The Edge of the Precipice


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Scene Title The Edge of the Precipice
Synopsis Chaos strikes the Williamsburg Bridge, and leaves behind it half a bus stranded in midair between bridge and water. With passengers still on board. Not to mention trouble up and down the rest of the bridge. Life perforce becomes interesting when everyone wakes back up.
Date June 10, 2010

Williamsburg Bridge, near Lower East Side

Twelve pm, plus perhaps two minutes. Gray skies and the usual city miasma filter the sunlight to something dreary, something that feels more like autumn than summer. Perhaps it's the auditory ambiance which shapes this bleak impression — water laps against the shore far below, a seagull's plaintive cries cutting through a peculiarly thick quietude. A car alarm blares from perhaps two blocks deeper in Lower East Side, and others percolate over from more muted distance. The engines of maybe two dozen cars rumble, adding to the sense of background static, but traffic on the Williamsburg Bridge is at a complete standstill.

Towards the rear of the line, a large white van of the moving variety doesn't contribute to the underlying rumble of motor noise; it can't, with a massive dent crumpling the radiator into the engine behind. In a conflict with one of the bridge's metal support posts, the van clearly lost. Rousing to a steering wheel's surface imprinted on his cheek, a seatbelt's edge dimpling the side of his neck, and the sound of a blaring horn — button mashed beneath the angle of his jaw — Teo has a fine view of the rivets and flaking paint marching up the beam. Also, spiderwebbed windshield.

From Teo's pocket comes an insistent electronic chirp: his cellphone, declaring the recent receipt of a text message.

In the passenger seat, Delilah is no longer cradling her newborn boy, but rather slumped uncomfortably against the taut length of a seatbelt, its narrow edge surprisingly painful when enough pressure is applied. Ridged metal pinches at her left foot, the van's crumple zone apparently not quite absorbing all of the collision's force; no harm done, at least to Dee herself, but it won't let the shoe go easily — or entirely intact.

Blocky little lumps of green-white safety glass litter the street surface like some layer of bizarre pavement, companion to the crumpled bumpers of vehicles strung together end-to-end, one after another all in a jagged row. At the very front is the longer shape of an articulated commuter bus, the B-39 route, its two-part body skewed at an angle, blue-painted logo ripped and gouged by scraping along the guard rail. The rail itself is broken, stress-fractures from the deep freeze having given away before the impacting mass of the public transit vehicle…

At the very back of the bus, Abby has fallen from her seat, kneeling on the floor with her cheek pressed against the next seat forward, facing the left wall of the vehicle; moving brings the sensation of unpleasantly angular edges pressing against her shoulder and left side. To look at it, it's clear she narrowly missed a close and personal introduction to the crumpled-in left rear corner of the bus. As it is, she'll have bruises on her knees, and perhaps an elbow, before the day is through — and the stiffness slowly but implacably unfolding into a burning ache suggests whiplash, to boot.

…and nearly the whole front car of the bus itself is suspended dangerously off the left side of the bridge, nothing supporting its downward slant except the inertia of the vehicle's rear and the broken railing jammed into its side. The stiff breeze blowing down from the north rattles the dangling car, whistling faintly against the edges of shattered windows. It seems like any wrong move, any jostling of the carriage, no matter how small, should send it crashing to its doom in the river below.

Kaylee wakes out of fading vision to find her face not three inches away from a jutting outcrop of coarse concrete, its surface riddled with tracings of fracture lines. The window that just minutes prior offered an eminently unremarkable view of the bridge supports passing by on the right is now nothing more than a hole framed by crumbling bits of glass. Her right forearm is half-pinned by twisted, tortured metal, the side of the bus apparently more frail than the concrete which gouged it; Kaylee's flesh has proven frailer still, pain shooting up her nerves even as sticky warmth oozes down from where the damage wall in turn gouged through her skin. From the feel of it, her right calf bears similar scrapes, though less serious.

On her left, beside the aisle, Silver finds himself shoved up against Kaylee, his head bowed against the back of the seat before them. His arm is not outstretched, but arm thrust forward as if in unconscious attempt to avert collision — though bent the wrong way at the wrist, fingers down instead of palm out. The contortion of his body into this position is jarringly inconsistent with the vision he just experienced; there's a tension in his neck that suggests something may have knotted or pulled, but all told it seems little more than an inconvenience.

The face of the bus is a true wreck, metal and glass perforated by concrete and more metal; the driver slumps over the steering wheel, blood trickling down his temple and dripping from one slack arm.

Two seats back from the very front of the bus, Hana bolts half-upright in her seat, long fingers digging into the seatback before her as if she might tear it apart by main force and will. She doesn't, gradually comprehending the reality of these surroundings. Her head hurts. Dark eyes take in the edges of fractured glass and twisted metal, blood and injury, the yawning expanse of gray water below that her memory declares doesn't fit in and shouldn't be here — and, leaning against the seat before her for support, knuckles gone bloodless white with the force of her grip, Hana Gitelman fails to look away.

