Mass Transit Messiah - Chapter 1

         Walking towards the back of the bus, Benny was distracted.  There was a Patel sitting halfway down the aisle.  The bus was fairly empty, so he took a seat behind and to the left of the foreigner, not wanting to be in his line of sight.  He knew if he had been, the trip would be miserable, because those people always made him uncomfortable.  Their unabashed stares, their thin, pubescent mustaches, their thick, black hair and dark brown skin, and their smug arrogance made him twinge with discomfort.
         “Patel” was Benny’s nickname for Indians.  “Not the Indians with the feather, the Indians with the dot,” as he would put it.  It was his own private derogatory term for them, though he would never tell that to anyone else. 
         Benny would never admit that he was racist, and no one would ever accuse him of it.  After all, he was one of the friendliest people you could ever meet, no matter what color you were.  In his job, dealing as he did with so many different kinds of people, you had to be a diplomat.  You had to treat everyone with respect, listen to them when they spoke, and help them feel better about themselves.  Benny was a salesman.  He sold computers at a small, privately owned tech shop called Wired World.
         That aside, there was still that one group of people he could not stand.  He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but he knew it had a lot to do with their apparent national attitude in general.  They seemed to him rude, selfish, cheap, and ignorant.  Whenever he tried to explain why the more expensive model would benefit them, they would disregard his advice and buy the cheaper model.  They didn’t seem to care that he knew so much about computers, and it irked him when they forgot that HE was the salesman, the expert, the one who THEY should trust.  He really thought he had their best interest in mind.
         Another thing that helped cement his dislike for their people was their absolute disinterest in troubleshooting.  If their computer wasn’t working, they would bring it back and ask for a replacement, never willing to admit that they didn’t know how to use it or that they might be at fault for the error messages they were receiving.  After 45 minutes of trying to explain to one Patel that photo quality printing used more ink and required better paper, he gave up and refunded the money.  He was expecting that the customer would return a month or so later apologizing, having had the same problem with two or more other computers.  He had always kind of expected that, and the fact that it never came true helped establish his dislike. 
         Now he passively refused to help any Patel in the selection, maintenance, or return of merchandise.  Instead, he would practice aggressive customer service to anyone not from the eastern side of the world.  Even if he was the only salesman in the store at the time, he would spend excessive time with black, white, or Hispanic people who obviously had no real interest in buying anything.
         
         All of this came to mind as he sat staring at this particular Indian with cautious intensity.  He expected that if he were able to watch him without being noticed, he would see him staring arrogantly at the rest of the passengers on the bus. 
         He began to play out a scene in his mind that involved the Patel coming into his store, asking questions about a lower priced model, taking up all of his time, while the other salespeople worked with rich, white clients who bought 25” flat-screen monitors and extended warranties.  The scene continued with Benny smashing him over the head with an elite notebook computer, only to take the money out of his wallet to pay for it while he lay unconscious in the middle of the salesfloor. 
         His daydream ended abruptly with the sound of screeching tires.  The bus was cut off, and to avoid an accident, had swerved into the next lane over.  There was a jolt as the bus was hit by a large passenger van, and despite the driver’s attempt to regain control, physics took over, and the top-heavy public transport began to tip. 
         There was a high-pitched scream, and Benny noticed a young black girl in the middle of the aisle, scrambling to get back into the arms of her mom who was stuck by force in her seat.  Such was the scene in the entire bus.  There was no stopping it from tipping, so people were grabbing onto anything they could in preparation for impact.  But Benny was focused on this one girl, not because of her predicament, but because of the unlikely figure who had pulled her from the aisle and held her close, in a way that would prevent her from being hurt when the side of the bus hit the ground.
         It was the Patel, and as they hit, he momentarily saw him brace the young girl tighter in his arms before he himself lost consciousness.

