SABOTAGE

As Lawrence logs off it is starting to rain. A lot. People run for shelter, splashing through puddles and struggling into waterproofs. The ground is turning to mud, churned up by so many feet.

On the main stage nearby, headliner Jim Glasgow has just started his set, amid an appreciative roar of shouting, whistling and hooting. The crowds have grown, making their way to the main stage from elsewhere around the site. Others though, their hoods up, are hurrying back towards the car parks and the camping area.

Now’s the moment, thinks Lawrence, taking a deep breath. He dodges round behind a burger van towards the junction box he identified earlier. He has worked out exactly which plug he needs to pull but it is more difficult than he expects. The heavy plug at first resists his efforts as his hands slip in the pouring rain. Gradually though, he inches it out of the socket until with a final tug he falls back, the great plug in his hand. At the same moment there is a flash of lightning followed by a loud rumble of thunder. The crooning tones of Jim Glasgow abruptly cease, the band is silenced, and the lights go out, followed immediately by loud shouts of protest and bewilderment from the audience.

Sweating now, despite the wind and increasing rain, Lawrence bends down to retrieve a lump hammer from under the van where he hid it yesterday. Struggling back to his feet, he swings the hammer at the plug. Instead of smashing, the plug sinks into the soft, wet ground. Lawrence swears under his breath as he looks around wildly for something to put it on. He is thankful for the uproar and confusion going on around him. At any moment someone may appear and demand to know what he is up to.

He spots some metal beer barrels stacked a little way off behind a beer tent, so picking up the plug, he runs over, dragging the heavy rubber cable behind him. Placing the plug on top of one of the barrels and pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, he takes a great swing at it with the lump hammer. Shards of plastic fly up and he gazes a moment, stunned at the mangled debris that is left. Feeling slightly sick, he drops the hammer and abandoning any further attempts at sabotage, ducks back into the main thoroughfare. His phone is buzzing. He can feel the vibration against his leg but he ignores it.

‘Lawrence, that you? Get over here!’

Lawrence looks up to see Jacob gesturing to him, a grim look on his face. Lawrence had been so certain that no-one had seen him.

‘Look lad, that gantry is about to go!’

Lawrence looks over to where Jacob is pointing and sees that one of the lighting gantries has started to lean, wires flailing wildly in the wind. 

‘Run and get help – be quick!’

Lawrence turns and lumbers off in the direction of two other young volunteers who are standing helplessly watching the chaos unfolding around them. He realises it’s the same two from school that he recognised yesterday.

‘Josh! Ben! Over here!’ he yells. They look up, see him waving frantically and come hurrying over, sliding on the wet ground.

‘This is mad,’ one of them shouts, his words whipped away by the wind as the three battle their way through the melee. Several men are battling to erect a cordon around the area of the gantry as Lawrence leads the others back to Jacob.

‘Get everyone away from here!’ Jacob shouts as the three boys start urging fans towards the car parks.

All around the festival site people are now hurrying through the torrential rain, trying to get to their cars. The wind hurls pieces of debris like random missiles, adding to the chaos. Another flash of lightning momentarily illuminates the scene. Lawrence looks over towards the camping area and sees more pandemonium. Some of the tents flap frenetically, others have completely collapsed. People are desperately trying to retrieve belongings and cram children and themselves into cars. Caravans have blown over and vehicles are stuck in the mud, blocking exit routes as people try to get round them. There is panic all around.

Lawrence’s phone buzzes again. He snatches it out of his pocket. ‘HARE’ flashes the screen. Lawrence hesitates for just a moment before his thumb presses ‘BLOCK’ and the phone is silenced.

Turning to a couple near him who have stopped to video the scene, he shouts: ‘Come on guys, you need to get out of here.’

Jacob watches him go with a brief nod of satisfaction, then turns to urge others away. A woman comes rushing up to him, her hair is plastered to her head. Jacob vaguely recognises her as she clutches his arm.

‘My son, have you seen my son?’

Jacob hesitates.

‘Lawrence. He’s been following you round for months. Said you told him to be a volunteer.’ Sylvia is soaked and pale, Henry at her ankles, whimpering on his lead.

Jacob speaks firmly to her, but kindly. ‘That was his own idea. Right now, he’s helping to get people away. He’ll be home later. You need to get home and get yourself dry. Your boy’s doing a grand job. You can be very proud of him.’

Sylvia looks incredulous at first, then says, ‘Are you sure?’.

Jacob nods. ‘No doubt about it. You’ve got a good son there.’

She pulls herself up, says ‘Come, Henry,’ and hurries away towards home.

Chapter 42