughing, shouting again and again, "Look! It's a sunny day." 

I heard a muffled scream, "Shut up you silly bastard, shut up." 

Fortunately that penetrated and unlocked my frozen higher centres, and I took charge of myself again. The thing I saw next was the 'phone. 

It was screaming, "Charles - say something!" 

"I think I'm alright." 

"Jesus you scared me witless. What happened?" 

"The short story is a motorway accident. I don't know anymore. I must get out. I promise I'll ring soon." 

I put the instrument in my pocket. Where was my briefcase? There in the front of the car. I retrieved it. I couldn't see out because the impacts had crazed all the windows white with stress patterns, except for a hole that looked straight up. The hole was the gap left by the plastic section between two pieces of glazing, which had pinged away somewhere. I tried to force the door to open, but the lock was still in place. Presumably the unit couldn't distinguish between a vandal inside and a crash outside. 

Holy shit, I thought, what about the electric shock, and then I remembered this wasn't a Comtaxi but a private hire car. But what had happened to those in taxis? Another emergency unit thundered by. I thought 'don't try to get out that side, they don't take any prisoners'. 

I heard another siren approaching more slowly to my left and behind. This stopped with an electronic 'bouip', and I heard the voices of men and women and the intermittent noise of breaking glass and plastic. A helicopter clattered down somewhere further left. 

I heard approaching footsteps, and a face appeared in the hole above. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Pretty good. I think." 

"I'll break the glass on your left, so shut your eyes, cover your face and get to the right as far as you can." 

There was the crash, crash of an axe being wielded and the plastic reinforced glass gave way, and a hole was formed. 

"Can you crawl out of that?" 

"I'll try." 

I seemed to be very lucky. All my limbs worked, and the only cuts I got were those in getting out of the car. I dragged myself and the briefcase clear, and stood up with the assistance of the two men, whether paramedics police or fire I didn't know. 

"Are you Okay now, we'd like to go for some more." 

"Yes, please, carry on." 

I felt very flabby and tottered to the side of the road beyond the hardshoulder and climbed the barrier, and then the embankment for a few feet, and then sat down heavily on the grass. I hung my head between my knees for a while, and eventually began to feel better. 

I looked around. I could see perhaps 300 meters of road. My car had been the last but one in that lane to be impacted. Ten meters behind the last, was the first stationary vehicle of a long immaculately spaced and aligned queue of traffic. It looked as though the computer had been able to deal with the whole of the problem up to that point for the inner lanes were similarly filled. 

Looking in the other direction into the sun, I could only describe what I saw as a pile of bubbles. The Comtaxis that seemed to be the largest component in that traffic stream were heaped four high any way up. Some were rocking as hysterical people tried to get out. Others were static but with red fluids ominously oozing. 

A long way ahead I could see a column of black smoke. 

The emergency crews were clambering amongst the mess, but the design of the vehicles was not helping them in their efforts. 

I walked to the nearest intact Comtaxi. The ventilator was 

open. 

"I can't open the door mate, otherwise I'd give you a lift. The bloody computer won't let us out." 

"Don't worry, but it would be a help if you would tell me where we are." 

He passed out a road map and put a finger on it, "About here. The next junction would be Loughton North, and I think that's about 2 kilometers ahead." 

"Thanks a lot." 

I walked to the fire tender that was parked on the hard shoulder. I waited to speak to the officer who was talking into the handset of a radio. He finished, and said, "What's up? I'm not giving lifts." 

"Is there anything I can do to help? I feel fairly fit." 

He said, "If you really want to help you'll walk out of here. This mess is going to take hours and you'll be one of hundreds we release, and the fewer we have to look after the better." 

"Which way is best?" 

"Carry on South the way you were travelling but walk on the farside of the barrier. The hardshoulder's blocked further down, and we're still damping down a fire." 

"Thanks." I said. 

A trickle of vehicles started to appear in the far northward lane, and the whine of the traffic grew. More helicopters thrashed through the sky as victims were extracted from the turmoil, and taken to hospital. I could hardly believe it, but it seemed that I was the only person so far, out of the hundreds in the accident, that was able to walk away comparatively unscathed. No one else joined me, nor could I see any, sitting as I had, at the side of carriageway, recovering.

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