On the bridge deck that remained, Bruce and several others were working together to flip over an overturned car and rescue the people trapped beneath it.
With a shout, everyone heaved together and successfully lifted the sedan, placing the people pinned underneath onto stretchers.
The moment Bruce turned around, he saw a blaze rushing toward them. He roared and rolled aside, but the blast still sent him flying.
"Watch out! Watch out!" He heard Aisha scream.
Bruce hit the ground hard, his head striking rubble on the pavement. Blood immediately poured from the wound, and a piece of metal sliced his arm. His right thumb was completely numb; it might have been fractured.
Yet Bruce still staggered back to his feet, because the missile had overturned a bus parked by the roadside, trapping several people who had rushed onto the bridge to carry stretchers beneath it.
Fortunately, the bus had already been bombed and burned into little more than a wreck. The people underneath had not been crushed to death immediately and were still crying out in pain.
Bruce hurried over. The nearest civilians and medical workers also rushed forward, trying to lift the wreckage of the bus.
But no matter how badly burned the bus was, it was nothing like a sedan. Its sheer size was the problem. Unless they could apply force evenly from front to back, they had no hope of lifting it.
As Bruce ran over, he glanced at the water below and saw that the newly arrived firefighters and emergency rescue teams, equipped with large amounts of gear, had not come onto the bridge. They were rescuing the many cars that had fallen into the water instead.
There was no helping it. With insufficient manpower and equipment, they truly had to save the more endangered