Jack rolled down the exit ramp on his bicycle and into the labyrinth of overlapping highways and bridges that constituted the busy metropolitan education district. He only made it a short way before his progress was halted by a collection of firetrucks and police officers. It appeared some catastrophe had occurred. The authorities were setting up ropes and redirecting traffic as a somber crowd gathered. Jack walked his bike through the crowd toward a detour bridge. He noticed one man in the crowd crying.
He quickly arrived at the bridge to find that it, too, had been blocked. More curious than annoyed, he turned to a woman nearby and asked what had happened.
"There was a couple, walking along the bridge, and they stopped to look at that industrial complex. The woman was leaning over the edge, and all of a sudden, the man was in a locked position, holding her, trying to pull her back up. She was partway into the smoke column, and you could see him trying to swing her out of the way," she replied. Jack considered this for a moment.
The woman lifted her nose and sniffed the air. "Mmmmm, smells good," she remarked.
Jack looked down at the flat area below and to the left of the bridge to see a large, circular grill where many chunks of chicken and beef sizzled. At first Jack was horrified that the authorities would set up a grill after two people had lost their lives, especially considering the manner. But then he thought that it might serve to distract the public from the atrocity. At any rate, Jack would have to find another bridge to cross.
"You could try back tomorrow," offered a police officer apologetically.
"Sure, sure," said Jack. He didn't want the officer to feel bad for inconveniencing him.
"Well, actually, probably not..." said the officer. Jack nodded in understanding.
