Subject: Immigrant Chapter 7 This story is a sequel to the story, “Marooned” which is already on Nifty, and it is a work of fiction, and all the characters in it are fictitious. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is incidental and unintended. The story involves the relationship between an adult and a minor and may involve scenes of a sexual nature. There is no outright sex and any sexual activity is of a gentle and loving nature (if you’re looking for pornography – look elsewhere) but none-the-less it may offend some people and, if you are one of those people, or if it is not legal for you to read such things, please read no further. To those who are still here please enjoy. If you wish to provide feedback I can be contacted at [email protected] and please bear in mind that you don’t pay to read these stories, but it does cost Nifty money to provide them. Please consider donating to Nifty at fty/donate.html Immigrant By Jonah Chapter 7 I didn’t have a clue where Headstone Lane station was, but Jonah gave me some brief directions. . On Headstone Lane I began to run into tailbacks of traffic. Eventually I found the point where a police cordon was causing the tailbacks. The officers on the block had already spotted my flashing beacon and waved me through. On the railway bridge ahead were three fire engines and beyond them were yet more flashing blue lights. I didn’t want to go up onto the bridge so I turned left into Broadfields and parked. I siezed my bag, slipped on my dayglo yellow safety vest and took the three plastic packages from the boot then headed back to the bridge. I arrived there as Phil clambered from the wreck of masonry that had once been the bridge parapet. He surveyed the tangled mass of coaches below and shook his head. “Can I get down there yet?” The fire officer by the nearest fire engine shook his head. “We need Network Rail on that one. 25Kv of Ac doesn’t take prisoners. ” “What’ve we got Phil?” I asked. “School bus – looks like it had to avoid an oncoming vehicle on the bridge and its gone right through the parapet. It ended up on the roof of a train and came off sideways but the train dragged it under the bridge. There’s not much left of the bus as far as I can see, but we can’t be sure that the traction current is off, and daren’t go near anything until we are.” “OK,” I said, “Since I can’t tend the sick until we know we’ve got an isolation, I’ll nip down to the station and see who I can find. There’s Network Rail vans parked over there so there are bound to be some of their people around. ” “Good luck with that,” he said. I ran over the bridge and through the booking office. I was just about to descend the steps onto the platform when I struck gold. Coming up the steps was a man with a white bump hat and an orange safety vest with black and white checked reflective strips. The badge on his chest said “R.I.O.” “You the RIO?” I asked. “Yes sir, Ivor Belling. How can I help you?” “Doctor Rob Rankine. None of us can help anybody until we know that you’ve got an isolation”. “I’ve just spoken to the ECRO,” he replied. “we’ve escort got isolations on all four roads and I’ve just put four earthing poles on to make sure they stay that way. You’ll need to watch the other two lines though. We don’t know for certain that Transport for London have cut the juice on the underground lines. There could be live rails.” “But not on the main lines?” “Not on the main lines , but possibly on the London Transport lines or anything touching them.” “So what do we do?” “Whatever you need to do on our part of the railway,” he replied, “and I’ll let you know as soon as TfL confirm that their lines. are safe.” I walked with him back to the far side of the bridge where Phil was still talking to the fire officer. Two other doctors had joined them. One was wearing a dayglo yellow vest like mine. Ivor Belling went to his van and fetched a stack of blue bump hats which he started handing out. “Isolation on the main lines and you’re OK to go,” he said, “but be aware that the conductor rails on the tube side might still be live.” Immediately three firemen from the nearest fire engine climbed down through the gap in the bridge and onto the roof of the coach below. “The bus is wedged under here,” one of them shouted up. I climbed down beside him. “Is it safe to rip that emergency door off?” “Just about to find out”, he replied. “Stand back for a second Doctor – just in case.” I glanced down. Other firemen had appeared on the platform and were releasing doors on the train. Several doctors had joined them and they began helping those who could walk, to get out of the train. I guessed that there would be stretcher cases once those people were out of the way. There was an angry shout from below as the fireman tearing free the emergency door suceeded, but immediately dropped it. He ignored the shout, since it was too late to do anything about it, but peered into the bus, as far as he could see. “Dear Jesus God!” he muttered. I crawled up next to him. “Can we get some lighting down here?” I asked. “Not sure how much I want to see what’s in there,” he replied. A fire officer with a white helmet stood up as much as he could under the bridge girders and said, “Can you get in?” “I can try,” I said, strapping a headlight to my helmet. He looked over the side of the coach at the men on the ground. “Wilf,” he called. “Get a square key and lock the doors on this carriage. Get some blokes to try to get into it through the corridor, but I don’t want any doors opening or windows smashing. If the coach crumples this lot will shift, and we’ve got people in it. Who are you blokes?” “G23 sir,” came the reply from below. “You’ll do,” he said.” Get a couple of first floor ladders off the machines and try to wedge them between the bus and that wall over there. Use the bus chassis though, not the bodywork” The bus ceiling was level with the tops of the seats, or even lower in some places where seats had crumpled. The emergency door aperture was not in its usual place but behind the back seat. so I would have to crawl under the seat. A boy’s body was in the way, but, he was clearly dead. izmit escort bayan “Any life signs?” enquired the officer. “No chance, I’ll sign him off once we