She should have insisted on driving her car off the lot. Taken the time, but paranoid about getting to work on time, the possibility of hold up with the vehicle, she'd just dumped stuff in the trunk and taken the bus. Taken the bus and then witnessed Delilah giving birth. So strange and odd, she might have thought it was her manifesting if she hadn't already and there's silent thanks that she devoured a negation pill before leaving the apartment this morning for her meetings.

Self awareness kicks in, then situational. Doesn't move until she can take an inventory of her own self. Bruises, soreness, sharp pain? No, ache. She'll take the chance and move if only because there are others who — she's sure — have been hurt as well, if not possibly more. Blackout or whatever else that was responsible. "Is anyone hurt?" Abby calls out, voice breaking at first, familiar southern dulcet tones to others on the bus who knew her. One hand reaches out for where her work duffle had been. It's a foot away instead. "Anyone know what happened?"

"April?" comes the murmuring of an awakening lawyer who's found himself smooshed up against Kaylee. "Fu—.." he starts, stirring as he tries to sit up only the shooting pain at his neck stops him from finishing his curse. There's a tangled feeling about all of this, as if his body is tied up like a pretzel, though it isn't. Carefully, he tries to sit upright as he turns to give Kaylee a small shake, "April?" Though the girl doesn't look much like April Bradley, the vision that's occured hasn't quite left his mind. It's only then that he realizes where he is and what he was doing prior. Chatting idly with Kaylee about nothing in particular, pleasantries.

He should have charged Daphne more for wrecking his car, making him have to take this goddamned bus in the first place. The severity of the sitation hasn't quite hit him as he begins to try and help Kaylee, by first giving her a gentle shake. Little things begin to flood his mind wondering how long he was out, how'd the bus crash and if there's anyone else seriously hurt. One thing at a time. He brings his other hand up to try and check Kaylee for a pulse when he notices the pain in his wrist as well, "Shit.." He finally gets two fingers on her neck.

At the touch, blue eyes snap open, her breath hitching, panic gripping her making her heart pound hard in her chest. First it is for the dream itself, then for when Kaylee realizes where she is and that something is very wrong. Her eyes focus on the world outside, panicking mental voices battering at her mental shields, it's enough to make the young woman groan.

Then she tries to move; it sends pain shooting up her arm, she makes a little pained sound in the back of her throat. "Ow…" she says softly, her other hand moving to feel her pinned arm. "My arm's caught," she says roughly, where they are not exactly registering yet as she move her hand to see blood on her fingers. Her head twists to where she can look at Silver. "You — you okay? I… god. It was so real." She angles her head as best as she can to check to see if she has a wound on her side, but only finds undamaged fabric.

Kaylee's head thumps against the glass again, letting her eyes focus on the concrete close by. "When.. when did we crash?" She doesn't remember that happening.

Even before she fully wakes, Delilah's state sends her arms up to grasp at something— a someone— that is no longer there. For a split second, there is naught but panic. He's gone— her breathing hitches, palms grabbing at the space below her collarbone. "Walter—"

It takes a hazy blink of her eyes before Dee realizes that she is still sitting in the passenger seat of the moving van; her fingers find the grind of the seatbelt, fingertips wrapping under it and relieving the pressure there. There's something on her foot— she pulls slightly on that ankle, the shoe popping right off in the teeth of whatever part of the van came through there. Oh, bugger. She is slow to sit back, spine carefully finding the seat, thoughts glazing over whether there is anything that actually did— well— anything to her. What even happened? Lilah's hands find her belly, giving her some security in knowing nothing hit her there. It is only now that she seems to notice that the horn is effectively a siren, the rush of wakefulness becoming awareness.

"…Teo …your face is making a racket."

Hello, world. Why are there three of you? At best, Teo can only remember there should've been two, layered one over the other by astral projection or the forking separation of timelines. He closes his eyes. Opens them again. The feeling comes back into his face scar-first, the familiar ache creaking through the ruined edges of the rift, and then the nervous recognition of the line of his cheek as a physically separate entity from… oh. This would be what Delilah's voiceover is fuzzing about, over the twitter of his phone.

He lurches upright and the horn swallows its own voice. Automatically wiping drool off his exposed teeth with the back of his hand, he twists his head around, blinks until Delilah slides into focus. "Jesus fuck. Are you okay? Is Wal— I'm sorry, I guess I fell asleep or some shit." Neurological damage. He's already beating himself up about that, or starting to, after his fever-visions— like he really ought to have known better. Only then his vision finally begins to register light and motion further than a yard away from himself, and then another dozen feet, before the vanishing point of the horizon plummets out into the river, the bridge's columned ropes, the nonsense knot and tangle of collided traffic, flickering smoke, and skewed vehicles ahead.

Not even his concept of Catholic guilt is expansive enough to take credit for all of this. "Cazzo," he says, pale eyes going big in his scarred face. His hand moves of its own accord, to slap his fucking irritating phone off.

