by Castle, Jack
Wally knew there was no point in checking Tower’s vitals; for starters his head was split in half. What the hell am I gonna tell his wife?
(You mean you can’t just say his fellow firefighter split his head in half like a melon with an ax?)
A quick check on Santos confirmed what Wally already suspected; the blade of the ax had passed right through the kid’s back and into his heart. It was absurd of course, and there would be time for grieving later, but for now, he still had two lives to save.
Given the urgency of the situation with Denise there wasn’t even a discussion about taking the time to tag-and-bag the three remaining bodies. Despite this, Wally saw Becca cover each body with blankets taken from the back of the ambulance. She then weighed each blanket down with whatever she could find; rocks, a toolbox, the bloody ax. The entire time they both kept checking the sky, the road, and to be totally forthcoming, maybe even each other a little. There was just no telling what horrible thing might jump out of the shadows made more eerie by the strobes and prevailing moonlight.
Wally noted the woman carried her gun in her right hand the entire time. She did this wherever she went. At least she had the sense to keep it pointed down at her side and her finger out of the trigger guard and pointed along the slide. Military training perhaps? She wore a military coat, but then so did a lot of people with access to the local thrift store. And she wore that K-9 instructor ball cap, but Wally figured she could’ve bought that online. But no, she kinda moved like a cop and he figured she was the real deal.
Getting worried about Denise’s condition he shouted over to her, “Hey, we should probably get going!”
“Be right there,” she called back, and after a precious few minutes of digging in the cargo area of his overturned Land Rover she popped out with a thick canvas backpack that had obviously seen better days.
She slung the vintage rucksack over one shoulder like she’d been doing it for years and jogged back over to him. Wally opened the rear payload door of the ambulance and started to climb in.
“You’re going to have to drive,” he said. When he saw her looking at him questioningly he explained, “I have to stay in the back with Denise and maintain her vitals.”
“Right, sure.”
Becca moved from the back of the ambulance to the cab. She slipped in behind the wheel, and after a quick adjustment of the seat and mirror, she said, “You two ready back there?”
Wally double-checked that both gurney and Denise were stabilized and secure one last time and said, “Yeah. Let’s get the hell out of here before something else shows up.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, and shifted the transmission into drive and headed the ambulance down the road.
At first, as was common with most traffic accident victims, Becca could only bring herself to drive an easy forty-five mph. Wally was about to remind her of Denise’s dire situation, but she glanced over her shoulder at Denise, seemed to remember this too, and stepped on the gas.
Every few minutes or so Wally rechecked Denise’s heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation levels, and first aid dressings. Her initial set of vitals were a little high, but all well within norms, which was pretty good, especially considering what had happened to her. He still couldn’t believe it all. Satisfied Denise was stable he decided this was the best opportunity to conduct a full “head-to-toe” assessment. He used his trusty trauma shears to quickly expose the rest of her body. Other than a just a few additional minor scratches on her upper and lower extremities, he didn’t discover anything more life threatening than she already had. He started her on an IV giving her a 250cc bolus of normal saline along with some morphine to numb the pain that was sure to follow.
When the K-9 instructor finally spoke for the first time she simply said, “Just so you know, I have no idea where I’m going here.”
Wally glanced at his watch. It was nearly 1:20am. Sitting in the back next to Denise he had to raise his voice to be heard above the engine noise and vibrating equipment. “Don’t worry; just keep going west for about an hour, you’ll pass this crappy little roadside motel, the hospital’s only about another hour and forty-five minutes past that.” Then to bolster her confidence he added, “You’re doing fine.”
“Copy,” she said, trying to dial her cell phone again for the umpteenth time. Judging by her grumbled curses after each attempt, she wasn’t having much luck.
Wally tried dialing his own cell phone and then his radio too, but thus far, his cell phone was out of range, and he only got a blaring horn signal on the radio, indicating either his radio was broken or the antenna was down back at the station.
The uncomfortable silence lasted a few more minutes more before Wally noticed that Becca’s wrist bandage was soaked red and dripping with blood. He checked Denise’s vitals one last time, and once he was certain she was stable and would stay that way, he grabbed a roll of fresh gauze. “Here, you’d better let me wrap your wrist again. You lose any more blood and you might pass out.”
Becca raised her blood-soaked wrist and stared drunkenly at it for a second. Wally had decided she was going into shock, but she was doing a pretty good job of dealing with it.
As the ambulance continued to sojourn down the lonely highway, Wally climbed out of the payload area and dropped into the passenger seat of the cab. “Let me take a peek.”
The K-9 instructor sized Wally up again with that quick sidelong glance of hers, then extended her right arm toward him; all the while keeping her left hand on the wheel and eyes on the road.
Using the pair of scissors he always kept holstered on his hip, Wally carefully cut open the woman’s field dressing. It was a pretty nasty bite. “Okay, because ravens carry a ton of toxic bacteria in their beaks I’m gonna douse you with some sterilized saline. It shouldn’t sting too badly.” He popped the top and was about to pour some on her wound but then thought better about it. “Would you prefer to pull over?”