get the others out”. “Parish! Jones! get him out and lay him on the coach roof. Far out of the way as you can. Be gentle. Some of his friends might still be able to see what you’re doing.” I felt better when I heard that. Lot’s of strong men to help you tear into the wreckage is a comfort, but you need to know that the humanity is there too. There were more bodies. Some with burns, suggesting that the 25,ooo volts might have done some harm before being cut off. But there were a few poor kids who were alive, and I had to make myself not wish that they weren’t. Those were the ones who were going to need somebody to do an awful lot of hard work to rebuild their lives – if they survived, and it was my job to try to make sure that they did. It was past midnight when I finally signed off the last child from the bus. The driver, or his remains, had already been removed through the windscreen. Firemen and ambulance crews with ropes and stretchers had been carefully lowering the injured to the ground and it was time to start on the dead. For three more hours we worked on, and I was tired of signing certificates. Finally the last body had been cleared and it was back to the bridge for a welcome cup of tea from the fire brigade’s mobile canteen. The rescue work was done and it was for the Rail Accident Investigation Branch to sort through the wreckage for evidence for the inquiries, then hand the site back to Network Rail and their contractors to get the lines cleared. I didn’t want to go to bed and disturb anybody when I got back to Rayner’s Lane. I didn’t feel much like sleeping at all. I lay fully dressed on the sofa. I woke to find myself wrapped around Ben. I hadn’t heard him come downstairs but here he was. It was daylight, and had been for a while. “Simon will come and make breakfast in a minute”, said my thoughts. “You should go and get a shower.” “I don’t feel like a shower”, I said out loud, and then I saw his face. He had clearly been crying and I suddenly realised why. “I think Monica and Mr. Webber are going to have their work cut out with Ben today,” said a quiet voice. “Yes, I didn’t want that to happen Luke,” I replied. “Did he tell you?” “I made him,” he replied. “I could see he was upset and it wasn’t just because you weren’t here. I guess it must have been very bad.” “Yes Luke, it was. I think I’m going to take that shower after all, and then get ready for work.” He nodded, and then sat beside Ben and hugged him. I felt cleaner after a shower and some of the aches and pains had gone. I dressed and went down to breakfast. Simon immediately placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. “You’d better have that one,” he said. “I expect you need it.” “Can’t a bloke have any secrets around here?” I asked. “Not funny,” He replied. “You should have seen Ben after you got there. It was as if he was there. We saw it on the television news, but Ben got it first hand. I think izmit sınırsız escort Luke got a bit of it too. Jonah was doing his best to stop it, but there was no way. I don’t know how any of us are going to concentrate at school today.” “Life isn’t going to be the same for a lot of people,” I told him. “It’s what always happens after something like this.” Peter put down his knife and fork, walked over to me and hugged me, then left the room without a word. I glanced at Jonah, who was still eating. “Sorry about all the drama,” I said. Jonah swallowed what he was eating and then said, “Not your fault, but everybody here is proud of you – including Ben.” “Well Simon needn’t catch the bus today,” I said. “I can give him a lift as far as the surgery.” That’s exactly what happened. Simon was a silent passenger this morning. He probably sensed that I didn’t want to talk about it. I walked into the surgery to find Phil sat on the counter talking to Glenys. He looked like death warmed up, but not warmed up very much. Glenys handed me my diary sheet. “Sorry Doctor, didn’t have time to put it on your desk,” she said. I glanced at the sheet. First appointment 1200. “You’ve given me the wrong one anyway,” I said, taking the sheet from Phil’s hands. “No she….”, Phil began, but I wasn’t allowing that. “Get yourself back upstairs and grab another couple of hours,” I told him. “Then get another cup of tea inside you before you even think of coming down.” He opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind and left with a muttered, “Thanks Rob.” Glenys smiled. “Don’t think that means you can start seeing patients without another cup of tea inside you,” she said, heading for the kitchen. I looked down at Phil’s diary sheet. Then at the waiting room full of patients. “Mr Clarke?” I said. I had seen three patients when Glenys came into my consulting room. She looked at my diary sheet and, checking a sheet of paper in her hand, reached over and crossed four names off of the list. I looked up inquisitively. “Alice is seeing them,” she explained. “she’ll tell you if she needs a doctor for anything.” That set the seal on the rest of the day. After dinner Phil was back at his desk and the afternoon went quickly. At three thirty Simon was in the waiting room. “This young man says he doesn’t have an appointment,” said Glenys. “He’ll have to wait then,” I told her. “How long have I got”. “Half an hour,” she replied. “Right ho Simon,” I told him. “I’ll just run you home and then I’ve got two more patients before I can come home, and if Sammy Porter wants to talk about fire engines, I’m eating out tonight.” “Is that Susan Porter’s boy?” Glenys asked. “Yes, it is. Why?” “Oh nothing, ” she said. “I’ve known Susan a long time. She’s adopting that boy who’s parents went to prison for abusing his brothers”. TO BE CONTINUED. If you’ve enjoyed this story you’d probably enjoy other stories by the same author, also on Adult/Youth. “Marooned”, “Letter from America”, ” Stranger on a train” and “The Boston Tea Party” are all by this author, as is, “The Pen-Pals” (on Young Friends). You would also probably like “A Neglected Boy” by Jacob Lion. Pictures of some of the characters in this story can be found on Jacob’s bly/jonah-stories.html My thanks go to Jacob for his generosity and hard work in making this available.

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