On the street where the bridge connects to it, where she waited for Teo to arrive with the hope of diverting him toward Little Italy and Piccoli's within that neighborhood, Cat has her iPhone in hand. The single word text message is read, and her brows furrow briefly. "Kadima?" The unnamed source is mulled over, it could be Rebel or some other technopath. Like the one Edward Ray brought with him from the future. But the word itself is a solid clue to the sender. "Okay, Hana. I doubt you'd send me a message with the name of a political party, so…" She starts to walk up the bridge toward the disaster site, not yet seeing what's going on. Because to her…

It's forward.

Outside the bus, other people clamber out of their cars, squinting perplexedly at the tableau. Gasps and exclamations of horrified shock greet the sight of the bus hanging over the edge… but none of them go closer than about fifteen feet, as if they're afraid any attempt to rescue the people inside would dislodge the vehicle from its perch. Feet scuffle through the bits of broken glass, and a couple of (former) drivers begin to unleash invectives at the crippled states of their cars.

More voices rise in a swelling murmur of bewilderment as the other passengers on the bus rouse and begin assimilating their changed surroundings. A dozen speakers blend together, all asking questions; no one has answers, and the queries just keep getting shriller for the lack. Until someone on board finally realizes exactly what has happened to the front half of the bus — and then a teenage girl in the front car begins to shriek, scrambling out of her seat into the aisle with an overabundance of energy that makes the front car sway alarmingly. ohmygodwe'reallgoingtodiewehavetogetoutnowbeforewefall in apparently unceasing permutations.

She trips over the edge of a seat, and then the car really shakes, metal screeching as it scrapes anew against the broken guard rail.

"I think we're okay," someone in back tells Abigail. "If we can start getting off the bus. Like, now." The man leans forward, cautiously, looking down the aisle towards the sloping front car. "Not sure about them."

"I think I pulled something in my neck and sprained my wrist. But it's nothing a nice fat settlement won't cure." Lawyer humor, right? At least he still has his humor. He remembers reaching for April's hand and then waking up here. Tears begin to well up in his eyes, though he fights it for all he's worth. "I don't remember much of anything, to be honest. Look. Don't move. Let me see where you're stuck." His hands check her legs before seeing that her arm is what's pinned.

He can hear other movement going on towards the back of the bus, but he has to deal with the here and now, which means helping to get Kaylee free before he can help anyone else. Though Abby's voice from the rear registers with the lawyer and he hollars back. "I've got someone pinned up here in the front. As soon as I get her free, I'll see if there's anyone else. Maybe someone has a phone to call 9-1-1." Narrow focus, he has no idea that anyone else is even out there. In fact, it's only now that he's aware of the precarious position they are all in with part of the bus hanging off the bridge. "Shit," he mutters. "Be as still as possible here." Yeah, not going to say much else, lest she decide to gnaw her own arm off to avoid being stuck to the bus when it goes down, if it goes down.

The front half of the bus is hanging over the bridge. What is lodging the top half? Hopefully someone else outside knows, but inside, the pink haired woman knows that it could go at anytime, or in hours. Her phone twitters, letting her know she got a message but she's not looking at it right now.

"No. No, those of us in the back of the bus need to stay put. We're counterweight. We have the engine back here, but we're still counterweight." Holy crap, this never came up in her classes. Sure, how to deal with people when they get off of an accident like this. The bus sways, more so below than above, but it can still be felt.

"Stay put, Everyone. Don't move. My name is Abigail, I'm an EMT. The more you move, the more the bus will move. We'll try and get you all up and out in a timely manner, quick as possible but you need to stay calm." Abby makes contact with the floor, belly to the rubber coating and spreading her weight as she shifts forward. "Someone near a window yell out and see if anyone has any rope, any uhhh… jumper cords, anything that can be used to pull people up. Don't leave just ask."

Where's Magnes when you can really use him?

Giving her arm a tug, Kaylee winces again, letting out a soft huff of frustration. As the teenager gets out of her seat, the telepath cringes as she's assaulted by her panicked thought. "That girl… please… calm her. I can't think with her screaming in my head. I… think…" Kaylee leans away from her arm, breath hissing out as she pulls at it. "I think I can get it free… but it won't be worth much if she makes us fall."

The telepath sends a worried look out the window as she gives another tug. Something feels like it gives, as the sharp metal slices though soft skin, making her grit her teeth; the pain not quite hitting her yet, but it will. It allows her to get free.

Clutching a hand to the long cut, covering it from view, blood welling between fingers, she nods to Silver and manages a stressed-sounding, "I'm fine… go calm her. I'll get out." Kaylee even gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm fine, I think. Ate my shoe…" Delilah mutters, looking outside just as Teo does the same. Her expression is dumbstruck, having only been paying attention to herself and the driver. And of course the rumpled van. "You're not the only one that went out. I did too— I saw—" She stops. "But we didn't cause this." That much she knows.

Meanwhile, her hands are fishing to dig the strap from her, back against the seat. Darn these automatic locks. Soon enough she settles for unbuckling herself and testing her feet on the floormat, one now bare. Whatever is going on outside can wait a few more seconds, as Dee would rather make sure she is perfectly well before thinking about rushing out into stalled bridge traffic.

