An Unintended Stop

"Smoke! Mum, there's smoke!"

"Okay, I see it."

Janet tried to remain calm as she traversed a busy multiple lane motorway to safety, and could feel her jaw tightening as cars beeped and her engine grinded, fighting her all the way in its bid to break down.

"I'm pulling over. Don't panic, Damon. We'll get there."

Damon was staring at the smoke and hoping his mum was right. They'd never had a breakdown before. Damon's little sister, Lizzy, was fast asleep, oblivious.

They made the hard shoulder, their now static state pronounced in contrast to the frenetic speed and busyness of everything passing.

"We have to get out," Janet advised. "I'll need you to hold Lizzy while I call the breakdown people."

"Why? Why do we have to get out?" Damon looked with disbelief at his mother.

"Because it's not safe to stay in the car when there's so much traffic about," Janet explained. She didn't want to heighten his fear with stories of careering juggernauts and blowouts or someone about to fall asleep at the wheel and she was grateful when he accepted it without query and took his grouchy sister in his arms.

"Hurry up, Mum. I need a wee."

Janet rolled her eyes at her son and made the call, finger in ear to block out the constant roar of rushing traffic.

"One hour," she announced and before Damon could start moaning, she added, taking Lizzy, "Didn't you need a wee?"

"Yeah, I'm busting. Where shall I go?" He looked around. "I don't want anyone to see."

Janet laughed and said "I don't think anyone will be looking. Hop over there, into the trees."

Damon headed off, trees muffling road noise as he relieved himself.

He breathed in, finishing up.

Something smelt bad here. Other people's piss, he thought. A black bag lay feet away. He gave it a kick. Squelchy. He kicked it again and it split, the wriggling maggots making him wretch.

Janet heard Damon's shout and ran, with Lizzy in her arms, to her son.

When she saw the maggots and recognised the smell of rotting flesh, she said, "Damon. Hold your sister. I think I'd better call the police."

***

366 words

I don't know what this says about me but I often wonder about the stuff that people discard at the side of the road. My imagination wanders when I see what is probably an unassuming black bag, full of household rubbish, and instead of imagining tins and old envelopes, I visualise other darker stuff.

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