Rudy’s Bus Stop
Jonathan Kuntz
Rudy was beginning to regain consciousness. He waited fearfully to find out if the searing pain would return. It did not. He opened his eyes and saw a small group of people standing over him, while staring down to the curb where he was lying. He knew none of them. They were all talking loudly, while making hand and arm motions to accent their speech. Rudy understood none of it.
He was remembering some things now. It’s Springtime in New York City: balmy breezes, a light sprinkle of rain, and flowers along the avenues. The flowers weren’t on bushes, they were part of sidewalk sales, but their beauty and scents were real. What was he doing here, and why were these people above him being so animated?
He remembered, he needed to get a particular bus, and he was almost to the bus stop when he spied it approaching. Rudy was on the wrong side of the street. He ran through six congested lanes of traffic and made it ahead of the bus, almost! His foot went through the broken lid of a manhole cover. It had a 13" hole gaping hole in it’s rusty lid, and it was holding Rudy’s foot. He tried and tried to free it. The bus was now coming his way, and the driver wasn’t even trying to avoid him. He thought, “The driver doesn’t see me, and I can’t bend my legs, unless I can turn on my back.” Rudy tried his best to flip over. It didn’t work. The right front wheel of the bus went over his legs, and as fate would have it, he was rolled by the bus tire and came to rest on his back.
Rudy could remember a tremendous amount of pain. He wasn’t aware that he was screaming, but he heard screams as he passed out.
“What are these people doing? Why are they staring at me? Why are they rambling on? Don’t they have somewhere to go, or something to do?” Rudy’s mind was active with questions, but he wasn’t getting answers. Maybe if he caught just one person’s attention, he could get some answers. He was unable to do that.
Rudy became aware of his position. The middle of his spine was on the top corner of the street curbing, about 5" above the street level. He could feel the pressure point. What annoyed him more, was the angle at which he had to hold his head and neck. If he relaxed, his crown would rest on the sidewalk. In that position, about all he could see was knee level of the crowd around him. He much preferred to hold his head off the sidewalk.
Looking down across his abdomen, he saw his body come to an abrupt end where the rear, dually wheels of the bus were resting on him. The lower part of his body was as flat as a ribbon.
Rudy thought it strange that there was very little blood. Even more strange was the lack of pain. He was probably better off if the wheels stayed on him. Then again, he wasn’t going to go about with a bus on him. At last he understood the crowd of people, sort of. He was the unwitting, main attraction.
Rudy continued to assess his situation. Both of his hands and arms were fully functional. He was getting a crimp in his neck from holding his head off the payment. His heartbeat seemed steady, and he was breathing ok. He thought his first job would be to get the attention of one of these sidewalk gawkers, hopefully to get some help. It hurt if he yelled, so he reached for the pants of an elderly man and started tugging on the cuffs.
The old man jerked his head down and saw Rudy’s stare. “Hi there little fella. How ya doin’?”
“God!” Thought Rudy. “How can he ask me a question like that? How do I answer a question like that?”
“You ever have all your blood changed out? I did. In October of ‘98, that’s when. No, it was August, because it was so darn hot. They took me to the hospital in an ambulance where the air conditioner wasn’t working. Then this group of medical people were standing around my bed talking about me, as if I wasn’t there. That’s when they hooked me up to some machine and started to switch out my blood. You ever hear of that? The replacement blood was burning the inside of my vessels like you couldn’t believe. Eventually, I got a pain pill. It turned out...”
The old man was abruptly interrupted when a rather large woman burst into the ring of spectators. She was wearing a two piece, beige business suit in a tweed. Her hair was done in a large puff-ball; colored platinum. Accompanying her was a small poodle, also sporting round puff-balls on each leg, the tail, hips and head. The poodle’s hair was the same color as the woman’s.
She started to speak right away, squelching the old man. She looked down at Rudy, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, young man, but you’re blocking the entire sidewalk, and Betsy and I can’t get through. We walk by here everyday. Betsy likes routine, and you are upsetting her.”
Rudy couldn’t get a word in. The lady was rambling on, oblivious to anyone else, not caring if she had listeners. Rudy saw the poodle lapping up some of his blood from the street. He thought, “This is going to send her ballistic.”