Teo's shoes, on the other hand, seem to be intact. All parts of him. He conducts a check quick from experience, passes palm over his jaw, then rakes long fingers through his hair. While custom would have him banging his forehead against a hard surface to rattle his brain back into position, circumstances have already done that for him. There's no point in that. His eyes flit over the cellphone's tiny screen with neither comprehension nor interest, and then it's clacking shut, stuffed into his pocket. "I'm going outside.

"S— I think you should stay here." Never let it be said that Teodoro isn't a great believer in feminism, if that is relevant on some level that leaves his pregnant friend to decide whether or not she's going to climb out and into the chaos. He certainly is.

Not before turning off the ignition and passing key with a brusque palm to the redhead's keeping. The locking mechanism clunks open with a grip on handle, and then he slings one foot out, swings the second down. Skids slightly on the tarmac, slamming the door with both hands. Obscurely, he realizes someone should probably let Cat know that they're going to be late. His eyes are straining through the soupy midday gray-light, but it's to Delilah whom he yells through the windshield: "How does the bus look from your angle?"

It doesn't take long to spot the situation. Twenty yards of moving in the kadima direction brings Cat to a point where she can see it all, and she stops short. Ooookay then. That, if this was actually from Hana, would be why forward. She suspects that's the most reasonable conclusion, but she doesn't know. It's time to verify. Feet keep going even as she composes a reply text. In Hebrew.


«I'm on the bridge, see more crashes than I can quickly count and a bus about to go overboard. Am moving forward, per your direction. Can you advise further of situation?»

Just as she presses send, there's Il Siciliano coming out of the van. Italian is chosen for addressing him. "«Teo. Are you injured?»"

People mutter, grumble under their breath, but most of those in the back of the bus seem inclined to cling to their seats and watch Abby creep forward — at least temporarily. Shock and disbelief has inertial value.

Still wailing, the girl drags herself back upright; at the same time, several people on the front car begin shouting at her, made frantic by the feel of it swaying, however mildly. It's Hana that does something, though; the sound, the motion, something breaks her reverie. Stepping into the aisle and bracing her feet on the sloping floor, one hand grabs the girl's shoulder — and the other over her mouth. "Ssshhh. Stop and breathe." The teen's practically hyperventilating, and shaking like an aspen leaf, but she does stop. If she bears more resemblance to a deer in headlights, or a frightened rabbit, than a sane and rational being… well, that works.

Dark eyes survey the car; the Israeli woman pauses briefly to nod towards Silver, whether or not he's looking her way to see it. "Abigail!" Hana calls towards the rear car, towards the speaker with a familiar voice. "Clear path out—?" The question cuts off as Hana blinks, glancing aside.

Replies to Cat, in English — My direction? A momentary pause, before she continues. On the bus. Abby and Kaylee also here, among others. Rope or a long tie would be useful if you have one; we'll manage if you don't.

The man who first spoke to Abby seems to take that statement as a cue, snapping out of his transfixion and lunging for the bus's rear exit door. He doesn't care that he slashes his hand open on jagged metal in the process of shoving through it… and he's only the first of those behind Abby to do so.

Almost courteously, the ring of gawkers absently shuffle aside enough that the bus-escapees have a gap to filter out by.

Metal squalls again with shifting balance and uncoordinated movements; from the outside, the rear of the bus seems to skew ever so slightly towards the left. Towards the edge. …But maybe it's an optical illusion. It could be.

Silver is quite aware that if too many from the rear of the bus get off before those near the front do, there will be trouble. Once he sees that the girl that Kaylee pushed him towards is taken care of, he turns back to her and helps her up, despite whatever protests she gives. "Just nice and slow now," he encourages her as sweat begins to trickle down his face into his scruffy jawline. Once he's halfway back, he hands off Kaylee to whoever is there to help her the rest of the way off. "Possible broken arm or hand. It was pinned in the metal. Be careful."

He lifts his eyes towards Abby, "I'm going to try to one by one carefully bring those from the frontmost portion of the bus to you back here. I'd appreciate it those that are already here in the rear would remain so they're not pulling me out of the water later on tonight." He turns and slowly makes his way back to find the next person to lead forward. "Careful now."

"Yeah. Yeah, we got a clear path, we can get people out." Hana's there. This is good. The cool-headed Israeli. "Get the people who are easily removed up and going first, that will clear room for folks who need more help. They're looking for ropes." Abby's never done overtly well with heights and so she's making an effort not to look beyond the bus to the water.

And there's a familiar face, Abby leaning her arms down, wedging her feet, ankles and lower legs around a stable-looking seat. "Hey, Kaylee. I was just looking for you." Offering some situational humor to ease the tension as she grabs the woman's good arm and makes to grab her waist. "Climb over me, there will be folks to help you outside. Careful steps okay?"

Delilah is the keeper of the key for as long as it stays in her jacket pocket, where she immediately stashes it before peering outward through the side of the windshield. "It looks like it's chickening out on a bungee. It's bad." She can barely see it, but the fact that the middle is buckled over leaves little to the imagination. After this, she gently gets out of the van, testing her footing and making a steady go of getting away from the crumpled vehicle.

