When the darkness cleared she saw that a medical supply truck had t-boned a school bus in the lanes ahead. A cherry convertible had run off the road to her left and on the other side of the interstate a motorcycle was on its side, wheels still spinning and its driver missing. The car behind her had slowed and stopped haphazardly in the middle of the road. She put her car in park and got out. The wind blew the smoke from the wreckage toward her. It was all very quiet. Moments later a small prop plane crash landed into route 10 behind her close enough for her to feel the heat of the flames on the back of her neck. She screamed. She didn’t immediately dial 9-1-1 but even if she had it would have just rang continuously anyway. Nobody had gotten out of any of the vehicles yet. She finally gave in when nobody had rushed to the accident and trotted towards the school bus tentatively, afraid of what she might find. There were no sirens, no screams, no screeching tires, just the blowing wind. She feared the driver was unconscious or dead and the children were trapped or worse they were all dead as well. She quickened her pace but when she arrived there was nobody inside—just a bus driver’s uniform. The medical supply truck was, of course, also empty. Eventually she returned to her own vehicle and made her way past the wreck and further west but she would find only more of the same.
