'This is the smell of a horror story': How firefighter worked 36 hours to rescue Spanish flood victims

We are driving through the beleaguered town of Algemesi and Sam Borras Garcia is at the wheel, guiding us through a landscape of destruction and desperation.

You can't miss our car - big, muscular, bright yellow and red. Sam is a firefighter, a son of this town. He wants the world to see what Algemesi has suffered.

We are waved through a police roadblock and drive into the town. The only other vehicles here are either emergency services, or else they're smashed cars. "It's incredible," he mutters as we enter. "This is my town, my family, my friends."

As he edges round the roads, the car can barely squeeze between the growing piles of rubbish on either side. We have to avoid large, gaping holes in the road where drain covers were washed away. Periodically, he stops to comfort locals, to greet friends and offer advice.

He was on duty the night of the floods, and it is like a scar in his memory. He blows out as he remembers.

"The day when the rain came was very crazy," he tells me. "People called my phone, crying, saying 'I'm going to die, I'm going to die, help us, help us'. It was very traumatic. This whole night was traumatic."

He told me he worked for around 36 hours in a row after the floods came, with no food and no break: "I am so tired. So many hours working. It's very hard."

But he keeps going, even when he takes off his uniform. Algemesi, this ruined town, is his home, and he feels invested in helping it to recover.

"I need to help these people. Yes, it's my work but when I stop my official work, I stay here and I ask - what do you need? Do you need help, do you need water, do you need people to clean? When I clean my house and help my family, I also try to help these other people."

Along the streets, there is a sense of camaraderie, of a united purpose. It is cheering to see and feel. He is full of praise for the thousands of volunteers who gave up their weekends, descending on this town, and many others, to clear mud and support the most vulnerable victims.

But when we stop at the entrance to an underground car park, it is simply horrible - the smell horrible, the atmosphere dark and ominous. Everyone knows that many victims of this flood died in car parks like this one.

"When the water comes in, it's impossible to get out with the car," says Sam. "The water is too strong. When you try to fight against it, it's impossible."

We peer into the darkness.

"It's possible that we will find some people who died in their cars. People who were trying to save their cars, and died."

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It is, I suggest, a vision like a horror story. Sam shakes his head.

"It's not like a horror story," he says wistfully. "It is a horror story. And this smell - the engines, the oils, the petroleum, the debris. This is the smell of a horror story."

He worries that this could happen again, that there is nothing to say that the same weather conditions could not affect the same river. So, I wonder, what are the lessons that Spain should learn.

Firstly, he thinks there needs to be a way to raise the alarm quicker - to tell people of the danger that is approaching and to give them more time to get away. To provide clearer instructions.

But secondly, and maybe there is a lesson for all of us here, it is the need to put life above possessions. He says that on the night of the floods, he spoke to people on the phone who refused to leave their cars.

"People have to learn these things - in this situation forget your car, forget your house, forget your things - in this situation you have to save your life, and your families, your parents and your old neighbour who can't walk. That is more important than your car."