Excerpt
Paul Goblirsch, H Michael Casper, and Mark Sylva—from Arizona, Minnesota, and Ohio, respectively, and the friends of Chris Hansen and Leigh Haig, who were seated at the front of the bus—had no idea anything was wrong until the bus crashed and the screams began.
And by then, it was too late.
Paul was thrown forward into the aisle as the vehicle slammed into what felt like a brick wall.
He wondered if they'd hit a tractor trailer or something. Then he was sliding up the aisle, and the rough, porous, black surface scraped the skin off his outstretched palms and the side of his face. He howled in pain.
The bus flipped over on its side, tossing passengers and luggage like they were rag dolls. The people's screams turned to shrieks.
Wailing, H was smashed against the window. He heard the glass shatter, but couldn't tell if it was broken or not, because his vision blurred from pain and shock. He tasted blood in his mouth, and the side of his head felt warm and wet. Then his vision blurred.
Mark was tossed forward, as well, but instead of sliding down the aisle like Paul had done, he landed on another passenger, a younger man with long hair who seemed terrified and bewildered.
"Sorry …" Mark winced. "Are you okay, pal?"
"It was the dinosaur," the man gasped. "We must have hit it."
Then the younger man passed out.
Mark slowly clambered to his feet as the shuttle rocked back and forth. His jaw hurt, and when he probed his teeth experimentally with his tongue, he discovered that one of them was loose.
Then he looked up, saw what was outside, and joined in the screaming.