It was nearing six o'clock, which meant both the streets and the sidewalks were clogged with people trying to get home before everyone else. It was annoyed to be elbowed past, but Noah was used to it. He'd lived in the city long enough to ignore the crowds as they formed and broke around him, like so many waves crashing onto a beach. He just kept walking, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a cigarette to his mouth. He was caught up thinking about the girls and Robin, what they would have for dinner, what stories he would tell them when he got home, and how his day had gone. Today had been especially mundane. Nothing had gone wrong. Nor did anything exciting happen. - Either way, Noah was looking forward to being home.
He'd hopped off the subway early today, choosing instead to hoof it for a bit while the sun was still shining. (Not that Noah loved the sun. Don't get any ideas. He just felt like walking outside, rather than sitting cramped, underground in the dark, with some stranger drooling on him.) Idly, he waited with a large group at the crosswalk. It was loud. Most of those surrounding him were on their phones, everyone caught up in their own little universe. "He didn't," one woman exclaimed in exaggerated disbelief to his left. A man looked at his watch. Noah just observed until the signal across the street told them they could walk.
Being one of the first people to touch the pavement, there was a moment where everything seemed normal, he was simply crossing the street, going home - until somewhere people behind him started yelling, then ahead to the right a horn began blaring. A car - looking much like the one Noah had one the island, he thought stupidly - was barreling toward the pedestrians. Everyone began to scramble out of the way like ants under the shadow of an angry toddler. The car was swerving, obviously out of control. Quickly, Noah began to work.
There was something about emergency situations that put him at ease, so to speak. He felt as if he was watching the scene from somewhere above and felt nothing but cool and collected, because he knew what he had to do. (In reality, in his body, his heart was racing faster than the car came toward them, but he never felt it. And if he had time to stop and think, he would feel the fear settling into his stomach, and the bile creeping up his throat.) Slamming into the people ahead of him, Noah pushed them, stumbling, toward the curb opposite. They'd probably hurt each other falling, but it was better than being hit by a car. He frowned. No one was moving fast enough. The people on the ground scrambled off the road. Then, as Noah was turning to usher stragglers back, the car closed in.
It didn't hit him. Not really. Seeing something flash out of the corner of his eye, Noah had instinctively jumped back a good foot or so - but the thing did run over his left foot. It went by him, missing his body by inches. He was pushed to the pavement by the force of the vehicle, scraping and possibly breaking one of his elbows. He could feel the blood running down his arm, warm and wet. More people were screaming, Noah realized, the sound in his ears having gone muffled for a second. The car continued flying through the intersection, only to be hit by someone who hadn't been paying attention. There was a very loud sound of metal crunching and folding in on itself. Windows shattered, glass sprayed the pavement. Then, save for the sounds of people, it went quiet.