"What a mess…" Dee hasn't seen Cat— she is instead surveying the bridge from beside the van, arms crossing tightly, nervously.

Teo's long strides carry him around the nose of the van and up behind the next passenger vehicle over, before he hears a second familiar female voice through the blare of horns and mortal dismay. He glances back, fetches an arm up to wave at her. Hey, Catherine! Great weather we're having. Looks like we're going to be a few minutes behind schedule, but the cops are going to have a lot to deal with before they try to inventory our van full of Underground Railway supplies, si?

"I'm fine!" he hollers back. "I'm going to stick my head in bus."

This might come as ill-advised, considering the people trickling out of the beleaguered vehicle, but it's where he's heading on a quickening stride. Ragged, off-blond hair bouncing like a crippled bird's wing, an arm out to fend off the hapless pedestrians and sundry who happen to be getting in his fucking way, guided by his unerring instinct to run in the opposite direction that common sense would dictate. The next moment, he's squeezing in through the cramped rubber-lipped doors, elbow and fist rapping stolidly against the hollow sheet metal of the wall.

The skewed angle of the front car is disorienting to stare down into, at the very least. The bus' interior channels his voice through, amplifying it like the resonance chamber of some instrument. "Hey! How many left?"

"No, Teo, don't do that!" Cat shouts at him as she reads Hana's reply message, looking up to see it's too late. Hopefully he won't make the damn thing tip over. Eyes begin to dart around, checking out cars and such in the area. Her voice is used again, focused into a semblance of what she'd use for a stage to carry and compel attention. "Listen up! Anyone with rope in their cars, get it now! Bring it to me!" Of course, asking Teo to check the van is moot now, but she does hear the British tones of a redhead. "Dee! Look for rope in the van!" Then she'd heading for the precariously balanced vehicle, texting on the fly.

I'm on it. Please ask Teo to get his ass back here and help me find rope instead of leaving me hanging.

Quick footsteps are taken to get into a position for supplying whatever she can secure to the occupants.

"All right," Hana calls back to Abby. She nods to Silver, in agreement with this plan. Hands firm on the girl's shoulders, the Israeli nudges his forward. "Walk slow," she says — and then lets her go.

Amazingly, the girl does walk up the sloping car towards Silver, trembling every step of the way.

Teo's intrusion into the back of the bus completely stops the hemorrhaging of passengers from it; but the shouts going back and forth blunts any coordination of protest against him. The fact that, apparently, several someones are taking coherent charge shuts down the rest before it starts. "Seven more down here," she passes up. "I'm eight." No way is Hana going to let anyone else be the last off the front car.

The search Cat instigates unfortunately yields little — rope is not a usual equipment item in the city, even in the van full of Ferry supplies. But bandages are, as well as antiseptics and other first aid supplies, which she and Delilah can apply to those milling around outside who need them.

With all of them keeping tight rein on the exodus, it becomes something almost orderly. It also progresses more quickly than the pell-mell escape earlier — and with less shifting on the part of the bus.

Coming up into the rear car, Hana is also implacable in insisting everyone there leaves first. It has the benefit of giving her one last look at the empty, damaged interiors of both cars, and the ambiguous blessing of evoking old memories.

Silver takes a step from the bus, landing on the street after handing off the second to the last occupant, the bus driver. Whatever his impression of the other passengers, Hana seems to be more than capable of taking care of herself. Regardless, he doesn't breathe easy until her feet hit the ground. It's then that the pain begins again in his neck and his wrist. It's also then that the vision or dream or whatever it was comes back to him once again. The memory is a vivid one. He takes a deep breath, spying Abby and walks over towards her. "Good work back there, by the way." Anything to force himself to continue to move onward. "Do we know if anyone called 9-1-1?" At least he's not bleeding anywhere. He's looking around as he talks for anyone else who might need some assistance. Then as if an afterthought, he offers his name, "I'm Silver, by the way."

"Teodoro Laundani, get your head out of that door and help people out instead of blocking it with your dumb Italian head." This prompts a grouse from someone else in the bus who takes offense at dumb and Italian used in the same sentence. But he's blocking the way and rope doesn't look like it will be much needed as many people suffered only cuts and scrapes, likely the same pain in the neck that she has. "Teo, that person there, her ankle, help her out. You, grab my bag," is murmured to the last person before Hana, a gesture to the navy duffle with EMT written across the side. "I can start checking people out, see who we need to call an ambulance for." Twice now she's been in situations off duty, and at least this time she's not enduring broken ribs for want of saving a woman.

Hana's hand is taken to help her over, help herself up and, quick as a wink, a flash of bright hair, she's out of the bus, blinking in the rain and at Silver. "Uhh, I'm sure others have. Called 9-1-1. Uhhm, Abby, Abigail. Are you okay, Do you need any help?"

