The Shaking

Chapter Thirteen

Sandbeach Caravan Park.

At first Sam Bicknall though there was something wrong with the tractor he was driving: The engine vibrations changed, becoming rougher, and the steering went rubbery. Oh shit! This was the last thing he or his father who jointly ran the family-owned caravan park with him needed right now, what with things being so tight. They relied heavily upon this scaled-down multifunctional machine. It was almost always in use; either to trim the hedge boundaries, mow the site's lawns, tow the caravans around, or haul the members' boats up the concrete beach launching ramp onto dry land. (Fees apply. Please consult your members' handbook or ask at reception for current charges. 'Season tickets' for regular service users are available.)

Now it appeared that after twenty years of faithful service the tractor was developing serious and probably terminal problems. It felt as if something had broken loose inside the motor, and possibly taken out the power steering pump as well. Sam's father Laurie would most likely blame him for not performing the DIY servicing diligently enough. Whatever the reason for the breakdown the cost of the new parts or a replacement machine would put another unwanted dent into the park's accounts: Laurie was bound to be greatly displeased.

As Sam was about to switch the ignition off before the engine completely chewed itself into scrap metal it dawned on him the juddering he felt had nothing to with the tractor. Instead the whole park - the very earth! - was wobbling like a jelly!

Disbelievingly he looked on as what had been solid ground began to turn watery, and some the caravans close to the beach end of the site began to settle into the mire. What was going on? At least this was happening on a weekday so the weekend residents had yet to travel down... with any luck we'll be able to clear up any mess or damage before they arrive. It's a good thing those vans are empty at the moment or there'd be a barrage of complaints...

But hang on! The trailer at the far end of the park sinking the quickest would be occupied! With a start Sam remembered talking to George Fenning earlier; the randy old sod checking the coast would be clear for him to give his old lady a good banging. She loves to scream and howl does his missus; and everyone knows it, so they try to be as discreet as possible. Well good luck to them I say! I hope I'll still be humping away like that when I'm that old...

Shocked out of his temporary confusion Sam realised the Fennings' caravan was in the middle of the biggest liquid sinkhole, it was tilting up at the end as well as going down fast! They might be trapped in there and need rescuing!

Sam gunned the tractor's engine and ignoring the site's 10mph limit, sped along the narrow tarmac access road toward the group of subsiding 'vans. As he approached he saw the end window of the Fennings' home burst open and a pair of aged bare male legs push it forcibly aside, the effort nearly carrying naked George through, leaving him sprawling over the outside of the by now almost horizontal end of the trailer.

When the tractor's steering began to feel unresponsive Sam realised he risked driving headlong into the spreading void. He spun the wheel into a hard right turn and jammed on the brakes. This was as far as he dared risk taking the machine without it being swallowed as well. Now Bicknall had to work out a way of bridging the remaining distance and saving the Fennings with what he had to hand. Sam's thoughts turned to the heavy duty nylon tow rope stored along with his other tools in the low aluminium tub of a trailer the tractor habitually towed around; that should do it! Clipping one of the spring-loaded heavy-duty carabiner clips joined to the ends of the line onto the rope itself to form a lariat and fastening the other end to the tractor's hitch, Bicknall gathered the cable up into a spool. "GEORGE!" he shouted to the uneasily balanced Fenning,"TAKE THIS!" throwing the line across to him.