Rudy was pointing, trying to get her attention to the dog, which he eventually did. She saw her dog and let out a yell that sounded like a giant cork being “popped” out of a champagne bottle combined with a sonic boom. She waddled over to the poodle and scooped it up with a practiced hand. “You’re a bad girl. You’re not Mummy’s friend, today. Look at this, all over your mouth and chin, you look like some kind of wild animal. No more walk, you’re going straight home and get your face cleaned.” She disappeared into the crowd with her dog hanging over her arm, so it wouldn’t get blood on “Mummy’s” clothing.
Rudy could see the crowd was getting bigger all the time. Suddenly, a man crouched down beside him, and began shaking his hand, almost violently. He had blond hair which was cut short, a flattop. Rudy could tell the guy must be rich, because he was wearing a very expensive suit of shark skin. But, the immediate problem for Rudy was to get the guy to stop pumping his arm. It was beginning to hurt.
He started shouting in Rudy’s ear, “Hey, you got a good case here. I could get you millions for this. Here, I’m putting my card in your pocket. It’s Simonson and Simonson, Attorneys at Law. There isn’t really another Simonson, but don’t you think it sounds better this way? Listen, you really need to call me as soon as you can. Don’t lose my card. This is going to be big money for you kid.”
A woman was leaning over the lawyer. She was showing Rudy a very expensive watch she just received as a present from her company for twenty-five years of service.
A kid came up with a big, “slop-dog”, which started licking Rudy’s face with a tongue the size of an aircraft carrier. Rudy wanted to fend off the dog, but he didn’t have the strength.
A middle-aged man, leaning over the dog, was thrusting a business card at Rudy. “Hey kid, this is your lucky day. I’m going to promote you to the hilt. I’m Sam Seitweiler. It says so, right here on this card. Son, I’m the biggest promoter New York has ever seen, and it’s seen some big ones. P.T. Barnum comes to mind. I’m gonna’ get you a cool million our first year together. You’ll be on talk shows, in advertising; maybe even a movie, or two.”
The pressure of the crowd was slowly moving Sam Seitweiler away from Rudy’s view. Rudy could hear him talking while he was being shuffled along in the crowd. Sam was still pitching.
At long last, two EMT’s showed up and sat down beside him on the curb. One of them spoke, “How’re ya doing buddy? Got yourself into a situation here, I see.” Rudy just nodded. “I’m afraid we got some bad news for ya. The hospital told us not to do anything. The ER doctor said you’re ‘triaged’ out of the system.”
Rudy gave a visible start when he heard that. “What does that mean?”
The EMT picked right up with an explanation. “Oh, that means they don’t do nothing, because you’re too far gone, know what I mean?”
Rudy didn’t reply to the EMT. He thought, “I’m going to die anyway, so they’re not going to treat me.” He was imagining what it meant, for the last Titanic survivor to slip getting out of the lifeboat, fall, and break his neck. That’s what he felt like, although he didn’t know if such a thing happened.
Eventually, the two EMTs wandered off into the crowd. Their place on the curb was immediately taken. She was a fair looking woman with a musing look to her. It was as if she were showing half grin and half grim. Said she was a nurse. She wanted to know if she could do anything for Rudy. After he explained the problems he was having, she gave him a pat on the arm and left. To Rudy’s delight, she wasn’t gone long. She returned with treasures; treasures to Rudy. She had a pillow for his head, a folded blanket for his tortured back, another blanket to keep him warm, and a large bottle of drinking water. She arranged everything so Rudy would be comfortable, then she departed. Rudy thought she must be an angel.
It was starting to get dark, and with it, the damp chill of the street settled in. Rudy couldn’t know, but he sensed that the crowd was growing ever larger. More and more people looked down at him and wanted to know what happened. He couldn’t answer everybodys’ questions, he was too weak.
A middle-aged woman poked her head through the crowd to inquire also. She had mouse-brown hair trying to look blond, in a perm. She was wearing a gray skirt with a fuchsia blouse. She applied lipstick very lavishly, a Corvette red, and she didn’t ‘stay within the lines.’ Her mascara was so thick, she gave the impression of a raccoon. She wanted to know what happened.
“What’s your name?” Rudy asked.