Delilah does not need to be asked twice— as soon as she realizes what is going on with Cat yelling over at her, she pauses to listen before skittering to the back doors of the van to pop them open. She does not find that rope, though of course locates the tackle box-shaped first aid kit. It is not too cumbersome, and so she drags it to the edge of the cargo space before peering over a shoulder towards where she knew the others to have gone. Screw it— the redhead picks up the box to half perch it on her hip, using the other hand to close the van.

"Oy! I've got a kit in here, who needs cleaned up?" Dee announces this when she is almost there, taking a chance and setting it down on the hood of a bunged up sedan nearby. She will help out whoever she is able, for now. Surely Abby will too.

So many girls shrieking orders at him that, through some coincidence, happen to conflict with each other and quarrel for superiority of logic.

There isn't enough arms on him to multi-task to the lady that Abigail pointed out among other things, so he winds up making the most of his popular capacity to fetch and carry with an older lady who'd been a few yards down the pinched walkway between seat rows, having incurred some nasty, osteoperotic pelvic bruise or fracture and a waddle to match, one arm under her liverspotted knees, another around her thick waist, his ear full of her sticky groans. Apparently, the fine iconographed sign stating 'Please give these seats up to the elderly' only confers so much benefit.

It's louder outside, but somehow, it had sounded more like Hell with the groaning and whinging of metal parts and tortured tires within the bus. Teo alights with his armload of elderly, muttering something approximately reassuring. "I think she actually needs to go to the hospital," he says. "Teo," is his automatic answer for Silver, quick, before he's glancing over the others, tracking the origins of Abigail's complaining-voice, Catherine's, or that zone of brusque, acerbic practicality that would be Hana even if she just dragged herself out of the squealing wreck that hearkens back to the childhood trauma that had changed her life decades ago.

With no rope or substitutes provided and thankfully proving not needed, Cat adapts herself to another purpose. That of assisting people from the vehicle when they're brought to the exit point and guiding them to sit and rest so they can be looked over by Abby and others.

Once all are out, she busies herself with seeking to sort people according to severity of injuries so the most in need can be dealt with first. Some familiar faces don't draw much reaction, it's all business for Abby and the Israeli technopath. But one attorney causes her to double-take. "Silver? What the hell are you doing on a bus?"

With no rope or substitutes provided and thankfully proving not needed, Cat adapts herself to another purpose. That of assisting people from the vehicle when they're brought to the exit point and guiding them to sit and rest so they can be looked over by Abby and others.

Once all are out, she busies herself with seeking to sort people according to severity of injuries so the most in need can be dealt with first. Some familiar faces don't draw much reaction, it's all business for Abby and the Israeli technopath. But one attorney causes her to double-take. "Silver? What the hell are you doing on a bus?"

Stepping out of the bus, last but surely not least, Hana looks over in time to catch Silver's self-introduction to Abby. "Hana," she offers, not quite uninvited. She hovers there for a moment, masking momentary uncertainty beneath a study of the people and an ear turned towards the sirens in the distance — heading here or to any of the myriad other places suffering from chaos and destruction, not even she can tell. Curling her fingers over her own shoulders, the Israeli turns away, walks towards the rail where it remains intact — where she can look, through slitted eyes, at the empty car suspended over empty air.

The young woman hasn't really let go of her arm if she can help it, she hasn't really said anything to Abby, more concerned with getting out of the bus and to safety. Once out she moves towards a patch of freed up curb, Kaylee sits down heavily giving a small hiss of pain, her arm finally starting to protest it's treatment. She slowly stretches out her legs to look at them, the pant legs on the side that was pin is torn, but not all that bloody… small relief.

Only then does she really allow herself to look at the bloody mess that is her arm, she can follow the little droplet trail back the way she came. Just great. She can see the split above where her red hand grips it. Just that little bit she can tell she needs stitches, fearing looking at the rest of it or even letting go. So she sits there clasping that arm watching the rest.

Cat's distracting Silver, but that's fine in Abby's books. There's some people who look visibly hurt. "Teo, check on Hana." Because something seems off about the other woman. One of the men on the bus drops her bag near her, an offer to help where needed. She hands him gauze, pair of gloves, pointing to the left. "Start passing it out to people who are cut, pressure on anythign bleeding. If someone looks back, let me know so I can tell the paramedics when they get here"

A hand comes to her forehead, looking around, eye's landing on Kaylee and in turn, Delilah. "Del! Del, take that kit to Kaylee, her arm was bleeding fierce, gets lots of gauze on it okay? I need to go look at this elderly woman. Uhmm, Cat, take care of Silver, or the same thing, just figure out who's worse than small cuts and bruises, if someone's neck really hurts, have them stay still…" She digs out a couple sharpies, tossing them to Cat and a couple others. "X's on the back of people's palms who need an ambulance right away!"

Delilah has already spotted Kaylee and her bloody fistful, taking up the case again and depositing herself in the middle of things. Anyone that wants to help by taking hold of some supplies is free to, however Dee concentrates on wrangling Kaylee. "Hey, Kay— let's get you cleaned up, okay? I can't stitch you, but we can stop it up." The redhead sets herself and the kit down in front of Kaylee, and it is noticeable that she only has one shoe. She does not seem to notice— her other is a flat.

