Clearing her throat, the reporter says, “Right.” She looks back into the crowd behind her. “Is this hero still around? Can you describe him to us?”
The female witness shakes her head, “He’s older than me, so I’d say in his late twenties or early thirties. And… he’s h-o-t, hot. Plus, he had on these retro glasses that sort of made him look like Superman.”
“Superman?”
The woman rolls her eyes. “Well, not Superman, obviously.”
The reporter chuckles.
“Clark Kent. The glasses made him look like Clark Kent. You know, Superman’s alias.”
“Right.” The reporter smiles into the camera. “I’d sure like to see that.” Then she titters. “Do you see him somewhere?”
The young woman turns back to look into the crowd of people who’ve gathered around the bus. “I saw him talking to the police, but I haven’t seen him since. I know someone was holding his dog for him while he saved us all.”
“Right. Thank you for your eyewitness accounts.” The reporter moves until she’s the only one on the screen. “Police say the driver of the bus had some kind of health emergency and that he was in stable condition before being transported to Weill Cornell Medical Center. No passengers were injured during the ordeal.” She turns a little bit and sighs. “Well, that’s all for now. This is Sandra Smithson live on 30thStreet in LIC. Back to Bill and Malory in the studio.”
Bill in the studio takes over my screen. “Be sure to get us any updates, will you, Sandra?” He turns to the other anchor. “I’d sure like to know more about that superhero.”
Malory replies, “Me too, Bill. Me too. That’s fascinating.”
I turn down the television when they start talking about sports. Standing up, I walk back over to my window and lean out again. There are still some faint lights flashing onto the building, which means there’s probably only one or two police cars left.
Malory was right. That was fascinating.
Chapter Ten
Ben
What a rush.
The adrenaline is still pumping through me even though the whole thing happened an hour ago.
“Wasn’t that eventful, Sky?” I’m holding my girl close to my chest because her little body is shaking. All those sirens and lights really frightened my poor dog. That and I handed her off to a complete stranger in the rush, someone who was behind me in line at Mike’s. No wonder she’s slightly traumatized. “Shh, I’ve got you, girl.”
It was eventful and scary as hell. I felt like a sitting duck as I watched that bus careen from one side of the street to the other like a ball in a pinball machine. It took out a couple of cars that were parked on the street and one bicycle that just happened to be locked to a parking meter.
When I scanned the scene, one of the first things I noticed was the bus was driverless. From that, I’d guessed something happened to the driver. Without thinking, I handed Sky off to the lady behind me, saying something like, “Hold on to her. I’ve got to stop that bus.” I know the woman spoke, but I was already running for the bus. Luckily it was heading west, so the door was on my side. That and the bus wasn’t moving at a high speed. Fast enough to cause damage and injury for sure, but slow enough that I was able to jump up and grasp the door handle. Grabbing that, I yanked the door open and used my upper body strength to pull myself up and into the seat.
I was right. The driver was lying prone, his foot still on the gas while the rest of his body was on the floor. The people on the bus were screaming and crying—generally freaking out. I don’t blame them. As fast as I could, I pressed my foot on the brake and pulled it as far over as I could without hitting anything. Once I was at a complete stop, I shifted it into Park and grabbed my phone to call 9-1-1.
“I already called 9-1-1,” said a voice from behind me.
I turned to see a woman who was probably in her ’70s. “Okay, good.” I looked down at the man, then back at the same woman. Reaching down, I pressed my palm on his throat, searching for a pulse. Luckily, I felt one. “Are you all okay?”
There was silence for a few seconds. I looked back, hoping there wasn’t someone else on the floor.
“We’re okay,” said a male voice.
“Do you know what happened to him?” I nod toward the bus driver.
“We don’t know,” said another woman. She looked a little older than the first one. “One minute he was driving, the next minute he was sliding off the seat.”
Sirens started to sound around us. “Can you all take your seats now? The police are coming. They’ll want to talk to you. But if anyone is hurt, please let them know.”
“Okay.”
Someone released a sob-like sound. “Thank you, young man.”
