by J. R. Rain
The bus grew louder. It blotted out most of the street. The driver sat high above us. He looked alert and clear-headed. He didn’t look like someone who was about to lose control of a massive vehicle that, if out-of-control, might as well be a Sherman tank.
I sat forward, ready to spring into action. Would I be fast enough to save the girl? Should I just grab her now and haul her out off the bench and over the far wall?
I nearly did. In fact, I had just started to rise off the bench when something happened.
That something was the hiss of air brakes.
The bus was stopping.
I didn’t relax until the bus had fully stopped in front of us. And when it did, the girl leaped to her feet, throwing her bag over a shoulder. She turned to me as the bus door hissed open. “Nice call, bitch.” She stepped inside, looked back at me once, and promptly flipped me the bird.
The bus driver leaned toward me. An elderly man with a red face. “Hey lady, you coming in or what?”
“No, sorry,” I said, my voice trailing off. “Wrong bus.”
He shrugged, reached for a lever, shut the door. A moment later, the bus was heading north again on Harbor Boulevard, leaving me sitting alone and confused as hell. I didn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or irritated.
What the hell had just happened?
I didn’t know, but the very bus I had seen smashing into the cement bench and crushing the young girl in the waitress uniform had just passed me by. And just as that thought crossed my mind, just as the bus crossed the next intersection, I looked down at the bench beneath me.
It was wooden.
I snapped my head up, searching desperately ahead. Yes, there was another bus stop two blocks away. A bus stop that was directly in front of a Cocoa’s restaurant—
Where a young waitress—wearing the same black slacks and pin-striped blouse—was sitting, on what was surely a cement bench. A young girl digging in a handbag and not paying attention to the bus bearing down on her.
I leaped to my feet, sprinted down the sidewalk. I would never get there in time, not even with my freaky enhanced speed. And the bus, if anything, was picking up speed.
All while the girl continued digging in her bag.
Shit.
I ran faster, passing people on the street. Many turned to watch me speed by. Many didn’t care or notice.
Someone screamed far ahead. I looked up and saw why. The bus was slewing across the lane, bouncing into the curb. Metal sparked from the rims.
The light on Amerige Street was mercifully green, and I dashed across it, running faster than I ever had before, but knowing I would never make it in time.
And knowing there was only one thing I could…
A single flame appeared in my thoughts.
I focused on the flame and ran and dodged signs and people and trees. As the flame grew brighter, I leaped as high as I could, holding my arms out. I convulsed. My clothing burst from my body. And when I opened my eyes again, giant, black, leathery wings stretched out far and wide to either side. Wings that were once my arms. And instead of falling back to the sidewalk, I sailed forward, low to the ground.
Someone screamed behind me. Two, three, four screams.
A tree was fast approaching. I flapped my wings hard, gaining altitude—and just clipped the tree. A car to my left hit its brakes, squealing. Another car hit its brakes. More squealing, but mercifully I didn’t hear the sounds of cars crashing.
The building next to me was mostly smoked glass, nearly as dark as my thick hide. I hoped it camouflaged me enough to not cause a major panic.
Below, the bus careened off a small tree, flattening it, scattering leaves and birds everywhere.
I flapped my wings faster, racing forward. Wind thundered over me. One or two people below stopped and pointed at me, but most people were watching the out-of-control bus, oblivious that something giant and horrific was speeding through the night air just a few feet above their heads.
The bus bounced and jolted—and bounded onto the curb like something hungry and destructive. Now I heard screaming from inside the bus. What had happened to the driver?
I didn’t know, and I had no time to think about it. I had seen in my dreams what happens to this poor girl, and it’s not pretty. And, just like in my dreams, she sat directly in the path of the runaway bus.
I angled my wings and rocketed down. I was still about a half a city block away.
The bus slammed into another tree, plowed through a hedge, obliterated a trash can. Someone in its path dove out of the way, saving themselves.
The girl on the bench still hadn’t looked up, was still clueless, was still rocking out to whatever the hell she was listening to.
Someone yelled at her from across the street, waving their arms in vain trying to get her attention.
No luck. Now she suddenly laughed at something. Perhaps a funny lyric in the song. Perhaps recalling a funny conversation she’d had today. Either way, it was the same laugh from my dreams.
I dropped from the sky, talons extended. A bird of prey. A beast of prey. The bus was now half on the curb, half on the street, rumbling inevitably toward the girl.
I sliced through the air. A black streak. A black streak with claws and teeth and wings.
People were screaming. The girl finally looked up.
She screamed too, tried to run.
Too late. The bus was upon her.
Except, I was upon her, too. Or, rather, on top of her. Just as the bus blasted through the cement bench, my clawed talons snatched her from under her arms and around her shoulders.
I beat my wings hard, lifting the girl, who screamed and twisted beneath me. I lifted her higher and higher, all while I heard the destruction below. Concrete and metal colliding. Horns honking. More screaming than I had ever heard in my life.
Soon, we were above the highest building.
Near the corner of the roof, near a door I suspected led to stairs, I set her down.
She was still screaming as she crumpled into a heap. I saw immediately that her clothing was torn where I had grabbed her. Blood oozed from a few wounds as well. Her shoulders, I was certain, were dislocated.
But at least she was alive.
I didn’t linger.
I flapped my wings hard and rocketed up into the night sky.
7.
There was much talk about the bus crash.
The driver, an old man who was nearing retirement, had suffered a massive heart attack. He’d fallen over the steering wheel, and it had taken many passengers to finally wrestle him off and gain control of the bus. And despite going up the curb of a busy, downtown sidewalk, no one had been seriously injured.
Much had been made of the creature that had appeared. A creature witnessed by many people. Also, much had been made of the girl who was seen on the park bench in one instant, and then seemingly gone the next. Only to reappear miraculously on a nearby rooftop. Injured but safe.
There was much talk of a guardian angel.
Or a guardian something, since those who had seen the creature proclaimed it was no angel.
A demon, if anything.
I knew all of this because Detective Sherbet of the Fullerton Police Department had talked to me about it, confirming that it had been me. Secretly, of course, as he knew most of my secrets. He reminded me that I wasn’t a superhero, but he also thanked me.
Most intriguing were the reports of a naked woman seen sneaking through town, only to disappear into a minivan.
And drive off.
I knew that hide-a-key would come in handy.
The End
Coming soon!
Moon Island
Vampire for Hire #7
Christmas 2012
Samantha Moon is back for the holidays in:
Christmas Moon
Available now!
Kindle * Kobo * Nook
And Read Fang’s backstory in:
Teeth and Other Stories
Kindle *
Kobo * Nook
Also, Samantha Moon
stars in two other short story collections:
Vampire Nights and Other Stories
Kindle * Kobo * Nook
Vampire Blues: Four Stories
(Samantha Moon Case Files #1)
Kindle * Kobo * Nook
About the Author:
J.R. Rain is an ex-private investigator who now writes full-time in the Pacific Northwest. He lives in a small house on a small island with his small dog, Sadie, who has more energy than Robin Williams. Please visit him at www.jrrain.com.
