And where the bloody hell was Leon? This is what happens when you let men go off by themselves. They don’t have a bloody clue. They might be able to fold maps but they certainly can’t bloody read them. I should have drawn him something in crayon, which said, ‘I am here.’ He was off enjoying a bit of a holiday while half a volcano was falling on me. I swear, when I saw him again, he was going to get the biggest ear-bashing of his life.
If you ever see him again , said the nasty little voice that always surfaces in the middle of a sleepless night. I pushed it away. If I let myself believe, even for one minute, that I’d never see Leon again, then I might as well give up now. He would be here. He would rip time apart to get to me. If he had to get out and push the bloody pod – he would come for me.
Right on cue, just as his watch beeped to tell me that I should be gone by now, the mountain blew. With a colossal roar, like a giant ripping the sky apart, the top opened right up, hurling huge amounts of smoke and volcanic material high into the air, darkening the sky. Vast clouds of smoke bubbled and boiled like giant black cauliflowers.
I found an archway under one of the external staircases on the south side of the amphitheatre and crouched with the shuddering wall at my back, telling myself this would shield me from the oncoming storm.
Walls cracked and toppled. All over the city, I could hear objects shattering. Now there was panic. People screamed. Even out here in the street, I could hear people wailing inside the buildings. Dogs barked hysterically, yanking on their chains, frantic to get away. Children cried.
The smoke streamed towards the stricken city like a huge black hand. The noise was ear bleeding. I felt the pressure change. The sun disappeared. Night came early to Pompeii. They’d had their last day.
Even worse was to come.
What goes up must come down. Now, not only were the inhabitants being bombarded with volcanic ash, but the stones, pulverised rock, and pumice that had been hurled into the heavens by the blast now started to fall back to earth.
I tied my blanket around my head as best I could. It was time to check for Leon again.
Leaving the comparative safety of my archway, I skirted the amphitheatre and caught my first glimpse of the angry mountain in the distance. Black smoke billowed, eerily lit from within by flames and lightning.
Things were not looking good.
At last, the inhabitants of Pompeii agreed with me because the streets were boiling with people desperate to escape. Most were heading down through the town towards the harbour, hoping to escape by boat.
They’d left it much too late. Both the River Sarno and the harbour would be completely clogged with banks of floating pumice. Nothing could get in and certainly, nothing could get out. Many of them would die down there.
The streets were blocked solid. All organisation had disappeared. The orderly one-way system was abandoned. As they always are in a crisis, people were unwilling to abandon their possessions. Men and women ran through the streets clutching as much as they could carry. Cursing drivers struggled with overloaded carts. At a major intersection, a panicking driver had failed to line up his wagon properly and the wheels were locked solidly against the stepping-stones. The pressure behind him prevented him reversing up and no one could get past him. He’d lost control of his horse and any minute now the whole lot was going to go over, spilling cherished but useless household goods across the street.
There was panic. There was confusion. There was hysteria. Families were separated. Terrified children screamed for their parents. Elderly people were knocked to the ground. People invoked their gods – with the usual amount of success.
And all the time, the ash fell, clogging everything – the streets, rooftops, people’s lungs. It lay a good six inches deep now. I could feel it crunching underfoot. Everyone was coated in it. We were all turning grey.
I was so thirsty.
And Leon still wasn’t here.
I uttered a curse at least as sulphuric as anything the mountain was dropping down on us and withdrew into a doorway while I considered what to do next.
Smoking rocks, fire, pumice, ash – it all rained down. The mountain rumbled and roared, the ground shook continually, buildings fell, walls cracked, and fires were breaking out all over the city. To be outside now was suicide and that applied to the Time Police as well. Volcanic debris was just as likely to fall on them as on me. They were just as likely to be trampled by the panicking citizens. Like me, they couldn’t take refuge in any conveniently empty buildings, because soon the weight of ash on the roofs would cause the buildings to collapse. And, unless they had special breathing apparatus, they wouldn’t be able to get around in this choking ash, either. So this part of my brilliant plan was working well.
The part where I survived the Mount Vesuvius eruption of AD79 was looking less good. I really should find somewhere safe – safe being a relative term – and wait for Leon. I decided to get back to the amphitheatre. I could hide under the arches, and then when the ash became too deep, retreat up the staircase, trusting to my innovative headgear to protect me from concussion. What could go wrong?
Well, for a start, I never got there.