Unlike cities like Shanghai and Beijing, the Zhengzhou subway system has yet to install designated emergency exit doors on its trains, which could have facilitated an evacuation.
About three dozen people managed to escape along the emergency walkway to safety. But before more could join them, the torrent became more violent. Cascading water dislodged the train from the track, blocking the escape route and forcing the remaining passengers back into the carriage, Wang told Sixth Tone.
“We were all panicked and wanted to ask the head conductor what we should do next,” one survivor told domestic media. “We felt like there was nowhere to ask for help.”
Inside the train, the passengers’ panic grew. The power supply went down, plunging the carriages into darkness, survivors recalled. Passengers held each other’s hands and exchanged comforting words, while others phoned loved ones to say their goodbyes.
As the water continued to rise, passengers allowed the children, elderly, and pregnant women to stand on the seats. One group managed to break a glass window near the top of the first carriage, to allow more air into the train.
Outside the subway, rescue workers struggled to respond. This was partly a result of the scale of the disaster: Zhengzhou’s emergency 120 hotline, which had 11 staff members on duty that night, was receiving calls for help from all over the city.
But internal communication issues inside the subway stations also appear to have hampered the response. A local resident surnamed Zong rushed to Shakoulu station after discovering that his wife was trapped inside the Line 5 train. However, when he arrived at the station just after 7:30 p.m., the staff appeared unaware of the situation inside the tunnel, Zong told local media.
By this point, some passengers had managed to reach Shakoulu via the emergency walkway, and the staff insisted that no more passengers remained inside the tunnel. Zong had to video call his wife to convince the subway workers they were mistaken.
“I knelt down and begged the metro staff to let me go down (into the tunnel), but it didn’t work,” he said.
The situation was direst inside the carriage where Wang and Zou were located. Because the train was stuck on a steep incline, the water level was even higher in the rear. By 7:30 p.m., it had almost reached the carriage ceiling, according to domestic media.
To save themselves, Wang and Zou decided to try and get out of the train. By clinging to some cables hanging in the tunnel, they hoped they’d be able to withstand the surging water and make it along the walkway to the station. Wang discarded his backpack, cell phone, and shirt, to allow himself to move more freely.
As Wang and Zou inched along the tunnel wall, floodwater roared past them like it was pouring through a burst dam, Wang recalled. Then, suddenly, Wang saw Zou slip and disappear into the rapids.
Wang went numb. He lost the ability to think and just gripped the cables as tightly as he could. He didn’t let go until a rescue party finally reached the stranded train. Survivors estimate the first rescue workers arrived at around 9 p.m.
That night, Wang said he repeatedly urged the rescue workers to search for Zou, believing he might still be alive somewhere inside the tunnel. But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Two days later, the Zhengzhou authorities announced that rescue teams had saved 500 passengers and recovered 12 bodies from the tunnel. Zou, however, was still missing.
Convinced he might still be alive, Zou’s wife, surnamed Bai, traveled to Zhengzhou from Shanghai and desperately tried to persuade Zhengzhou Metro Group to continue searching for survivors. But the company didn’t agree to conduct further searches inside the tunnel until the night of July 22, more than 48 hours after the disaster.
On July 25, Zou’s body was finally found. Bai has demanded the company explain why it delayed searching for more survivors. She has yet to receive a response.When contacted by phone, a staff member from Zhengzhou Metro Group told Sixth Tone the company was currently investigating its response to the disaster. “We will release the results of the investigation to the public when our work is completed,” she said.
Sixth Tone reached out to Zhengzhou metro staff on more than 10 occasions, asking to speak with workers who were on the flooded train and requesting further information about the company’s response to the accident. All of these requests were denied.
On Monday, the State Council, China’s Cabinet, announced it would also conduct an investigation into the disaster response in Henan province — the region where Zhengzhou is located — during the recent floods. It added that any instances of “dereliction of duty” would be punished according to the law.
Nine days after the tragedy, Sixth Tone revisited the area surrounding the Wulongkou rail yard. The scene was calm: The water had receded and the roads were busy once more. But the flood had also left several scars.
By the curb, several mud-stained vehicles sat abandoned, their open doors hanging like broken limbs. In the distance, a canal bridge was still covered with debris.
Near the rail yard, a local resident was scouring the area on a scooter. He told Sixth Tone he had revisited the roads between Wulongkou and Shakoulu three times over the past few days, trying to determine what had caused the deadly accident.
“All of us, my child and my family, we all take the subway,” said the man, who declined to be identified due to privacy concerns. “I have to do this. They must make changes and take precautions to avoid (similar disasters happening again) — even if they don’t tell the public the truth in the end.”
Correction: A previous version of this article stated that Zhengzhou received just under 550 millimeters of rainfall between July 17 and 20. The real total was just under 620 millimeters. The text has been updated with the correct figure.