         Benny wasn’t sure how long it was before he regained consciousness, but he was lying on a stretcher with his head strapped down, preventing him from moving.  He saw flashing lights, and heard men yelling.  There was the loud sound of metal being torn, and he assumed, correctly, that it was the Jaws of Life.  It was a long moment before he felt his hand squeezed, and he couldn’t see who was holding it.  He lifted his arm, and as his eyes adjusted to the twilight, he saw a small black hand with sloppy orange nail polish.  His own hand was covered in blood, and he guessed that the rest of his body was, as well.  He forced his head to the right, and he saw the girl’s eyes barely peering at him over the white mattress.  They were filled with tears, and as she caught him looking, she turned away.  He thought for a second that he glimpsed a shimmer of hope in her eyes.
         She was now looking to her left side, where there was another person on another stretcher.  He was surprised to see the Indian man lying unconscious, hovered over by an EMT.  The EMT was pulling small rocks and bits of glass from the side of his face, and Benny noticed the girl was holding the Patel’s hand as well.  He wondered where the girl’s mother was, and why she wasn’t with her, suddenly fearing the worst.  The man from the ambulance briefly looked at her, trying to force a smile.  He was finished with his triage work, and as soon as his eyes connected, there was an intense sadness, and tears began forming.  He was forced to look away, and his eyes landed on Benny.  He panicked, and rushed over to Benny’s head, realigning it to look up again. 
         “Sir, I need to you to stay still until we can get you to the hospital,” he said with authority.  “We have a serious accident on our hands, and I need to attend to the others.  Can you please do that for me?”  His voice trembled towards the end, and Benny shuddered.  The others?  How many people were hurt, he wondered?  The EMT rushed away, as Benny nodded in cooperation.  He quickly regretted moving his head, as it shot splinters of pain down his back.  He heard the girl crying, so he tightened his grip, hoping to provide some sort of comfort.  He doubted it would work, but a moment later she squeezed back.  It wasn’t long before he passed out again.

         He woke up to the sound of beeping, and saw soft, floral wallpaper, a TV hanging on the wall, turned off, and a cute, brown haired nurse at the end of the bed.
         “How are you feeling, Mr. Demlow?” she asked softly.
         He struggled to find his vocal chords.  “Fine,” he said, weakly.  “How is the girl?”
         “Sir, you were involved in a serious accident, with fatalities,” she said briefly.  “You suffered a major concussion, a broken arm, and serious cuts and bruises.  We have stopped the bleeding and put a cast on your arm, but we still need to run a cat scan to ensure there is no permanent damage to your brain.”
         “What about the girl and her mother?  Are they okay?”
         “Sir, I can’t answer that.  We took in twenty-eight people from this accident, most of who are in serious condition.  We’ve been running around just trying to stabilize everyone, and I don’t know how anyone is doing.  An officer will soon be in to see you, to ask you about the accident, and he may be of more help.” 
                Benny barely heard the rest of what she said.  Shocked by the number of people hurt, he started to do the math.  He guessed there were thirteen people on the bus, leaving fifteen in other vehicles, not counting fatalities.  That word stuck out at him.  Fatalities.  He remembered wondering where the girl’s mother was, and began sobbing. 

                It was two hours before the officer entered his room. 
                “Mr. Demlow, my name is Sergeant Derricks.  I need to ask you some questions.” He was in his thirties, with a slight body and greasy hair.  “What do you remember about the accident?”
                “Not much at all,” he replied.  “I was knocked unconscious.”
                “How about before the accident?  Do you remember getting on the bus?”  His straight-forwardness was a bit of a disappointment to Benny, who was expecting more compassion.
                “I think so.  I wasn’t paying much attention when I sat down.  I was distracted,” he said, recalling his thoughts about the Indian man.
                “By what?”
                “Um, I was looking at the bus schedule,” he lied, sensing the officer knew it.
                “Okay,” he said, pausing, then “What do you remember about the driver?”
                “White man, forties, balding and kind of fat.  Bad comb-over.”
                “Did he seem intoxicated at all?”
                Intoxicated?  “I didn’t notice.  Was he drunk?”
                “Standard questions, sir.”  Benny guessed this wasn’t entirely true, but said nothing.  “How about the other passengers, was there anyone suspicious or reckless on the bus?”
                “Well, th…”  He caught himself.  The man had saved the child, after all.
                “I’m sorry?”
                “Oh, nothing.  I saw some teenagers in the back, but they weren’t doing much.  Talking loud, but that’s about it.”  Sgt. Derrick eyed him suspiciously, there were no teens on the bus.  “How bad was it?”
                “Well, there were a total of nine vehicles involved, including the bus.  Eleven people died, and almost everyone else was seriously injured.  You’re pretty lucky, only four people on the bus survived.  You, another man, a little girl, and the driver, who is facing severe charges.”  His heart sank.  Her mother?  Dead?  He started crying uncontrollably.
                “You said another man, who was he?”  He asked, between tears.
                “He’s here in the room with you.  Pretty amazing, he saved that little girl.  Found her lying on top of him, completely unharmed.”  He cried harder.  “May not make it, though.  Like a lot of the others, he’s banged up pretty bad.  You’re the only one from the bus we can talk to right now.  I’ll be back later, try to remember what you saw.”  He took a minute to leave, staring quizzically at Benny. 
                When he did leave, Benny sobbed quietly until the nurse came back an hour later.  “We’re ready for your cat scan,” she said.