Two Fingers continued

The pain from his ankle was intense and rendered him unable to safely control the accelerator pedal. The honking of a horn from behind him and the movement of traffic on the inside lane signalled that the lights had changed from red to green. Gently pushing the gearlever into first, Euan gingerly propelled the Lexus away from the lights and across the inside lane to a bus lay-by. The pain was too great to continue and, using his mobile, he dialled up Gail explain the reason why he would be late. Grapelli swung away impervious.

The remainder of the journey to Portsmouth was largely uneventful for John Towers. The rain subsided to a miserable drizzle and traffic thinned away into the comfort of the weekend. Reversing into the soaking unloading bay John reflected on his journey. By now he had come down from the desperate fear that had sent him hurtling across the junction at Hindhead. By now he had decided that he must have been overcome by tiredness due to the long week and the atrocious weather. He had rationalised the horror at seeing the face at the window. He now realised that it was probably a couple of ‘travellers’ on their way to the camp outside Petersfield which the local Press had vociferated so venomously about over the past couple of weeks. The second face was that of some motorist he must have upset in his flight from the lay-by – big trucks very rarely see other motorists, especially when they are doing something unexpected. Yes, he concluded, a couple of pints at the Beacon would soon sort him out. Fuck’em.

Looking in his mirror he was disappointed to see that there was no-one at the bay seeing him back. Backing up as far as he thought necessary, he leapt from the cab and walked to the back of the truck. Perfect; the rear bumpers were six inches from the concrete apron. Just as he spun around to return to the cab to kill the still rumbling engine, his eye caught sight of something unexpected. At first he thought it was a crisp wrapper that had been whipped up by the swirling winds and had been caught in the left hand of the two long vertical bars that secured the rear doors. When he moved closer to remove the offending litter, he suddenly recoiled in horror. Caught in the bar were two fingers. Crying out in repulsion and nausea, the events of the evening flashed through his head all over again. They were the girls’ fingers – they were small and white with carefully manicured nails so new they must be. She must have reached the back of the truck just as he pulled away and, in her desperation for a lift she must have reached out at the rear of the truck and the first two fingers of her right hand had become stuck behind the bar. How long had he dragged her along before the tendons and flesh gave way? Was she pulled along on her knees, or did her initial stumble wrench the fingers from their sockets? What unimaginable pain must she be in now – was she still lying there on the tarmac in the pouring rain, blood oozing into the dark puddles.

Bob Connel and Andy Murel found John lying next to his lorry – he was lying on his back staring upwards with unblinking eyes. They ran over to him, thinking that he may have been hit by someone or that he had had a heart attack. He said nothing, he just stared. Bob sent Andy for help.

That night and the following morning the Surrey Constabulary conducted an intense search of the lay by and the surrounding woodland. There was nothing to suggest the violence that John Towers had guessed must have occurred at the scene. A check of the road surface in the lay-by gave no evidence of any blood – but then the heavy rainfall would have washed it all away, anyway. A check was made at all the hospitals in the South, but there were no reports of fingerless females being admitted for treatment. Forensics examined the two fingers which were, indeed, clean and unmarked apart from the tattered ends at the base which were joined by a small strip of unblemished skin. The light pink nail varnish was identified as being from a Revlon range called ‘Rose Among the Heather’. The fingerprints were taken but there was no trace of their owner.

John was back at work the following sunny Monday morning.