Natepod The weblog of Nate Cull

As I'm trying to work out who she is, I look up through the window and see a jet passenger plane in the distance. It's making sharp turns left and right as if struggling to stay in the sky. I point out "It's going to crash!" to the others and they agree. It gets closer and hits the ground nearby. I pick up the receiver and tell Miss Davidson, "sorry, there's a plane crashing here, stay on the line". I put the phone down without hanging up and run outside.

A few houses away and I'm in my old school grounds. There's about half a dozen other people I know from my childhood here. My brother is there with a first aid kit, giving orders. I realise I don't have a kit on me, but I have my pack and my camera. I decide to take photos. My brother finishes his speech and the others climb the fence and go. For some reason he's not coming. I ask him for any advice and he says, "Don't do anything stupid, don't get in the way." I thank him, jump the fence and go.

Over the fence it's the edge of farmland, market gardens and ploughed fields. I see the downed plane in flames just ahead. I approach it through a smashed house or tent. The first living thing I see is not a human but a crying brown newborn lamb or kid, as if its mother was killed in the crash. I photograph it on the run and go through. The next house? tent? has a group of farming people also in mourning. I snap photos and feel disturbed that I'm not helping. And I'm running so fast that they'll probably be worthless anyway.