Chapter 13
"Arriving in Lockerbie"
When Psyduck and I arrived in Lockerbie, the jetlag that we had from the long flights were quickly quelled. Going into this small Scottish market town, all I could think of was why? Why would a fully loaded 747 crash here? Everywhere I turned, there was a piece of airplane debris from the Clipper Maid of the Seas just lying on the ground along with passenger luggage and bodies of the dead, bodies that have not even been recovered.
Getting out of the van, my crew and I set about to capture the moments of recovery from sheer terror the night before. My first direction shifted towards town hall, where a notice read that there were citizens missing.
"Can I help you, miss?" I heard a middle aged Scottish woman cry out as she stepped out of the town hall.
"Oh, please excuse me," I stammered. "I'm from a news station in Japan sent here to cover what happened last night."
"Japan, lassie?" she remarked. "Well, welcome to Scotland. I'd say 'Happy Christmas' but it's anything but this year. Do come in."
That was kind of strange to be greeted so quickly and it appeared that this woman had something to hide, something that she didn't feel comfortable doing.
"Where in Japan did you say you are from?" she asked.
"Ryme City," I answered. "I'm Lucy Stevens with CMN, the news station out there. This is my Psyduck."
"Psyduck."
"Of course," she said, as a group of police officers brought a stretcher containing a body into the town hall. "I'm Agatha McHoggett, a seamstress here in Lockerbie. It's been like this since last night, Miss Stevens. One moment you're getting ready to celebrate the birth of our savior and the next, this happens."
"What time did the plane come down?" I asked as we made our way into a large room with a large table in the center.
"It came down around 7:00 last night. The sky lit up like liquid fire."
I then got closer to the table as the sheet was pulled up to reveal a blonde haired woman wearing a white blouse and black skirt that was disheveled. Her pantyhose was torn in several places, but she still had her black high heels on. I then watched as Agatha stood in front of the body with a pair of scissors in her hands.
"I've been tasked with cutting any clothes off the dead," she explained. "The constable wants to study them for any jet fuel and if they are clear, they will be sent to the families."
She then opened up a brown paper bag with the words "property of airplane victims" written on it in black marker. This seemed somewhat awkward, but I felt that I needed to stay and at least interview an eyewitness.
"This woman was found in the fields in front of the Tundergarth church," Agatha explained as she removed the black high heel stilettos, putting them in the bag. "They say her name is Laura Alden of New York."
As Agatha removed the dead woman's pantyhose and placed them in the bag, I kept my eyes off the dead body and continued with my questioning.
"How many bodies have you worked on?" I asked, taking a gulp.
"This is the third one today," Agatha answered, taking the scissors and cutting down the woman's long sleeved white blouse. "Such a pity, I'm one of several who volunteered to do this and being a seamstress, it's double the pity. I've already worked on a flight attendant and a man in his 50's."
Carefully, I watched as Agatha raised the body up and slid the blouse off, revealing the top half of a white full slip. Then, she got to work removing the flowing black knee length skirt.
"There are also rumors that young people were aboard the plane," Agatha continued, taking the skirt and placing it in the brown bag. "25 students from that Pokemon school in the Middle East."
"I've heard that," I said as Agatha took the scissors and cut the straps of the dead woman's slip. "They haven't ruled out sabotage as of yet. But tell me something, Agatha, how has the town come together since last night?"
Agatha couldn't find the words to explain and who could blame her. It had been barely 24 hours and the reality of the situation was still sinking in.
"Well, we're doing all that we can for our fellow kinsman," Agatha said, gently removing the slip and sliding it down the body, revealing the white bra and satin panties of the deceased. "I've survived a World War from the Nazis and that taught me that humanity has an inhumanity to man. The important thing is to just be compassionate to those less fortunate than myself."
As she put the slip in with the discarded clothing, I could see that Agatha was someone who took in humanity from a far different perspective.
