The entire 141 was like a collapsed house of cards, the cars smashed together, lying on top of one another.
That is, all of the cars with the exception of car two. The demolished and tossed train cars seemed to form a tepee and car two rested in the pocket of the wreckage. The only car not completely crushed.
There were some light dances of lights—sparks from broken wires, the flash of emergency lights that couldn’t stay on and the glow of the cell phones that weren’t beneath the mounds of people.
There were moans, not a lot, and Abby heard them. She was fortunate enough to be on top of the mound of people instead of buried beneath them.
She never lost consciousness. She may have lost her bearings when things happened so fast, but she was aware. She was so much aware that she clutched tightly to her seat. Her body flipped one way then another but she kept holding on until that final slam.
She was lying face down and she needed to get up. She could feel wetness on her chest but with her body so numb, she didn’t know if it was her blood or something else.
Using her hands as leverage, Abby lifted herself up some. Her mouth dropped open but she lost her breath. The scream she uttered was barely heard as she found herself face to face with the wide open eyes of another woman.
Clearly the woman was dead.
Panicking inside, Abby tried to lift herself from the woman. But she couldn’t get a footing.
“Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone else alive?”
“Yeah,” a man’s voice replied. “I’m stuck.”
“I’m trying to…” Abby stopped.
She heard it. At least she thought she did.
It was a loud and distant boom that was followed by another and then one more.
“What was that?” Abby asked, as if expecting someone to know.
“What was what?” the man asked. “I’m really stuck.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Abby thought she had it; her foot found a place and she was able to lift herself to her knees. When she did, the flashing light brought it into focus.
It was the little blue book bag.
“Oh my God,” Abby gasped.
The boy, the little boy that was on the train was carrying that bag. But where was he?
She looked around. So much was unrecognizable; she couldn’t get her bearings on where she was in the train.
“Little boy,” she called out. “Little boy.”
No answer.
Immediate panic consumed her. It wasn’t her child, yet she felt a mother’s pain over it. Her foot slipped some, but she was able to rest it upon something. Then she reached back, grabbing for a seat to hold on to. The train was on its side and as she pulled herself up she saw the people below her. They overlapped. Some moved; some didn’t. Everyone had just toppled together making it impossible for anyone to free themselves.
“Dad,” a young voice called out. “Dad?”
Abby gasped. It was the child. She knew in their car at least, there was only one child. But where was he? He was calling out for his father, but his voice wasn’t close.
Where?
The moment the train hit its breaks, Tyler’s father huddled over him, wrapping his arms around him. Tyler remembered burying his face in his father’s arms, holding on tight and his little fingers gripping his father’s shirt. But then they hit something and his father’s hold released.
Tyler flew out of his father’s arms, across the train car. He was so tiny he hit no one. He was like a perfectly thrown basketball, sailing in the small space. Just before the train landed completely on its side, Tyler went seamlessly through the window.
Swish.
His hip hit the concrete first and, like the time he fell from his bike, his body skidded across the concrete and he rolled over and over. He could hear the train sliding against the concrete, the metal squealing loudly against the ground until it came to a stop.
Tyler was hurt. He could feel it, but couldn’t think about. Once his body came to a stop he looked up to see the remaining train cars careening his way, reckless, out of control with the cars flipping haphazardly.
Scurrying to his knees and then to his feet, Tyler was running before he was completely standing.
There really wasn’t anywhere to go, but he ran away from the certain impact that was headed toward him straight to train car number two. He slipped in a small space between the train car and the wall, brought his knees to his chest, covered his head and screamed.
His screams were buried beneath the crashing sounds of the tumbling cars.
How he escaped getting crushed was nothing shy of a miracle.
But he did.
Bleeding just a little from concrete rash burns that would radiate through him later, Tyler crawled out when everything stopped and grew silent.
He had to find his father.
“Okay, swell, I’m stuck,” Harry thought. He must have been knocked out because he had one doozie of a headache. He only hoped he hadn’t fractured his skull. His hands were free and he felt for his nose and then his ears. No fluid. Good sign. But then again, he was stuck.
Leo’s gift was digging into his chest due to the weight of the man on top of it, dead weight.
