We could only guess the fate of the other eighty or so people on this exploration oilrig surrounded by
thousands of square miles of blazing hot sand far from the beautiful city of Timbuktu, the capital of
Mali and the Niger River. I’m sure we each wondered how safe our safe-room really was, hidden deep
beneath the heavily armoured concealed flooring. Those with stomach enough watched the CCTV
screen while the rest of our 11 only imagined the atrocities taking place outside. The silence following
the shaking ground, as explosions ripped through the steelwork above, seemed to define the end of the
attack, and in a curious way, we felt more secure in the dim emergency light with no CCTV to worry
us.
Apart from Mary, who remained standing in her canteen overalls, we sat on the floor not daring to
breathe while taking some comfort from her smiling face. She’d always made us laugh and she’d parry
innuendoes from the men with matching comments stored over the last fifty years. ‘Three hours,’ Mary
mouthed while holding up one hand and pushing each digit closed with the forefinger of her other. I
thought she was giving us her estimated time for the gangs outside to finish killing, destroying or
stealing equipment and rounding up survivors to be taken away in the five trucks we’d seen arrive.
However, she finished by pointing to the unfamiliar and little read safety instructions on the wall next
to her. After reading line one: “Keep Calm”, I remembered the emergency drill and eagerly read on;
“When this door is fully locked from the inside, an automatic emergency signal will be sent to the
country’s rescue stations and a ground team should be with you within 3 hours”.
It was the should that worried me most because the following lines were about conserving oxygen,
the location of compressed air cylinders (along with their instructions), possible sleeping arrangements
and details of emergency bedding, toilet facilities and how to conserve water. I tried to stop Andy, the
safety engineer, from counting down the time but he took no notice. ‘At least make it every half hour,’
I whispered. But no. ‘170 minutes’ he wrote on the white board bolted to the wall, after rubbing out 180.
Above the absolute silence within our safety room I thought I heard the sound of truck engines
and they moved off. We agreed with various hand movements that only four had left. Nobody moved a
muscle when Mary held out her hand as if to increase the silence while she studied the walls in search
of a thumping sound from above. ‘Help!’ Annie, the systems clerk, screamed before Bill managed to
clamp his hand over her mouth, she then kicked and bit at the two men and Mary while they attempted
to restrain her. She broke loose and was about to scream again when, fortunately, she seemed to faint.
Bill and Mary held Annie tight while blood from a bite to Bill’s hand trickled down the back of Mary’s
shirt. They and the rest of us remained as statues in the semi-darkness for about a minute after we were
sure there was no other noise apart from the pounding of our hearts and the fifth truck starting up.
Moments later, Mary pulled her kitchen knife out from under Annie’s rib cage and Bill took the full
weight of Annie’s body.
The remaining nine of us (and against Mary’s protestations) used the remaining time to fabricate
and agree a plausible story of Annie’s demise. The relief at having finished and rehearsed it was almost
palpable but I think it’s fair to say we were all extremely nervous when we heard noises.
‘The code at the bottom of your safety notice is Alpha Alpha Zero Zero five five seven,’ a voice
boomed over a loud hailer from outside. ‘We’re your rescue team. Knock on the door using the metal
rod on the hook next to the door to indicate you are able to open it from inside.’
Mary remained silent as Annie’s body was carried out while the rest of us found no way of
expressing our gratitude to her for saving our lives.
It’s strange how that conspiracy glued us together, apart from Mary that is, whom we visited at the
Littlemore mental hospital in Oxford once a year.
‘She’s not smiled or said a word since the day she was admitted to this unit 12 years ago,’ said the
nurse as we gathered around her bed. ‘I think she’d just come back from somewhere east, or was it
Africa? I can look it up if you like.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Bill. ‘But thank you.’
H E Roffey
Silent Rescue
