EDITORIAL.6

11th May 2001

First of all I'm going to tell you about The Sound.

It was a long, high, uneven wailing-whimpering-whiffling-pleading that seemed to contain within it the possibility of words but no discernible words.

If you'd asked me, at the moment I first heard The Sound, to tell you what those words were, I'd have said they were either, 'Oh God Oh God' or 'It hurts it hurts'.

But in either case, the hearing of The Sound seemed almost secondary (and therefore the decoding of it tertiary) - for first of all it was a sound that communicated directly to the stomach and the gut. What it made the stomach feel was churning nausea, what it made the gut feel was sub-zero fear.

The Sound was coming from something wounded - something seriously wounded, something that might or might not live. It had a quality I've read about before - in accounts of the Somme, for example - but that didn't explain its weirdness.

And that was The Sound.

*

Last night, just after me and my girlfriend got into bed, we heard a big crump and then we heard The Sound. There was no mistaking that this was something in extreme pain, but my girlfriend at first thought it was a dog. Going quickly through into my study, she stopped dead - looking out the window and down into the road below, hand over her mouth.

There was a man lying on the tarmac about ten feet on from his motorbike. Another ten feet or so back was an estate car with its rear window put out and rear right-side light smashed. Passersby had already started to gather, kneeling down at the biker's side.The biker was making The Sound. He still had his helmet on.

The accident happened right outside the next-door pub, so a few afterhours drinkers came out once they realised something was happening and started directing traffic.There were two lanes, so one was passable.

I went for the phone and called the emergency services, who took their time answering.

Somehow, though, a medic had already arrived - I think he may have been in his car on his way home. He started looking after the biker. He removed the helmet.

The 999 people asked me questions about the accident: was the victim moving? conscious? talking? how old were they?

In about three minutes ten or twelve policemen had arrived, but still no ambulance.

The 999 people took my number, in case they had to call back.

The biker's leg was clearly shattered, lying at a wrong angle. He kept making The Sound whenever anyone touched it.

The medic put a drip in and got a bystander to hold the transparent bag up at chest height.

On the other side of the road, cars slowed to see what was happening.

Now and again the biker clenched his fists and made The Sound even when no-one was touching his leg.

An ambulance arrived. They seemed content to let the first medic keep dealing with the situation.

Police started to question the driver of the estate car. (Later they breathalyzed him and let him go.)

The ambulance people put the biker onto a stretcher, then a gurney, and shoved him into the back of the ambulance. Still clenching his fists.

The medic got back into his blue Fiesta and continued home. Job done.

One policemen kicked the smashed bits of bike and car into the gutter.

The ambulance drove off - no lights, no siren.

The traffic started to go past on both lanes.