3rd person closed
It was one of those things that would later be described as a "freak accident" and a series of "unfortunate coincidences".
The bus was due in at the city garage later that week; the fact that the brakes were almost bare would have been discovered then. Fire hydrants had been flushed a few hours ago but the street was still a little slick with water. Construction had finished on the bus lane along the same street three days ago; there was no traffic to impede the progress of the bus and the driver took advantage to try to speed things along.
When the light changed to red, he braked, but nothing happened. The bus began to slide on the water as passengers screamed and grabbed the seats in front of them as if that would prevent the oncoming disaster. There was nothing the driver could do except yell unheard-shouts at oncoming traffic.
Oncoming traffic and a lone bicyclist.
Alex was dodging and weaving through cars, eyes on the green light when nearly 26 tons of metal broadsided him. His bike was caught, and he and it tumbled under and then dragged along until the bus (thankfully) was stopped by the concrete side of a building.
It all happened in an instant but the damage was undeniable. Traffic had come to a noisy stop as cars ran into each other. People rushed away from the scene, then toward it. Sirens could already be heard not so far away.
Alex lay broken and bleeding, half under the bus, unconscious. His helmet was designed to withstand many things but impact with hundreds of thousands of pounds of bus wasn't one of them. His skull was fractured. His arm. Both legs. There wasn't a patch of skin on him that wasn't scraped raw. It was hard to tell where the blood was coming from there was so much seeping away.
The sirens got louder as emergency personnel raced through the crowd. There was a chance -- slim though it was -- that if they got him to the hospital in time, he might survive.
A very, very slim chance.
The bus was due in at the city garage later that week; the fact that the brakes were almost bare would have been discovered then. Fire hydrants had been flushed a few hours ago but the street was still a little slick with water. Construction had finished on the bus lane along the same street three days ago; there was no traffic to impede the progress of the bus and the driver took advantage to try to speed things along.
When the light changed to red, he braked, but nothing happened. The bus began to slide on the water as passengers screamed and grabbed the seats in front of them as if that would prevent the oncoming disaster. There was nothing the driver could do except yell unheard-shouts at oncoming traffic.
Oncoming traffic and a lone bicyclist.
Alex was dodging and weaving through cars, eyes on the green light when nearly 26 tons of metal broadsided him. His bike was caught, and he and it tumbled under and then dragged along until the bus (thankfully) was stopped by the concrete side of a building.
It all happened in an instant but the damage was undeniable. Traffic had come to a noisy stop as cars ran into each other. People rushed away from the scene, then toward it. Sirens could already be heard not so far away.
Alex lay broken and bleeding, half under the bus, unconscious. His helmet was designed to withstand many things but impact with hundreds of thousands of pounds of bus wasn't one of them. His skull was fractured. His arm. Both legs. There wasn't a patch of skin on him that wasn't scraped raw. It was hard to tell where the blood was coming from there was so much seeping away.
The sirens got louder as emergency personnel raced through the crowd. There was a chance -- slim though it was -- that if they got him to the hospital in time, he might survive.
A very, very slim chance.