Chapter 8 - Off The Rails
Steve stood stock still for a moment, how long he couldn't have said, at that point in time, a minute felt like a lifetime. The number of things like this I've seen but nothing ever prepares you for the possibility of something like this happening to someone you know right before your very eyes. Steve felt temporarily displaced from his body, his senses numb.
All of a sudden adrenaline kicked in and Steve burst into a headlong charge towards the ever-increasing plumes of smoke, each one becoming a stronger, darker, more vehement color than the last one.
"Dad, dad? Can you hear me?" Steve shouted. Please be OK Dad. Please.
Steve was unable to see anything through the thick smoke, from which he was now approximately fifty meters. As frustration rose in him his fast stride became more aggressive, allowing him to cover ground more effectively.
"Jesse, are you all right?"
As Steve got within about twenty meters he recognised a figure who clambered out of the left hand side of the car, doubled over as his body shook with violent wracking coughs.
"Dad, thank goodness you're alive. Are you OK? You should go over to Amanda, let your lungs clear, let her check you over and call you an ambulance."
"Steve, you have to help me with Jesse, I think he hit his head." Steve had been so relieved to see that his father was OK that he had completely forgotten about Jesse being in the car too. A look of sheer panic adorned his face, partly from the realisation that Jesse was still in trouble and partly from the guilt of completely forgetting about his best friend.
"We have to get him out of there Dad, the car looks as if it will blow any minute." Steve's instincts as a cop took over. "Was he conscious? Is the door jammed? Does he have any injuries that could cause a problem in his removal?"
Mark looked on in dazed confusion, and was only able to stammer out:
"I think so, I don't know, I."
Steve's attention immediately switched back to his father.
"Dad, dad, are you OK. Dad, what's wrong?" but Mark just stared ahead. Whether he didn't here his son or whether he was too fazed to answer Steve was unsure. He knelt down at his father's side and looked up with desperation. He spotted three figures a way off who he recognised as Amanda and the boys. With them was the beginnings of a crowd. Steve observed the audience and although disgusted with their gratuitous morbidity, only there watching, not to help but to simply be able to say "I was there."
Steve did see one good side, he felt confident enough to summon Amanda over, confident in the knowledge that there would be countless observers to look after the boys. He waved for Amanda to come over. She turned to someone at her side and indicated to the two children, then started off at a full pace toward Steve over the ground that he had traversed not five minutes previous.
When Amanda arrived, Steve was still by his father's side, talking to him all the time, his deep concern evident in the very tone of his voice.
"Amanda, will you help me get my Dad back to our car please, I think he may be going into shock. You need to look at him."
"Steve, where's Jesse?" Amanda ventured.
"Oh, he's still in the car." Steve said without thinking, waving his hand dismissively.
"Steve, can you smell gas?"
"Huh. Yeah, I guess." Steve responded, still not realising the implications of what he had just said.
"Steve, Steve!" Amanda snapped.
"What is it Amanda? Shouldn't you be helping my Dad?"
"Steve, we both smell gasoline, Jesse is in the car, the engine is still running, the car's gonna blow. Steve, Jesse could die if we don't do anything."
Steve shrugged his shoulders and remained near to his father. Nothing that Amanda was saying penetrated Steve's subconscious, the only person he saw was his father, the only thing to do, get his father out of there and to somewhere safe where he could be treated.
"I said Steve, that Jesse could die!" Amanda said as she approached the emphatically fuming car. All of a sudden Steve snapped and raised his voice, loud and long and clear.
"And so could my father if we've not got him out of here when that thing blows."
"Steve Sloan, you can be so stubborn sometimes."
"No Amanda, it's just."
"Save it. We've not got the time to waste if I'm going to get Jesse out of here alive."
Steve turned indignantly and began to move his father, who was beginning to come out of the extreme state of shock in which he had been, toward the Escort and the by now large crowd of people who waited a way away.
As Steve neared the large group with his father a couple of souls stepped forward to help get Mark to safety while another got out there cell phone and called 911.
Steve stood with his back to the wreckage of the Granada, his father being his primary concern. Whilst lost in this state; conscious disconnected from subconscious, the eyes of the crowd stared into the background. Steve could only wonder at what it was they were looking.
He was to find out shortly, far more shortly than anyone could have anticipated.
* * * * *
Hot orange and yellow streaks licked the sky as hot, high flames leapt into the air. A split second later the atmosphere was ripped into two as a resounding boom reverberated around the countryside.
The bright glow and the ferocious noise was all it required to bring Steve out of his trancelike state. The situation suddenly hit him with astounding severity as reality penetrated.
Steve slowly turned as he realised that he had not only left his best friend to die in the impending inferno, but he had also allowed Amanda to stay and open herself to such risk.
