By the time Thompson crawled out of the vehicle, his head was bloody. The vagrants in the cargo compartment had been hit even harder. Of the group of four rescued from the park, three crawled out on their own. Their lives were not in danger.
Thompson and Jason climbed into the overturned cargo compartment, intending to rescue the last one, but all they found was a corpse.
This guy had been unlucky too. Thompson had deliberately left some secured cargo in the truck bed and told them to hold tight to the ropes tied around it while riding. But this man insisted on showing off. Instead of sitting or crouching, he climbed on top of the cargo.
When the truck overturned, he rolled around inside like laundry in a washing machine, completely unsecured, before slamming into something and snapping his own neck.
As Jason and Thompson dragged out his body, one of the group of four rushed over and shoved Thompson like she had gone mad. The woman said the dead man was her younger brother, baring her teeth and claws as she tried to gouge out Thompson's eyes.
Jason hurriedly pulled her away, but the surrounding onlookers surged forward again, boxing them in and beating and kicking them. Because Thompson had driven away in time and the bomb had not hit the vagrants in the truck, no one knew whether anyone had died in the blast.
Jason and Thompson were strong, but they could not possibly stand against more than a dozen people, especially after being tossed around so badly in the vehicle that they could barely stand. They could only lie on the ground, cover their heads, and endure the beating.
Fortunately, the others knew the die had been cast. There was no point beating them now. They