Jingwei enlarged the image, and Hanchuan could finally see what blocked the passengers.
Bags had been piled almost to shoulder height behind the middle seats.
Someone pushed a rigid case from the other side, lifting it enough to reveal an arm beneath it before it caught against the seat backs again.
"They can’t move it from where they are," Qinghe said. "Someone needs to pull it out from the front."
The woman carrying the shoes seemed to have realized the same thing. She ran toward the bus entrance and tried to get past the man in the pale shirt as he came down the steps.
"My daughter’s at the back," the woman told him, catching his sleeve. "She can’t get through the bags. Let me go up there."
"They’re coming," the man replied, taking her by the shoulder and turning her away. "You need to move."
"She isn’t coming. I can see her at the window!" The woman tried to pull free. "Let go of me. I need to get to her."
He pushed her against the side of the bus and held her there while looking toward the minibus.
Jingwei reached for his rifle, but Hanchuan caught his forearm before he lifted it.
"There are too many people behind him," Hanchuan said quietly. "Look through the doorway."
Jingwei followed his gaze. A passenger was struggling down the steps behind the man, with more people crowding close. He lowered the rifle onto his thighs, though his hand stayed around the grip.
A window broke near the rear of the bus.
The mother turned so quickly that the man lost his hold. She ran toward the opening as pieces of glass fell onto the road.
An arm reached out, then withdrew before someone began clearing the frame with a seat cushion.
The fire brightened underneath. For a moment, Hanchuan could see the passengers’ faces clearly through the surrounding windows.
"Zeyu, can you move left enough to light that side?" Hanchuan asked. "They need to see where they’re coming down."
"I can, once this man gets past us," Zeyu replied, waiting while someone hurried across their bumper with his head lowered.
He eased into the opposite lane.
The headlights swept along the bus and caught a girl crouched in the broken window. She had one hand on the frame and the other braced against the seat behind her, unwilling to let go of either.
Her mother threw the shoes aside and raised her arms.
"Come down, sweetheart," the woman called. "I’m right here. I’ll catch you."
The girl moved one leg over the edge, then stopped to look at the ground. Someone pressed close behind her, trying to reach the opening.
"Give her a moment!" the mother shouted at the person inside. "Let her get out first!"
The girl turned toward the voice behind her. Her hand slipped from the seat, and she pitched forward before she could catch the frame again.
Her mother caught her around the waist, but the weight brought them both down.
Qinghe drew a sharp breath beside the monitor. Hanchuan watched the girl scramble onto her knees while her mother tried to sit up, one arm still hooked around her.
Another passenger was already climbing into the window.
The mother saw the dangling feet and grabbed the back of her daughter’s shirt, dragging her clear before helping her stand.
They stumbled away together, the girl clinging to her mother’s arm. Neither looked back for the shoes.
"The road’s open beyond the bus," Jingwei told Zeyu. "There’s a car farther ahead, but it’s pulled against the other curb. We have room if these people stay clear."
"Take it slowly," Hanchuan said. "They’re watching the fire. They may not see us coming."
The mobile base crept forward. People turned as it emerged through the dust, some stepping back and others freezing where they stood.
"We’re passing on this side," Jingwei warned through the speaker. "Keep away from the wheels, and don’t cross in front of us."
Zhiyi pressed closer to Hanchuan as another passenger dropped from the broken window. He felt her fingers tighten around his wrist, then loosen.
"I’m watching them," Hanchuan told her quietly, keeping his eyes on the people beside the bus.
"I know you are," Zhiyi replied. She slid her hand beneath his and fitted their palms together. "You can hold me while you watch."
He looked down at her. His arm had remained behind her shoulders, but he had been holding himself so stiffly that she had little to lean against. He relaxed enough to draw her closer, letting her settle without shifting her injured side.
"There?" Hanchuan asked, his thumb brushing her fingers.
"That’s better," Zhiyi said, resting against him as they moved.
They were level with the middle of the bus when the man in the pale shirt ran toward the minibus carrying two bags. Hanchuan recognized one of them. Its owner did too.
The woman he had pushed down the steps caught the strap as he passed.
"That’s mine," she said, pulling it toward her. "You took it off me. Give it back."
The man struck her across the face without stopping.
She staggered against the minibus but kept hold of the strap. The attendant reached through the open doorway and grabbed the bag while people inside shouted for the driver to leave.
Hanchuan could see the woman trying to brace her feet. Her grip was all she had left, and she refused to release it even as the engine grew louder.
The minibus began moving with its door still open.
She ran alongside for two steps before losing her hold. The attendant hauled the bag inside, leaving her standing in the road with both hands empty.
"Zeyu, watch the minibus," Jingwei warned, leaning toward the windshield. "He’s pulling across us."
The smaller vehicle swung over the center line.
Zeyu braked hard enough to pull Hanchuan against his belt. Hanchuan tightened his arm around Zhiyi as the minibus stopped across their path, blocking the space they had been about to enter.
Behind them, more glass shattered.
The minibus driver leaned out of his window, waving frantically toward their bumper. Then he turned and pointed up the road.
Through the dust, two headlights were coming straight toward them.