Great. Thought Steve. I've not only gone and killed two of my best friends, but I've made two poor kids orphaned.
Although now facing the carnage, nothing in front of him could penetrate his deep thoughts and the bitterness within him prevailed. He saw everything, yet took in nothing.
Around him were lights, noise, people talking. People talking to me? He wondered. What are they saying? Steve tried to make out what he heard.
The background noise was all a blur to him, yet over it all he thought he could make out two voices saying:
"Uncle Steve, did you see what mom just did?"
"Isn't our mom great Uncle Steve? No one in my class at school could say that their Mom did anything like that, well except maybe Hal Campbell and he doesn't count cos his mom's a fire-fighter."
C.J. and Dion. He thought. What have I done? I've ruined their lives without trying.
"Son, son?" Mark spoke gently from his position, sitting in the Escort looking towards that fateful spot.
* * * * *
Two dark figures appeared in silhouette form against the flaming wall backdrop.
The taller figure was seen half dragging the smaller one towards the crowd who were oooh-ing and ah-ing expectantly.
Both figures were choking and progress was slow.
When they got clear of the car there was a secondary explosion, not as powerful as the first, though it's surprise impact exacerbated the effect. Both people were thrown to the floor.
* * * * *
Sirens whirred in the background, getting nearer and nearer.
* * * * *
As the raging flames behind them began to subside once more, a trace of movement could be seen.
The smaller form seemed to now be entirely dependant on the other to get them to safety, although if one observed closely a very valiant attempt was being made through an apparently unconscious stupor.
* * * * *
Two ambulances arrived with three fire trucks in tow. Help could not have come too soon.
* * * * *
Steve Sloan stood and watched the scene in front of him in a disbelieving stupor - it couldn't be true.
It's the ghosts of my friends coming back to haunt me. He thought.
* * * * *
The taller figure was now tiring. Bent over at the effort of supporting the partner, coughing spasms endured by both of them made the going even tougher.
* * * * *
The crews jumped out of the lead fire truck and raced towards the burning car, hoses at the ready, closely followed by members of the second truck, whilst the third one was driven to where the two ambulances had pulled up.
There seemed to be a sudden rush to the two haggard approaching figures as everyone who had been watching headed out to greet the returning heroes.
* * * * *
All Steve Sloan could do was turn away.
Steve stood stock still for a moment, how long he couldn't have said, at that point in time, a minute felt like a lifetime. The number of things like this I've seen but nothing ever prepares you for the possibility of something like this happening to someone you know right before your very eyes. Steve felt temporarily displaced from his body, his senses numb.
All of a sudden adrenaline kicked in and Steve burst into a headlong charge towards the ever-increasing plumes of smoke, each one becoming a stronger, darker, more vehement color than the last one.
"Dad, dad? Can you hear me?" Steve shouted. Please be OK Dad. Please.
Steve was unable to see anything through the thick smoke, from which he was now approximately fifty meters. As frustration rose in him his fast stride became more aggressive, allowing him to cover ground more effectively.
"Jesse, are you all right?"
As Steve got within about twenty meters he recognised a figure who clambered out of the left hand side of the car, doubled over as his body shook with violent wracking coughs.
"Dad, thank goodness you're alive. Are you OK? You should go over to Amanda, let your lungs clear, let her check you over and call you an ambulance."
"Steve, you have to help me with Jesse, I think he hit his head." Steve had been so relieved to see that his father was OK that he had completely forgotten about Jesse being in the car too. A look of sheer panic adorned his face, partly from the realisation that Jesse was still in trouble and partly from the guilt of completely forgetting about his best friend.
"We have to get him out of there Dad, the car looks as if it will blow any minute." Steve's instincts as a cop took over. "Was he conscious? Is the door jammed? Does he have any injuries that could cause a problem in his removal?"
Mark looked on in dazed confusion, and was only able to stammer out:
"I think so, I don't know, I."
Steve's attention immediately switched back to his father.
"Dad, dad, are you OK. Dad, what's wrong?" but Mark just stared ahead. Whether he didn't here his son or whether he was too fazed to answer Steve was unsure. He knelt down at his father's side and looked up with desperation. He spotted three figures a way off who he recognised as Amanda and the boys. With them was the beginnings of a crowd. Steve observed the audience and although disgusted with their gratuitous morbidity, only there watching, not to help but to simply be able to say "I was there."
Steve did see one good side, he felt confident enough to summon Amanda over, confident in the knowledge that there would be countless observers to look after the boys. He waved for Amanda to come over. She turned to someone at her side and indicated to the two children, then started off at a full pace toward Steve over the ground that he had traversed not five minutes previous.
