Twenty-five years
a witness.
We clear the exit of the tunnel. The back end of the bus is still within the overhang of the exit structure. An EXTREMELY loud sound, like a jet that is too close to the ground, is going over the top of the bus. My blood is now ice water.
That account went online the next day and overwhelmed its server within hours. The page remains here unchanged, word for word and frame for frame. The rest of this site is what that morning left behind: a habit of paying attention, a practical interest in preparedness, and careful notes on the tools that earn their place.