Wally watched the woman in the K-9 instructor hat give another quick look over her shoulder at Denise before answering, “Nope, I’m good.”
“Alright, here we go.”
To give credit where credit is due, she winced in pain a little but did not cry out, and more importantly, she didn’t drive the ambulance off the road. Now that the wound was cleaned out Wally opened another pack of gauze.
“Alright, I’m going to put on a compression bandage. It’s going to be a little tight, but that’s the idea.” He began carefully winding the gauze around her wrist. “As long as you can still wedge your little finger in-between the bandage and your skin you know it’s not too tight, but we’ll keep an eye on it together just to make sure.”
As Wally continued to work she asked him, “How long you been a medic?”
Wally thought this an odd question. He would’ve thought she’d prefer to talk about the recent murders and insane events that had just transpired. Maybe this was her way of coping; a little small talk. He decided to roll with it for now.
“Feels like my whole life. My dad was a firefighter in L.A., and before him, his dad was a firefighter in Chicago. After my folks divorced, my pop and I moved here to South Dakota when I was little; I practically grew up at the Fire Station in Rapid City. I took some time away from it in college. I ended up going back down south to San Francisco and taught scuba classes to tourists to pay for school, that sort of thing, but I guess being a fireman is just in my blood.”
Sticking to the small talk, they did have another hour-and-a-half to go after all, he asked her, “What about you? You in the military?”
The woman bit down on her lip for a moment before answering. Clearly this was not her favorite subject. “I was.” He waited another few seconds and she added, “I was coming up on the ten year mark but there was…” she hesitated before finishing “…an accident. And I got booted out on Medical discharge.”
He could see this really bothered her, or maybe there was something more to her ‘accident’ than she was letting on. So h
e settled for, “Wow, I’m sorry to hear that,” and finished rolling the fresh bandage around her wrist. He split the end in half with his trusty scissors, and bow tied it directly over the wound to provide some additional pressure. Holstering his scissors like a seasoned gunfighter he announced, “Okay, that should hold until we get you in to see the Doc.”
Becca only grunted slightly. “So, any theories as to what the hell happened back there?”
Okay, now we’re getting to the nitty-gritty.
“To which are you referring; the killer ravens or the way Spence went all batshit crazy on us?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s start with the birds. I’m not from around here. Is that normal behavior for ravens?”
Wally shook his head. “Are you kidding? I’ve lived around these parts for most of my adult life and I’ve never even heard of ravens attacking anything that wasn’t already dead. Certainly not a living person.”
“And what about your firefighter buddy going all nutso?”
“Spence?” When she nodded he said, “Spence wasn’t the sharpest tool in the toolshed,” Wow, so weird talking about him in the past tense now. “But I’ve never seen the guy hurt a fly. And the way he moved so fast; it was unbelievable.”
Becca didn’t say anything, she only had a vacant stare. Wally decided this was something more than shock, something was really bothering her.
“I’ve never killed a man before. Been shot at a few times, and I even wounded a bad guy once, but I’ve never outright killed a man before, and in the back no less.”
And there it is… the Guilt Express, right on time. Wally had seen it many times, even experienced it a time or two himself; the second guessing, the ‘What could I have done differently, if not better?’ Not sure what else to say at the moment he offered, “Hey, Spence had gone crazy. I mean plum loco. He killed Tower and Santos with an ax. And if you hadn’t shot him, he would’ve killed me, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure and tell the cops exactly what happened in my report.”
Becca turned her head toward him. Wally noticed she had nice eyes. ‘Geez nice, Walster, why don’t you hit on her while you’re at it? Nice. Some professional you turned out to be.’ She sized him up again and murmured, “Thanks.”
“Least I could do, seeing how you saved my life and all.”
Becca flexed the fingers of her wounded arm making Wally think he might’ve wrapped her wrist a little too tight. “That’s going to make for one interesting report.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he responded glumly. “I best go check on Denise’s vitals again.”
She nodded at him without taking her eyes off the road.
Wally returned to Denise’s bedside and they drove down the highway a few more miles when Becca announced from up front, “Looks like trouble.”
Thinking she was talking about her wrist Wally answered, “Naw, a dozen stitches or so, and a regiment of antibiotics for possible infection, and you should be fine.”
“No, I mean we’ve got trouble up ahead.”
Wally lifted his head and stared out the windshield. Becca was right. Returning to the passenger seat Wally could just make out something up ahead, in the insanely bright moonlight. Some sort of large structure in the middle of the road. It was difficult to tell exactly what it was in the shadows, but whatever it was, it was shaped like a colossal obelisk, and it had to be at least four stories tall.
This is crazy, me, Tower, and Spence only came this away a few hours ago.
He told Becca, “You’d better slow down,” but he needn’t have bothered because she was already easing her foot off the gas. He noted she also removed her pistol from her holster and placed it on the dash within easy reach. Wally found himself wondering how many bullets she had left, and further, wondered what he himself could use for a weapon, something other than trauma shears.
And to think, I used to hate guns. Right now I’d give my left nut for one.
As the ambulance drew closer, crawling along at only about ten mph, they could see the monolith for what it really was; a school bus embedded nose-first into the pavement like a giant lawn dart.