Gauze and padding is produced almost liberally. "What a day, huh?"

Is that a relative scale of urgency? One would suppose all things are relative on scales of urgency. Teo hesitates for a moment, then sets the woman down near the nearest person with a marker. Her legs flopped out and white running shoes in an ungainly sprawl on the tarmac. "This one," he calls out, motioning for the ink. He backs off, gets out of the way as civilians come thronging in with First Aid kits. Bandages. Pregnant bellies— and Delilah draws a sharp glance, and then those around her a sharper one, but she's in no danger.

Where disaster so often reduces New Yorkers to scrabbling, backbiting competitors willing to step on any part of each other to get ahead or get away, this event seems different in a way that Teodoro is ill-equipped to comprehend or comment on. He doesn't come close enough to be able to tell there's anything more to the murmurings, the questions about 'what did you see?', the slow-dawning realizations, than simple creature comfort. He acknowledges Abigail with a nod, and turns, starts to lope toward the Israeli woman whose solitary figure stands stark on the periphery of the bridge.

There's a nod to Abby's introduction as well as Teo and Hana's, then of course the familiar voice is heard as Silver's hand goes to the back of his neck as he sees Cat and he gives her a sheepish grin. "Some speedster crunched my car. Waiting for it to get repaired." He's already moving towards someone sitting on the ground and crouching down and making sure they're okay. Something to keep his mind from reliving the vision that occured moments earlier. It may seem odd, but to him, he's trying to hold it together.

He's taken some gauze and wraps an ankle after carefully removing someone's shoe and sock, "Not entirely sure what happened here. One moment I was talking with.." He glances up and points to Kaylee, "Her over there. And the next thing I know I'm practically on top of her and the bus is all fucked up. And we're trying to keep the damn thing from going over the side of the bridge." Nope. No dream here. Nuh uh. "What are you doing over here? Seems like you know a few of these folks here," to Cat. His head suddenly turns at the talk of 'what did you see', though his neck bites him in protest and his hand moves back up there.

"A speedster? What looks worse, Road Runner or car?" Instructions from Abby aren't needed, Cat has been and is doing just that. Triage, separating people by urgency of need. The sharpie is taken just the same, as a recognized code for who fits what category is a good thing. Kaylee is briefly eyed, if no one comes forward soon to sew the wound shut she'll do so. It's not a difficult task, unless the wound is abdominal. "I do," she confirms for the benefit of Silver when asked. "I get around." Inquisitiveness settles in as she picks up bits and pieces of conversations about the happening. "This is a massive pileup. What happened, someone fell asleep at the wheel?"

The man's neck discomfort catches her attention, she eyes the area. "Stiff and sore? You're moving and talking, doesn't seem to be anything threatening the spinal cord. But I still recommend being careful until pros check you out with an MRI."

Looking up at Delilah as she comes into view, Kaylee gives her a lopsided grin. "Hey, Dee. Didn't see you on the bus." Hazarding a look at the arm, she swallows and licks her lips nervously. "I — ah — I'm afraid to let go." The young woman looks a bit sheepish as she admits that.

She focuses solely on Dee as she says. "This is gonna look gross." Then slowly she starts letting go of the cut, closing her eyes and grimacing as she can feel the edges pull apart to open up to the air, fresh blood oozing from the wound. She's not looking, it's one thing on another person.. it's another when it's yourself. "Bad?" She asks hesitantly, cracking open an eye to look at Dee. "I felt it happen when I pulled my arm out."

Delilah visibly winces, immediately and gently putting the padding up to reclose the cut and put pressure to it. If anything, she is not too squeamish. "It's gonna need some good stitches, we'll tie you up for now, okay? Bear with me." She smiles, hands firm as she plugs up the wound first. "'S just a flesh wound." Only Kaylee still has all of her arms and legs!

"I was with Teo in a van back there— we hit one of the columns— thank god for automatic lock seatbelts, right?"

There's a smirk that crosses Silver's face, though Cat should know him well enough to see through the falseness of it. "Believe it or not, my car. The price was fairly high, though she did come back and paid me in cash for the damage. I should have charged her more if I'd known it'd come to this." He tilts his head a little as if testing out the muscle. "I think I pulled something. I'll be grand in a few days, I'm sure." Clearly there's something off with him at the moment though. "Have you noticed if there's anything else going on?"

Not seeming convinced, she eyes the neck a bit more carefully, chancing fingers which extend to touch vertebrae and verify their positions. "Might be, Silver, might not. But get that MRI anyway." That done, or blocked in the attempt, she turns attention to other people nearby to mark locations. Delilah. Teo. Hana. Abby. Kaylee. The nearest one of those is asked "How'd this start?"

Silver's question gets a broad reply. "I hear sirens, and see a lot of cars crashed here. Sounds like emergency responders are having a really busy day."

"Joy…" Kaylee says rather blandly, eyes opening. "Just what I need since I'm working on moving." She huffs softly, glancing at Delilah and then — down. After a moment, the telepath offer up, "Baby seems fine." If Dee didn't know what she was that might have sounded odd. "I mean from what I can tell… he's still there." Or as there as a fetus can be.