“Dorry. What’s yours?”
She had the very thick, nasal quality of speech that New Yorkers value. Rudy figured she worked in an office.
“My name’s Rudy” he replied. “Tell me, are you a secretary?”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Rudy. Yea, I’m a secretary. Why do you wanna know?”
“Well, Dorry, you can be my secretary. I mean right here on the sidewalk. All these people ask me what happened, and I can’t be repeating the story again and again. I’ll have you tell them. What do you think of that? Can you do that?”
“Well, yea, sure Rudy, if that’s what you want. Only thing is you gotta tell me what happened.”
Rudy explained the whole incident to Dorry and carefully answered her questions. He wondered how large the crowd had grown, because the background humdrum was getting ever louder.
Suddenly, he was blinded by some very large and bright lights. In an instant, he could feel the heat from them. A woman looked down at him. Her hair must have been varnished, because not one strand moved with the breeze nor became a slave to gravity. The face also looked trapped in plastic. There was not a line, crease or pore showing. She wore a very conservative woman’s business suit, in gray. Rudy thought there were shoulder pads in the jacket.
“Hi! I’m Susie Whittler, from WNYC 7, your local news station. How long have you been lying here like this? What happened to you? I know our viewers would love to know.”
Rudy didn’t even try to answer her. Instead, he called Dorry over. “Dorry,” he said, “Answer this woman’s questions, please. She wants to know what happened.”
Dorry was hesitant. “You want me to tell the news lady what happened? OK...! Ah, tell me again, what is it I’m supposed to say?”
Rudy was thinking, “Say ‘goodnight’ Dorry.”
Rudy was trying to talk to the newswoman, but someone else was wiping his face and putting makeup on him. “God.” Thought Rudy, “What’s next?” He didn’t have long to wait for an answer.
There was a growing crowd of people on top of the bus. They were taking his picture with flash cameras. Others had gone inside the bus, and having removed or opened windows, were also taking pictures of him. Some teen aged boys climbed on top of the bus and were intentionally jumping to intensify the motion. All the moving around was causing the bus to rock. Rudy could feel these movements of the bus as sharp bursts of pain going up his spine.
Darkness came upon the City, respecting no one. Even so, Rudy had a sense the crowd was still growing. He felt very tired. If only, he could get rid of the TV lights and flash cameras.
His arms were slowly losing their feeling. Somebody came and hooked an IV to him. It was supposed to give him nourishment. He gave himself a modicum of comfort by thinking of the green forests of his Pennsylvania home. He wondered if his family knew what happened to him. They were against his coming to the City, but he explained it was the best place to get a residency in architecture.
All night long news reports kept updating Rudy’s plight. It wasn’t long before national and international news teams were covering the scene. Shortly before midnight, the mayor’s office was notified of the immense crowd gathering in Manhattan. The governor ordered National Guard call-ups for crowd control. The island was barricaded against any traffic trying to enter.
An estimated 250,000 people were expected on the island by morning unless the authorities could make some containment. The sky above wasn’t exempt from congestion. Helicopters of the local news stations, combined with those of the national news companies, the Metropolitan Police choppers and assorted military craft were sharing airspace originally intended for a couple of pigeons.
Rudy was getting weaker by the hour. He didn’t think he had much time left so he was ready to give up his life, the way desperate people often do, to escape the pain. He tried to signal to the boys on top of the bus, but it only caused them to laugh and jump even harder. He had long noticed the diesel fuel under the bus slowly trickling toward the gutter about his waist level.
Rudy got the attention of one of the spectators and asked him for a cigarette. That was proffered with a lighter. Rudy lighted the cigarette and inhaled on it, then reached down to the gutter and struck the lighter once more. The fuel caught although it wasn’t a high flame, still Rudy noticed the fire carried by the fuel, was flowing under a car immediately in front of the bus. When the car’s gas tank exploded, everyone panicked. There were pieces of the car falling out of the air, some of it burning. Rudy noticed the boys on top of the bus were scrambling to get down. Some of their clothing was on fire. Then the gas tank on another car, on the other side of the bus exploded and engulfed the under side of the bus and Rudy. Nobody heard Rudy’s last words, but one would think he was glad to have it end.