"This may seem like a personal question, Agatha," I asked. "But, do you have any relatives missing?"
"By the grace of God, my niece and his wife are safe," she said. "In fact, they found a body on their roof last night, a young child of 16 years."
Just then, there was a knock at the door and a constable peeked into the room.
"There's a man here claiming to be Miss Alden's father," he said to Agatha. "I told him that the body was here and he won't leave until he sees her."
"Maybe it's best I step out," I said, stepping out of the room with Psyduck following me. "Thank you for your time, Agatha."
As we left, I saw the man walking down the hallway towards the room and no sooner did he step into the room, did I hear the sounds of a loud wail that belonged to a wounded Pokemon. There was certainly going to be more of this as time went on, I will say.
…
Pulling the long black overcoat over me, I stepped into the town and saw that a truck was coming in with what appeared to be pieces of the Pan Am Clipper Maid of the Seas. I then ran over to the truck as the driver got out.
"Excuse me," I called to the driver, catching his attention as he and his Growlithe came out of the truck. "I'm reporting for CMN in Japan and I can't help but wonder what you are carrying."
"Pieces of the plane, lass," said the old man. "Including an airplane door not far from my farm. I also found three bodies that were in my farm, all from the plane."
"My name is Jones, by the way," said the old man. "Farmer Jones. If you have questions, you are more than welcome to join me and Growlithe."
"Thank you, Mr. Jones," I said as Psyduck and I climbed into the truck. After speaking with a police constable, he got back into the truck. I then saw one of my cameramen and I gestured to him to follow me in the truck. If I was going to get to the bottom of this tragedy, I needed to see more of the damage for myself.
"You know, you are actually one of the first reporters to come here, Miss…"
"Stevens, Lucy Stevens."
"Miss Stevens, of course. One of the first I should say is not from the BBC or ITN."
"Mr. Jones, do you remember where you were when the Pan Am went down?"
"I was at home on the edge of Lockerbie," he explained. "Growlithe and I were just settling down when we both heard this almighty rumbling. God, I thought we were having an earthquake. So, I then hear this thumping noise and I look to see it's a human corpse lying on my doorstep. There were two more lying in my field. Both women."
We then pulled over to the side of the road as we saw several volunteers trying to remove a large piece of fuselage. The fuselage had the first "A" in the Pan Am logo and was sticking out of the muddy ground.
"Wait here," said Mr. Jones, getting out of the truck. "I'll be back."
From the truck, we saw the elderly man run over to the volunteers and after reminding Psyduck to stay with Growlithe, I got out of the truck and watched Mr. Jones and the volunteers remove the piece of airplane fuselage. My cameraman was also quick enough to follow and capture video of the rescue operation.
After a few moments, they managed to remove the fuselage and place it in the truck containing my cameraman.
"There's going to be plenty more like that," said Jones.
"Where's all the airplane debris going to?" I asked.
"It's going to a warehouse and be collected as possible evidence," answered Jones. "In case if its sabotage, which I believe it is."
Given that Jones had a Growlithe as a partner, I couldn't say I was surprised that he believed it was sabotage.
"You believe it's sabotage?" I asked.
"I do," said Jones. "An airplane doesn't fall in streaks unless it's blown out of the sky and don't let me hear that it was structural failure. In the war, I flew planes that weren't at risk for structural failure unless they were of age. Oh dear God."
We stopped on the side of the road again as we saw the body of another passenger lying in the road, naked. Getting out of the truck, Farmer Jones approached the body and yelled for the driver behind us to bring over a blanket. I then saw something else lying next to the body: what appeared to be a piece of a container. Kind of like those baggage containers that go into the belly of a plane. What's more was that the piece contained a portion of the Pan Am logo.
Could this be the container that might have contained an explosive Pokemon? Time would tell…but I had to continue to focus on the recovery efforts in Lockerbie, Scotland while also trying to wonder just what exactly Tim and his dad were up to in their part of the investigation.
…
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