It had
been an interesting and worthwhile trip to London for Dr. James Whittaker
Johnson and his two colleagues, Dr. William Charles and Dr. Allen Mc Donald. A
lecture by one of the leading surgeons in the country had assured all three they
had made the right decision when they embarked on a career in medicine.
As the
train sped north towards Leeds, the tinted windows and moonless night made the
outside look like a blank black canvass.
“I'm pleased we decided to take the train to London, I would hate to think I had
to drive all the way back to Leeds on such a dark miserable night like this,”
said James.
“Coffee anyone?” asked William, standing up quickly. Allen was just about to
answer when the train shuddered violently;
“What the...” James never finished his sentence. All three where thrown about
like dice in a pot as the train rolled down an embankment.
* * *
Hundreds of tons of steel came to rest in a tangled mess of twisted carriages,
and the quiet of night broken by moans groans and screams of passengers trapped
in the mangled wreck.
In
the crushed carriage that occupied the three doctors there was movement, a
narrow beam of light probably from a pen torch flickered around the dark
interior, finally picking out the bloodied bodies of William Charles and Allen
Mc Donald. Both were in a serious way, but alive.
* * *
James carried his colleagues clear of the wreckage. He took off his shirt and
used it to try and stem some of the bleeding. After tending to them the best he
could, he asked both men if they would be all right while he went to help
others; he gently squeezed both their hands then went back into the wrecked
carriages.
* * *
It
wasn't long before the night sky was awash with blue lights and sirens from the
emergency vehicles. Soon the fire brigade and paramedics were hard at work
rescuing the trapped, and treating the injured passengers.
Both William and Allen were rushed to the nearest hospital. Heavily sedated they
spent the night unaware of what had actually happened.
Next morning both men were awake when Doctor Patel came in to check them over.
“You are two lucky people, whoever got you out of that carriage saved your
lives. With the injuries you sustained they must have known what they were
doing.”
“It was Dr. Johnson, Dr. James Whittaker Johnson. He's a colleague of ours, we
were on our way home from a lecture in London,” said William.
“It's not a name I'm familiar with, and I can't say I've seen it on any of the
paper-work involving the crash victims. Leave it with me and I'll see if I can
locate him. He can't be seriously injured if he was well enough to get you two
out.”
Later that day Dr Patel returned.
“
Who did you say carried you from the wreckage.?
“Dr Johnson.” Replied William.
“Are you sure it was him? Could you have made a mistake.? You were both
seriously injured, the light was bad and there was a lot of commotion going on
around you, you may have thought your rescuer was Dr Johnson.
“Yes of course we're sure, He spoke to us, he even took his shirt off and used
it to stem the flow of blood, he was right up close I could clearly see his
face, I am a hundred percent certain it was James. Why, why that look on your
face.”
“Well, I don't clearly understand myself, you're so certain it was your friend
that rescued you. Yet it took the fire brigade nearly an hour to free Dr
Johnson's body from the wrecked carriage. He had been decapitated and died
instantaneously. The odd thing though - he didn't have a shirt on.”
