Revelation, by Toli Kram

It’s a sight few relish, but the carnage was on a scale that dwarfed similar incidents.  This straight line of vehicles had stood little chance. Conditions by all accounts were good; perfect in many ways; but dozens of cars and lorries told another story. They lay shunted front and rear. A car transporter with its cargo precariously hanging from the upper deck teetered dangerously: delivery a thing to forget. There wasn’t anything anyone could do.  A Mercedes horse-box lay up ahead, the doors flung open and hanging limply, its occupant lifeless and on its side.  Emergency vehicles surrounded the mayhem, while overhead the shuff-shuff-shuff of a helicopter sounded, and in the half-light a shaft of bright light pierced, illuminating a round patch that slowly licked the carnage inch by inch.

Further down the line of vehicles lay two camouflage-dressed soldiers, one lying face down with unmoving eyes peering into nothing, another pinned between a Routemaster bus and a London black cab.  An Eddie Stobart jack-knifed lorry had pushed several cars on top of one another. In the distance the silence was suddenly broken: a baby crying, faintly at first, but getting louder.  As far as one could see the mayhem of wreckage was strewn, with cars overturned, some on their sides, some even facing in the opposite direction, not one without damage.  The crying became louder, the child becoming more and more upset and agitated as the seconds slowly and painfully ticked by.  Suddenly the jack-knifed eighteen wheeler began to move and in a burst of light it was suddenly hoisted high into the air. On its underside clearly visible was the name 'Corgi Toys'.

 A woman’s voice said “Julian, you’ve woken your little sister!”