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adside by a truck hauling fertilizer。 The truck slammed the bus into a bridge abutment at better than sixty miles an hour； crushed it against the concrete； and broke it in half。 Two shiny； rain…streaked pieces spun in two opposite directions； the one with the diesel tank in it exploding and sending a red…black fireball up into the rainygray sky。 At one moment Janice was plaining about her old Kodak； and at the very next I found myself lying on the far side of the underpass in the rain and staring at a pair of blue nylon panties that had spilled out of someone's suitcase。 WEDNESDAY was stitched on them in black thread。 There were burst…open suitcases everywhere。 And bodies。 And parts of bodies。 There were seventy…three people on that bus； and only four survived the crash。 I was one of them； the only one not seriously hurt。
I got up and staggered among the burst…open suitcases and shattered people； crying out my wife's name。 I kicked aside an alarm clock； I remember that； and I remember seeing a dead boy of about thirteen lying in a strew of glass with P。F。 Flyers on his feet and half his face gone。 I felt the rain beating on my own face； then I went through the underpass and it was gone for awhile。 When I came out on the other side it was there again； hammering my cheeks and forehead。 Lying by the shattered cab of the overturned fertilizer truck； I saw Jan。 I recognized her by her red dress … it was her second…best。 The best she had been saving for the actual graduation
