by N.W. Harris
Shane brought his bus to a stop behind Tracy’s, its air system letting out a loud hiss when he set the parking brake. Kelly handed Shane a crossbow, their fingers touching for a brief moment on the stalk. They paused, their gaze meeting above the weapon. Although sadness weighed heavy in her eyes, the right side of her soft lips turned up for an instant. A flash of heat surged through him, pushing back the numbing gloom. Before he could respond, she looked away and darted down the steps, joining Steve, Matt, and Laura, who climbed off the supply bus. The momentary thrill vanished, and depression enveloped Shane once again.
He was grateful no one said anything about what happened back at his dad’s auto shop. At this point, no words could comfort him, and he feared he’d break down if they mentioned it. They silently walked forward together and stood next to Tracy and Aaron near the front of the lead bus.
“They look harmless enough to me,” Aaron observed. He sighed with exhaustion and adjusted the compound bow slung over his shoulder.
“We have to be careful,” Tracy warned. “It could be a trap.”
“Don’t be so freaking paranoid,” Laura replied. “It’s just a bunch of scared little kids. That looks like a church bus that’s flipped over behind them.”
“Yeah, well, there could be somebody hiding in the bushes off to the side, or behind that bus,” Tracy retorted, “just waiting to ambush the poor fools who try to offer help.”
“Seems unlikely,” Shane said, trying to defuse the tension boiling between the two girls. “But we should be careful.”
He guessed Laura and Tracy never spoke a word to each other until today—they mixed about as well as vinegar and baking soda.
“Look at them,” Kelly said, sweet sympathy prevalent in her voice. “The oldest one can’t be more than ten. And they’ve probably sat out here in the rain for hours.”
“We should load them up and take them with us,” Matt chimed in, his southern drawl thicker than anyone else’s was. “The poor thangs—they must be scared half to death.” Matt’s accent hadn’t been so strong a few years ago; his family was from Boston after all. Shane reckoned he was embarrassed by how smart he was and was trying to dumb himself down to fit in.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Tracy persisted. “We already have a lot of kids to watch over. And what if the supplies run out?”
“Come on,” Kelly scolded. “We’ll be at the military base before morning. We can bring them with us and find someone to take care of them there.”
“I say we leave them some food and blankets,” Tracy said, acting like she didn’t hear Kelly. “We can send help for them once we get to the base.”
“You sound so insensitive,” Laura scolded.
“We ain’t leaving them here,” Shane cut in. Shielding his eyes against the sprinkling rain with his hand, he glared at the arguing girls under it. “I’m going to talk to them.”
Not waiting for a response, he walked toward the kids. There were about twenty of them, all of elementary school age. They squinted, blinded by the bright light from the bus’ headlamps. Huddling closer together as he approached, they seemed to fear he’d raise his crossbow and fire at them.
“It’s alright,” Shane said in his gentlest voice, stopping fifteen feet away and slinging his crossbow behind him. “We mean you no harm.”
He could see a few of them had tears on their cheeks, and they all wore ghostly expressions, like they’d been through hell. The warm August rain drenched their clothing.
Looking at the tallest boy in the group, Shane asked, “What happened here? Is everyone okay?”
The boy looked back at him, his face blank as if he didn’t understand English. He had a scratch across his forehead, and a chubby kid next to him held a wadded shirt to his nose.
“It was the animals,” a little girl who looked to be about seven piped up. “Horses ran in front of the bus and made us crash. Then rats killed Father Jacobs.” She blinked at Shane with big, innocent, brown eyes, like she’d just told him she’d lost her favorite dolly and wanted him to help her find it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shane said softly. It sounded terribly insufficient. He shifted his weight, frustrated in an attempt to come up with words to comfort the battered children.
“Y’all should come with us now.”
“Where you going?” the outgoing little girl asked.
“Somewhere safe,” Shane replied, walking forward and extending his hand to her.
“I wanna go home,” she said, taking it and looking up at him. “I want my mama and daddy.” Her voice broke, and tears puddled in her eyes.
“We’re gonna get some help,” Shane promised, his voice faltering. He looked around at the group of kids, trying to make eye contact with each of them in hopes he could offer a measure of reassurance.
Several nodded. Shane turned around and started walking back to the buses. He looked over his shoulder after a few steps and saw the kids rising to their feet and following him. Their heads hung low, and the rain plastered their hair and clothes so they looked like half-drowned kittens.
Tracy scowled, expressing her disapproval at taking on more passengers. Shane acted like he didn’t notice, turning around at the front of the first bus and dividing the kids into two groups.
“Kelly, will you please help this group onto our bus?” he asked. “The rest will ride with you, Tracy.”
He gave Tracy a firm look, expecting her to challenge him again. Surprisingly, she kept quiet and guided her group into her bus. Then Aaron and Steve stood guard as several of the passengers stepped into the trees alongside the freeway and relieved themselves.
“We should do a head count,” Laura said. She held a crossbow, looking a bit like a petite comic book heroine with her jet-black hair and black shirt and pants. She had wiped her dark makeup off, rendering her face younger than usual. “It’s getting hard to keep track of all these kids.”
“Good call,” Shane replied.
Laura turned and entered Tracy’s bus, then came out after a couple of minutes and got on Shane’s bus. He climbed into the driver seat, and she settled in the first row with Kelly.
“Seventy-eight in all,” Laura reported.
“Wow, that’s a lot of kids,” Kelly mused.
The responsibility to ensure the kids’ safety weighed heavy on Shane, making him wish Laura had kept the number to herself. Why did he feel liable for the kids in the first place? He hadn’t volunteered to be anyone’s leader—yet it seemed they forced him into the role. Shane couldn’t wait to find some adults and be relieved of the burden.
“Let’s just pray we get some help at the military base,” he said. “Or else we’re going to need a whole lot more supplies.”