The question from Cat, pulls Kaylee's attention away from what Dee is doing. "I… don't know? One minute I was talking to… Him." She points a blood covered, hand at Silver. "The next I wake up and we're like that." her hand sweeps over at the bus.

Abigail's busy, no time to stand and discuss what happened, flitting from person to person, checkign vitals, applying gauze, buddying accident victims together so either can keep an eye on the other. A woman in the car who's pinned, will be remaining there, but it looks like they'll just need to use a little force. The pink hair bobs here and there, making her way further from those she knows and helping strangers, confidant that her friends will all look out for each other and ignoring the ache in her own neck.

Delilah leans in towards Kaylee, eyebrows knitting and her expression more serious. For now she keeps pressure on the wound, one hand holding onto a roll of gauze. "I saw something before I woke up. I thought it was real- it was so real." She does not say what, voice at a hush. "What if something caused this?"

Plain paranoia in the aftermath of this winter is fashionable, and this time- not an overstatement.

Feeling just a tad doted on, he allows Cat to check out his neck without too much fuss, maybe a dramatic sigh, he helps the person he's attending to put back on their sock over the ace bandage. Silver glances up as Kaylee confirms his version of the story to Cat. At least he's certain he's not losing his mind, until Delilah speaks up. Gingerly, he turns his neck towards her and anyone looking could see his jaw clenching tight as he grinds his teeth and slowly gets to his feet and looks around for someone else to help.

He saw something alright. And it appears, so did alot of these folks out here. He clenches his fist for a moment before he offers a false smile to another woman who seems to be okay. The emergency vehicles seem to be arriving, pulling in and taking over.. much to his relief.

She's curious, Cat's eyes swiveling over to settle on Delilah as she speaks of having seen something, which dovetails with other snippets overheard here and there around them. Others are glanced at, she sees the signs of having experienced… something in others who won't speak as well but returns to the British redhead because she did speak up.

"Mass sleeping, and you saw something? What did you see?" She had no such experience, so part of her attention is on whatever it might be while she continues to perform triage. One by one, people who seem to need it are attended to and marked for easier progress when and if responders arrive.

Her head snaps around to look at Delilah, she leans a bit closer as well, "You… saw something?" Her brows furrow slightly in thought, her eyes dropping away as she thinks back. "So did I. It's all blurry… and…." she was in really bad shape, but she doesn't say that.

Eyes lift back up to her red-headed friend. "You.. think so? That something…" Kaylee trails off, eyes widening a bit, the blood draining from her face some. "God… I hope it's not real." The words so soft that only Dee might hear them.

Cat's question is sort of abrupt, and leaves Dee with little choice but to look between them and off towards where Abby went, vaguely hopeful. "I- well. I had the baby on the floor of a store. Abby was there- the ambulance had crashed." Dee glances sheepishly down at her hands as they work to try and fit the gauze onto Kaylee's arm.

Silver is close enough to still hear the conversation and as he finishes his assistance, he can stand it no more. He turns to the trio and shakes his head. "Don't put any stock in any of this being true. Trust me. I know what I saw could never come true." There's a pained expression that crosses his face as he finally turns to face Cat, "I.. I'll see you later." With that, he marches off, moving further off to see what else he can do, away from talks of dreams and the possibility of it being real.

She is pensive as Delilah speaks of her experience and Kaylee goes pale. Eyes track over to Silver when he speaks, Cat barely having time to quickly speak of their arrangement to meet for lunch and seek to confirm it before he's out of earshot. This is all very odd, and sparks several questions. One of them is why didn't she have such an experience. Brows furrow with the ponderance, gaze settling on Dee again. "You gave birth, that should be November sometime." Moments later, voice is given to a possibility. "Mass precognitive visions, without a precog being nearby or even touching?"

Kaylee doesn't really respond to what Cat says at first, though she glances sideways at Dee. "Really?" Brows lifting a bit. "Huh…"

"Excuse me… I'll get that." A paramedic offers as she steps up to where Kaylee and Dee are, his medical bag on his shoulder. He crouches down near them, sliding the pack off his shoulder and moving to relieve Delilah. "Let me see what we got here."

Kaylee glances at Delilah, giving her a small smile. "Thanks.. you know for." Her eyes drop to her arm. "Now go get check out." Her eyes flick to the paramedic. "Just in case, so that if that was a true vision… you get it."

She's quiet for a prolonged stretch of seconds after Kaylee speaks, glancing briefly at the paramedic now with Kaylee and others who are taking over. Cat's gaze settles on some distant point, the brows are deeply furrowed. Dreamwalking? But that would probably take someone else in the mix able to cause sleep on such a scale. Precognition? Possibly. More likely, at that. But who? She only knows one person who was able to grant visions in others, but only one at a time and through direct contact. It's someone she hasn't seen in weeks. Is he okay?

"Kaylee, Delilah… I'll catch up later. Maybe I'll come check out your new apartment." And she's moving away, back in the direction she came from.

Cat has a pastor to find.

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