When Amanda arrived, Steve was still by his father's side, talking to him all the time, his deep concern evident in the very tone of his voice.
"Amanda, will you help me get my Dad back to our car please, I think he may be going into shock. You need to look at him."
"Steve, where's Jesse?" Amanda ventured.
"Oh, he's still in the car." Steve said without thinking, waving his hand dismissively.
"Steve, can you smell gas?"
"Huh. Yeah, I guess." Steve responded, still not realising the implications of what he had just said.
"Steve, Steve!" Amanda snapped.
"What is it Amanda? Shouldn't you be helping my Dad?"
"Steve, we both smell gasoline, Jesse is in the car, the engine is still running, the car's gonna blow. Steve, Jesse could die if we don't do anything."
Steve shrugged his shoulders and remained near to his father. Nothing that Amanda was saying penetrated Steve's subconscious, the only person he saw was his father, the only thing to do, get his father out of there and to somewhere safe where he could be treated.
"I said Steve, that Jesse could die!" Amanda said as she approached the emphatically fuming car. All of a sudden Steve snapped and raised his voice, loud and long and clear.
"And so could my father if we've not got him out of here when that thing blows."
"Steve Sloan, you can be so stubborn sometimes."
"No Amanda, it's just."
"Save it. We've not got the time to waste if I'm going to get Jesse out of here alive."
Steve turned indignantly and began to move his father, who was beginning to come out of the extreme state of shock in which he had been, toward the Escort and the by now large crowd of people who waited a way away.
As Steve neared the large group with his father a couple of souls stepped forward to help get Mark to safety while another got out there cell phone and called 911.
Steve stood with his back to the wreckage of the Granada, his father being his primary concern. Whilst lost in this state; conscious disconnected from subconscious, the eyes of the crowd stared into the background. Steve could only wonder at what it was they were looking.
He was to find out shortly, far more shortly than anyone could have anticipated.
* * * * *
Hot orange and yellow streaks licked the sky as hot, high flames leapt into the air. A split second later the atmosphere was ripped into two as a resounding boom reverberated around the countryside.
The bright glow and the ferocious noise was all it required to bring Steve out of his trancelike state. The situation suddenly hit him with astounding severity as reality penetrated.
Steve slowly turned as he realised that he had not only left his best friend to die in the impending inferno, but he had also allowed Amanda to stay and open herself to such risk.
Great. Thought Steve. I've not only gone and killed two of my best friends, but I've made two poor kids orphaned.
Although now facing the carnage, nothing in front of him could penetrate his deep thoughts and the bitterness within him prevailed. He saw everything, yet took in nothing.
Around him were lights, noise, people talking. People talking to me? He wondered. What are they saying? Steve tried to make out what he heard.
The background noise was all a blur to him, yet over it all he thought he could make out two voices saying:
"Uncle Steve, did you see what mom just did?"
"Isn't our mom great Uncle Steve? No one in my class at school could say that their Mom did anything like that, well except maybe Hal Campbell and he doesn't count cos his mom's a fire-fighter."
C.J. and Dion. He thought. What have I done? I've ruined their lives without trying.
"Son, son?" Mark spoke gently from his position, sitting in the Escort looking towards that fateful spot.
* * * * *
Two dark figures appeared in silhouette form against the flaming wall backdrop.
The taller figure was seen half dragging the smaller one towards the crowd who were oooh-ing and ah-ing expectantly.
Both figures were choking and progress was slow.
When they got clear of the car there was a secondary explosion, not as powerful as the first, though it's surprise impact exacerbated the effect. Both people were thrown to the floor.
* * * * *
Sirens whirred in the background, getting nearer and nearer.
* * * * *
As the raging flames behind them began to subside once more, a trace of movement could be seen.
The smaller form seemed to now be entirely dependant on the other to get them to safety, although if one observed closely a very valiant attempt was being made through an apparently unconscious stupor.
* * * * *
Two ambulances arrived with three fire trucks in tow. Help could not have come too soon.
* * * * *
Steve Sloan stood and watched the scene in front of him in a disbelieving stupor - it couldn't be true.
It's the ghosts of my friends coming back to haunt me. He thought.
* * * * *
The taller figure was now tiring. Bent over at the effort of supporting the partner, coughing spasms endured by both of them made the going even tougher.
* * * * *
The crews jumped out of the lead fire truck and raced towards the burning car, hoses at the ready, closely followed by members of the second truck, whilst the third one was driven to where the two ambulances had pulled up.
There seemed to be a sudden rush to the two haggard approaching figures as everyone who had been watching headed out to greet the returning heroes.
* * * * *
All Steve Sloan could do was turn away.