THE GIRL SHE SAW
BLAIKE
Monday, 19 January 2014
Evening
I SEE A CLOUD of black acrid smoke a little ahead - like a smudge in the sky, destroying its blue gloriousness. I wonder what the story is. Perhaps a meddlesome child, with wild curiosity, or a fault in the oiled steel jungle of a machine. Hundreds of motorists, now forced to examine the rubble upon passing.
I have never been a patient driver. Today, the sight of steel and tyre snaking up the hill on Gordon highway, had me more querulous than ever. I wound up my window, as the stink of exhaust fumes and oaky smoke began to circulate inside my Toyota Prius. It was a scorching 30 degrees today, and the blistering suns reflection on the metallic paints, made me wished that I hadn't forgotten my shades on the kitchen counter. It has been stop-and go for the last half an hour, maybe more-I didn't take notice of the time when I left work. I was in a hurry to get home.
As I lightly jerked my head to and fro against the head rest, I shut my eyes for a few seconds and inhaled deeply.
I hear the sound of a hooters being pressed in irritation, the vrooming of engines, and the thrumming of a helicopter above. My eyes spring open to the sound of constant hooting behind me. I peek into the review mirror and see a man, his hands thumping on the steering wheel. The traffic has crawled a bit, I quickly press down on the accelerator and drive forward. I wave apologetically, I switch on the air-conditioning and grab a tissue from my bag to wipe away the beads of sweat on my forehead.
I try and scout the road ahead, seeing nothing but gridlock. I highly doubt that I would make it home before dark, the orange sky, now looming over the stationery cars. I lean back against the leather seat, my hands massaging my temples as I focus ahead. In a quick flash, an emergency vehicle had veered right pass me, with a loud siren and disco-like yellow light. It must have been a huge fire, by the sight of all the flashing lights ahead. Red-yellow, red-yellow- the reflection of a life and death situation. I imagine all those scared and injured people, desperately awaiting help from another human being. I wonder how many what-ifs are lingering in their minds and if this event will torment them forever, or maybe recovery will be effortless. It's always somehow easier for others than the rest.
My mouth was now uncomfortably dry. I searched the cubby for a bottle of water but found nothing.
I recall seeing a bottle of water in my boot last Tuesday, when I had dumped a pile of old newspaper in there. I would probably spark outrage amongst the already frustrated motorists, if the traffic moves forward, while I'm fiddling in the boot. I decided to wait it out, at least until the next traffic leap. Five minutes had passed and frustration was setting in again. I swiped my tongue across my lips and around the inside of my mouth, it provided some temporary relief. The car in front jolted, I anxiously accelerate, adjust the handbrake, undo my seatbelt and dash for the boot. A feeling of relief had consumed me after seeing the blue and white aqua labelled bottle. I unscrewed the cap and gulped down half the bottle, until my thirst was quenched. Back in the confined space of rubber and steel now. All I see in front is the glows of the red tail lights snaking up the hill.
