Sven looked up, his vision beginning to clear. He heard a ringing in his ears, but felt a warm touch on his face.
"Come on, come on, try to wake up," he could hear the woman looking at him.
She helped him to his feet, putting her arm around his shoulder. He looked toward the demonic truck; someone was holding him. The man was tall, not a giant or a hulking monster. His yellow shirt fit tightly over his muscular arms. His cheap shoes dug into the road, forming indentations. Surprisingly, he held the truck's shovel with his bare hands, hands that were uncut.
"We have to move now," the woman said.
The woman was strong, not superhuman, but her voice had that strange mix of compassion and authority. Whatever she said, when the situation called for it, was what one needed to hear. Her partner pushed the truck, lifting the shovel, and then lunged. Digging his fingernails under the truck, he flipped it over with a burst of incredible strength. He dusted his hands and huffed. Suddenly, a wrecking ball slammed into his side, throwing him across the street.
"No," Sven whispered.
"Don't worry, Luke can handle it," the woman said.
She led Sven toward one of the alleys, showing no fear as the second wrecking truck swung its wrecking ball toward them. Sven's vision blurred slightly as a short man in a green button-down shirt stepped into his path. The man adjusted a brown cloth over his head, the ends of which billowed like a martial arts headband. He clasped his hands and bowed as the wrecking ball approached. Then, with a flash of speed, he slammed his fist into the ball. Yellow energy flowed down the wire, straight toward the wrecking truck.
A terrifying scream echoed in the sky, matching the demonic truck's expression. It was as if a second great cataclysm were occurring on the street; a strong wind blew only in that area. The temperature dropped and rose, and a shock wave nearly knocked Sven and those helping him off balance. Something rose from the truck, like a dense fog, in the shape of a man in immense agony. The woman leaned Sven against the wall, examining the cut on his forehead.
"Whatever hit you and knocked you out, you should go to the hospital," he told her.
"I'm fine, thanks for helping me," Sven said.
"I'd take Claire's advice, kiddo," Luke said, coming into view.
"Wow, you got sent flying by a wrecking ball, you must have some serious skin," Sven's hurt tone had been replaced by a look of astonishment.
"Oh, you have no idea," said the masked man, walking to Luke's side.
"Anyway, thanks for the help, I'm going now," Sven said, shaking his head as his vision blurred.
"Not so fast, you need to rest and take it easy, wait for the ambulance," Claire said.
"Ambulances, oh no, the others," Sven gasped.
"They're already dead," Luke said.
Sven leaned against the wall, dragging his feet toward the street. He looked at them, at all those crushed by the demonic truck. There were still people nursing their wounds, people calling for help. His hand shook with fear, wondering if it was his fault, if it had happened because he rummaged through things. He looked at the building he'd come from, which had been reduced to rubble. Whatever the demon was, its goal had been to destroy the evidence; its life was secondary. Everyone else had simply been caught in the crossfire.
"No," he whispered.
"What happened here?" Luke asked.
"I just wanted answers," Sven said.
Luke put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. Sven noticed his eyes were judging him seriously. He was already blaming him, even if he didn't mean it. The man's friend, however, was already helping people, moving those he could to the sidewalk and checking on the others.
"Do you know anything about first aid?" Claire asked.
"CPR, recovery position, what to do when someone is choking," Sven listed.
The boy continued talking as if he was in shock.
"Okay," Claire took him by the shoulder and led him outside. "You can help me. Do you know where that thing came from?"
"No," said Sven.
"So that's all you'll have to tell the police if they ask: just come with me and do what I say. We're going to help these people," Claire explained.
Luke and his friend were on duty, helping others remove debris and transporting the injured. To the paramedics' credit, they didn't take long to respond. Claire and Sven didn't even have to do much for the people. Watching the police and paramedics at work reminded Sven of the cataclysm and its aftermath. Although these events were very different, the authorities' response had been instant and inspiring. People helped each other, and the paramedics were excellent at their jobs. Luke, his friend, and Claire turned out to be ordinary people just passing by. Once they had a moment, they managed to escape the inevitable television crews. Before that, however, Sven saw a detective and a reporter. She was probably a girl from Harlem.