West, Texas: traumatised town reels from fertiliser plant explosion Volunteers helping out at a distribution centre in West, Texas, in the aftermath of the fertiliser plant explosion. Photograph: Frederic J Brown/AFP/Getty Images As rescue workers continued their search through the wreckage of dozens of buildings razed by the Texas fertiliser plant explosion, clothes piled up on tables in the breakfast room of a hotel that has become the temporary home of residents who have lost everything but their lives. Boxes of doughnuts and cookies were stacked next to hundreds of garments donated as part of the relief effort for the victims of Wednesday's fire and explosion at a fertilizer plant in the small Texas town of West, near Waco. The Czech Inn is five minutes' drive from the blast site and most of its 70 rooms are occupied by displaced, disheveled residents. A wide area around the plant remained sealed off by police on Friday as frustration grew among those unable to return to their houses - or what remains of them. Andrew Malinovsky said that his home about 11 blocks from the plant had largely escaped damage but that he was not permitted to get back to access his medicine. I'm a diabetic, disabled veteran. They won't even let me get to my house to get the essential stuff I need to live: medications, my breathing machine," he said in the hotel lobby. Malinovsky was sitting in his living room when the plant exploded. "It was like somebody went wham and slapped my whole body from front and back," he said. Anissa Adamson was relieved that her son happened to be on an evening shift at the Czech Stop bakery and convenience store on Wednesday night. He lives next to the plant in an apartment complex that is now just a tattered metal skeleton. "We're lucky, everyone in my family got out," she said. Most of her relatives live close to the plant but only one cousin required hospital treatment. Adamson herself moved out of her son's building less than three weeks ago. Hundreds gathered on Thursday night at a packed church service for the victims near West's modest downtown, many wearing red and white jerseys bearing the logo of the town's beloved Trojans high school football team. The field was used as a triage center. "Our town of West will never be the same, but we will persevere," Father Ed Karasek told mourners. T-shirts that say "GOD BLESS WEST" are now in fashion. International media, charities, politicians and state and federal agencies are crowding a town that normally only expects to welcome large numbers of outsiders for its annual Czech heritage festival. Even before the number of dead and their names have been formally confirmed, even while locals can only assess the destruction from gossip among neighbours and the apocalyptic footage being aired again and again on television news, life's practical necessities are imposing a framework on this crushed community, giving it structure amid the shock. Roads are busy. Many shops are open. Spirited polka music was pumped out from the Village Bakery on to a sidewalk still littered with broken glass from shattered windows. Children need to go back to school on Monday - somewhere. An insurance company has set up a stall outside an antiques shop. Another has parked a mobile crisis response unit at the main entrance to the town, the Stars and Stripes on its tall portable flagpole whipping from side to side in the heavy breeze. A Dallas-based law firm issued a press release saying it is "investigating possible lawsuits" - call now! At the moment the town is still too traumatised to think about recriminations, still more interested in compassion than consequences. The cause of the disaster remained unclear Friday afternoon. Adamson said she did not blame them for anything. It's not their fault, I know those people. We don't point fingers here, we just help," she said. Bad things happen to good people. One of those presumed dead was Joey Pustejovsky, a West volunteer firefighter, the City Secretary. "I worked with him for a while, he seemed to be doing a really good job, very dedicated ... he had a lot of ambition," said Suzy Price, a semi-retired photographer. Jimmy Matus, owner of a welding business, is also reported to have perished. A friend said he restored old fire trucks and used to dress up with his wife as Mr and Mrs Santa Claus to greet kids at community events. She died in 2011, aged 52. Also believed dead is "Buck" Uptmor, owner of a fencing company, and former rodeo rider, who was helping a man move horses to safety.