And it was on fire.
Chapter 8
The Bus-Tower
“Are you seeing this?”
Becca rolled the ambulance to a stop in front of a dirty-yellow school bus imbedded perfectly into the highway asphalt like an Egyptian obelisk.
Staring at the crumpled bus-tower in front of her, as she had come to think of it, former Air Force Sgt. Becca Chaffee, thought to herself, This has got to be some sort of nightmare. It has to be.
She looked over at Wally in the passenger seat, but Wally was still transfixed and looking intensely out the ambulance’s front windshield.
Becca checked the fuel gauge. The ambulance was down to a quarter of a tank. Wally had said it was only about another hour to the next stop. Doing some quick mental math she figured if the ambulance had about a three hundred mile range, which meant they only had enough gas to go another… seventy-five miles… at best. If they didn’t find a gas station along the way it was gonna be close.
To save on fuel she switched off the engine and the two of them just sat there for a minute. Finally she asked the firefighter, “What do you think? Should we just drive around it?”
(That would be the smartest thing to do. It’s too bad they can’t hear us. Yes. I have limitations. But so do you!)
Under normal circumstances this probably wouldn’t even have occurred to the young fireman; a vehicle in distress, get out there and render aid. But in lieu of recent events (murderous ravens and a psychotic fireman), Wally didn’t seem too eager-beaver to get out of the ambulance. In fact, he didn’t move, only sat there leaning forward in the passenger seat with his face practically pressed up against the windshield. Realizing he had been asked a question he finally said, “I mean, we have to see if anyone needs help, right?” Wally looked at her, then back through the windshield at the bus tower. Not waiting for an answer, in an almost dream-like state, like a man accepting his fate, he grabbed the door handle and got out of the ambulance.
Becca sighed. “All righty then.” If she’d had her way, they would’ve turned that ambulance right around and headed the way they came. ‘Sorry guys, playtime’s over. My mom’s calling me. I have to go home for dinner now.’
Before getting out Becca spotted a heavy duty flashlight on a charging receptacle mounted on the bulkhead behind her. She pulled the light out, switched it on, and played the bright light over her hand. The moonlight was more than sufficient but if they had to go inside the bus they’d want all the light they could get.
She slid out from behind the wheel, but not before grabbing her pistol off the dash. Fully loaded, the Michael-modified .45 caliber pistol carried twelve rounds in the magazine with an additional round in the chamber, but she was certain she’d put at least five rounds into that crazed fireman leaving only eight bullets left. Mike had always taught her to carry extra ammunition whenever you could, and usually the appropriate amount of firepower if going out into the bush, but it never occurred to her to carry spare clips on a simple road trip down to the lower forty-eight.
The eight remaining bullets would have to do.
Donnie was thankfully mute on the subject.
(Indeed, now that you mention it, where is that mischievous little rascal? Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned you.)
Becca joined Wally and the two of them stood before the giant monolith. She found herself wondering what might happen if the bus-tower were to tip over toward them like a falling building. Would they be able to scramble out of the way in time? Did she park the ambulance far enough away? You never realize how long a school bus actually is until you see one standing on its nose in the middle of the highway like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. No, that wasn’t quite accurate, for the Leaning Tower of Pisa had a slight cant to it; the Bus Tower of the South Dakota Badlands was standing almost perfectly straight up and down, which only made it all the m
ore bizarre.
“Hello,” Wally called out tentatively. “Anybody here?”
They drew closer with their flashlights, which again, they really didn’t need, thanks to the crazy large moon that was still hanging out, and they could see the front of the bus, or base of the tower if you prefer. The hood was all smashed up like an accordion. If the driver had still been at the wheel on impact they’d be pulling his remains out with an eye dropper. The crash must’ve been especially horrendous because the bus’s entire roof had scrunched down smashing out all the windows and bending the frames to near slits.
“How do you want to do this?” Becca asked aloud.
It took him a moment to get there, but Wally finally glanced over at her and flashed her a look of ‘How the hell should I know?’ Echoing her own thoughts he finally said, “How does this even happen? I mean, it’s like a giant hand picked it up off the road and smashed it down onto the pavement like it was an empty beer can.”
That was a pretty good analogy for what they were seeing now. Normally she’d write something like that down in her little notebook to enter into her journal later, but this was one of those cases where the truth was far too strange to be anything but fiction; no one would believe it.
Neither of them could see a way inside. The normal glass paneled door entrance to the bus was crunched up along with the rest of the front end. Even if it wasn’t, the engine and front tires were still burning, their dying flames keeping them at bay.
“Hello,” Wally cried out again, only a little louder this time and with more gusto. “I’m with the Rapid City Fire department!”
Wally moved as close to one of the windows as the flames would allow and shined his flashlight inside. “Hello. Anybody in there?”
The bite on Becca’s wrist was really starting to burn now and her head ached like a mother. There was obviously no way anybody could have survived an impact like that. She was about to say as much when of course they heard a loud scream within. From the sound of it, the voice belonged to that of a young girl. If she were to guess, the voice was about mid-bus, which was currently about twenty feet or so up in the air.
