Raging Fires, by Peter Morford

 

  It was 6 o’clock of a Sunday morning on a perfect July day. We had a cloudless sky, already 72 degrees, the air con keeping us comfortable. The kids in the back were engrossed on smart-phones while Julia kept her eye on the satnav. In two hours we’d stop for a proper English breakfast and by noon we’d all be on a perfect beach.

  We first caught the pleasant scent of a bonfire. Then we saw a stand of trees on our left was ablaze, sending smoke high, the westerly breeze pushing it towards us. I had to drive slowly. It was like an old fashioned London pea-souper but within half a mile we were in the clear again. No problem.

   We overtook a couple of trucks labouring up- hill and we enjoyed the view from the top. There were more fires on the horizon before we descended again. There was no traffic on the southbound carriageway.

I was beginning to think we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The outside temperature had risen to 80. Soon we were close enough to see the helicopters optimistically dropping water. There was the tree-lined road ahead of us and a line of stationary vehicles. I joined the queue and waited while about a dozen cars stopped behind us. I walked ahead and see what was happening. At the front of the line police cars had blocked the road. The cops were very calm.

“There are fires blocking both carriage-ways about a mile north of here. Three miles south it’s the same. We’ll look after you. Enjoy your camping.”

Back at the car I said were lucky to get through when we did. Julia said,” Is it lucky to be boxed in north and south?”

I turned on the radio on to hear an anxious reporter. “Dozens of cars and lorries are stuck between raging fires which could run out of control. Rescue helicopters are rushing to the site. Drivers are asked to stay by their cars.”

Julia was on her lap-top was “driving” street-view of our stretch of motorway.  “That’s roughly where we are. See the stream and the bridge. No exits for miles. And then where would we go? Just look at the trees – If the fires connect-what then?”

  Tom let out a yell when one of his computer characters came to grief.

A police helicopter landed on the south-bound carriageway. A policeman with a loud hailer leapt over the barrier and asked us gather round.

“We can take five people on my machine. The one just landing can take twenty. That means several trips. We’ll take the disabled and children first. Don’t worry. we’ve got a safe place only ten minutes away. I’m sorry, we can’t take your cars but with a little bit of luck you can fetch them later.”

A larger machine landed quickly. The evacuation had begun.