Bear Surviving

Bear Surviving 

by Nic Hopkins

He is a martyr of motorway traffic. He was loved once. Wasn’t he?

If he ever had a name, it eludes him; memories are clumped tumbleweed in his otherwise

linty cotton wool mind. Thick black cable ties pin him, arms outstretched,

to the lorry’s radiator grill. He trembles to the rhythm of the engine, never able to relax.

Deep potholes jerk his floppy legs in erratic directions and the weight of his body twists

his weakening shoulder seams. Is this the bump to pop his stitching?

His eyes are grit cataracts but he remembers having bright orange fur.

He suspects he’s now the grimy khaki of hood ornament old timers he used to pity.

His sight faded with his memories which scared him at first but it doesn’t bother him anymore.

They always take the same routes, deserted roads in the middle of the night.

Lit by lone headlights, all roads look the same, endless tarmac floored tunnels walled with silhouetted trees.The driver pulls into a layby and turns off the engine.

Paynes grey switches to black and he knows they are parked off an A-road from Dover.

He hears the driver get out of the cab and shut the door.

There's the rustle of a cigarette packet and multiple clicks from a lighter.

A few hours earlier, the overwhelming odour of diesel told him they’d refuelled.

Why hadn’t the driver bought a new lighter? Surely having a spare is less frustrating than

finding hers is dead? Oh now he remembers, the plastic duck dressed as the Village

People biker had explained to him that the tobacco displays were hidden from sight in

petrol stations nowadays. Out of sight, out of mind. A deep inhale suggests the driver is getting her fix. A few drags later and he hears the

groan of the rear door latch. It needs oiling but in this desolate place no one else will hear.

The refrigerated trailer door hisses as it is opened a crack.

'Five minutes,” the driver says. “Get your stuff and be ready to move when I tell you.” The door shuts and the lever creaks back into place. He may have cotton wool

between his ears but he wishes it was stuffed down them instead.

He hears murmuring and movement as people gather their meagre belongings.

The duck believed listening to muffled cries was the worst thing they could be forced to

endure. It wasn't

He misses the duck with its tenor of Joe Pasquale and an annoying habit of singing

“Go West” whenever they headed along the A20 from Dover to Southampton.

A stone had been flicked up by the wheels of a blue Audi in front, ripped through the

bird’s body and pulled him from his strapping. The duck was crushed beneath the

lorry’s wheels emitting a final feeble squeak.The driver chain smokes, pacing the grass verge on the far side of the lorry.

He imagines she looks like a dog searching for the perfect place to take a shit.

This ruse seems to work. Who would assume the driver of a stopped lorry was doing anything

other than taking a comfort break? A van approaches. She stamps out her cigarette

and blows into her hands to warm them. The inevitable unmarked white van pulls in

behind the lorry, without turning its engine off. They never do.The driver reopens the trailer and says, ‘Men only in this van.’ He hears thumps of

disembarkation and the sliding of van doors. He can just make out the muffled voice of a

woman asking a question in a language he does not recognise. She is told to shut up

and wait. He does not know if she understands the words but the message is clear

when the door slams shut. The van pulls away. There is more waiting before a second van

arrives.

‘Out,’ the driver says.He hears the scuffle of the women climbing down and children slide into their arms.

Any weeping is hushed as they hurry to the van. The driver grunts as she climbs into

the trailer. Convinced it’s clean and no traces have been left behind, she jumps down and

locks the door for the final time. The second van is long gone

This run must have been successful; there’d been no inconsolable wailing.

He tries to forget the rigid embrace of his young girl, her beautiful brown eyes frozen

wide as he was prised from her stiff arms. Yes, he was loved once but he hadn’t been

heart-warming enough.