by Jeff Olah
With less than fifteen feet separating the pair, and the desperate voices slowly succumbing to their injuries, the bus grew quiet. Sliding to her left and standing high on her toes, Cora filled her lungs and shouted. “Trish.”
What she saw as her friend lifted her head, confused her. As her and the others were rushed from their cells and out into the halls, she’d seen this same look across the few lifeless bodies left out in the open. The thick white haze that covered her friend’s eyes. The bewildered, almost animal like quality of her stare. And the blood, unevenly obscuring the edges of her mouth, dripped from her chin as she met Cora’s gaze.
“Trish… No. Please. No.”
Had Trish been infected by whatever took the others? Was she simply reacting to the accident? What was this and why had it taken some and not others? Back toward the front of the bus, looking for an exit, Cora winced as the bus shifted once again, threatening to pull away from the SUV and down the graduated slope.
Biting at the dead air and tearing at each new corpse she traversed, Trish was gone. What now occupied her body was no longer the women she trusted with her life. The animal that her friend had become struggled to continue forward through the forty-five-foot graveyard, and peering right through Cora’s eyes, raised her head and growled.
“Someone help. Please someone, anyone.”
Of the thirty-six individuals who had boarded the bus less than an hour before, not one responded. Had all those that were still alive been crushed beneath the dead and were now unable to speak? Were they simply too afraid? Had the women in the back already been overcome by the smoke and flames? Were they all dead?
It didn’t matter. No one responded and no one was going to help her. Cora would get herself out of this, just like she always did. Just like her father told her she always would. She didn’t need anyone, or anything.
Left with only one option—turning and going through the front windshield, she again, out of morbid curiosity, looked back at Trish. Her friend had been caught by the fire that was quickly spreading, although she still progressed toward her.
Both hands reaching for the seatback to her right, the bus again slipped on the icy road, shifting its grisly contents from left to right. Cora awkwardly slid between two guards, one of which had her throat cut by the jagged metal of the caved in roof. Leaning back, she pulled her legs up and placing her feet along the waist of the dead woman, pushed her away.
Through the darkened cabin, shadows played tricks with her eyes. Cora looked from left to right and back again, scanning the guard’s belt. She knew the exact placement of the keys she’d need to free herself from the cuffs, although with the obvious trauma the body had taken in the accident, the retractable keyset appeared to now rest somewhere behind the guard’s back.
Quickly calculating the time it would take to readjust the guard’s position, turn her around, and then fumble to remove the cuffs, Cora looked back at Trish. She didn’t have nearly that much time.
The rear of the bus now fully engulfed in the flames that had also advanced on her friend, Cora again repositioned her feet atop the guard’s shoulders. She slowly slid up and out of the pile holding her down. Again moving her arms above her head, she reached for the seat on the opposite side of the bus, clutched the tubular railing, and pulled away.
Less than five feet separated the friends as Cora lay atop the mound of bodies flat on her back. Craning her head backward, she was able to see daylight coming through the front of the bus in long slivers. Back through her legs, she was only able to see her friend’s face, arm, and shoulders as Trish continued toward her.
The bruises, lacerations, and removal of large swatches of skin along her friend’s wrists spoke of how Trish had been able to climb out of her spot at the rear of the bus and advance nearly thirty feet in under two minutes. Her badly malformed fingers and hands were evidence of the pain involved. Boarding the bus, every single woman who wasn’t a guard wore a pair of shiny silver bracelets meant to induce compliance. Trish had pulled hers off.
Tears formed at the corners of Cora’s eyes and began to roll down the sides of her face and into her thick brown hair. As the dense smoke continued to fill the void and filter in around Trish, the flames licked at her back and then quickly ignited her hair. Was she watching her friend die or had that already happened?
The shattering of glass and a rush of cool air preceded the bus once again jerking forward. The pressure difference, along with the bus’s movement, shoved Cora down and to the left. As the smoke pushed out through the opening and daylight took its place, a voice came through the shadows.
“Hey, anybody there?”
Trish was now on her. She had Cora’s left ankle in her right hand and began to pull.
“Yes, but I need help, like right now.”
The entity that was her friend reached out with her left hand, grabbed ahold of Cora’s other ankle and gradually inched forward.
“I’m coming, but you’re going to have to help.”
Cora kicked and tried to push away, although Trish’s grip wouldn’t be denied. The more she struggled, the further she slid down and to the left.
“I’m on my back and can’t move. Can’t you come to me?”
Sweat now ran from her face and neck, pooling at her back and down into her waist. The radiant heat moving from the rear of the bus seemed to intensify as it fought the cool air pushing in from behind.
“Okay, but it may take me a few minutes. How many are there that need help?”
She couldn’t tell if Trish was coming toward her or if she was being pulled back. Judging by the heat and the flames that had completely overtaken her friend, she’d have guessed the latter.
“I’m not sure, I can’t see anyone else, but I don’t have another two minutes—I don’t even think I have another thirty seconds.”
The bus shifted again and this time it tossed Cora out of the pocket she was in, and deposited her alongside her friend. Now less than eighteen inches apart, Trish moved in and began frantically clawing at her as she shielded her face with her hands, the only protection provided by the thin coveralls wrapped tightly around her arms.
Cora started to shake as Trish climbed on top, leaned in, and bared her teeth. A coagulated mess of blood and saliva slipped from the corners of her mouth and fell onto Cora’s bare neck. Daring to meet her friends gaze, she followed the trail of blood to Trish’s neck and down to her exposed right shoulder. Two distinct sets of teeth marks outlined a large section of missing flesh. Someone or something had bitten her friend, and the same thing was about to happen to her.
“Help, please hurry.”
12
Ethan moved back to the window as David’s curiosity continued to grow. With his connection to the internet coming and going and the bandwidth slowing to a crawl, he abandoned the video sharing sites and instead started searching forums. He looked for any threads started within the last few hours, regardless of title. From what he could surmise, this was the only thing being discussed online.
Avoiding any of the conspiracy theory forums and opting only for sites that appeared well informed, he found his way to a website that showed nearly one million active members, of which 86,000 were currently online. The first and most active thread was titled ‘WTF is happening’. He didn’t have a clue, and it appeared that no one else did either.
As he opened the thread and his connection slowed once again, David turned back to Ethan. “Just give me a few minutes; I want to see what I can find out before we go. You cool with that?”
Only half paying attention, Ethan nodded. “Sure, but I think I found those crazy chili fanatics.”
Back to his work, David returned the same level of enthusiasm. “Yeah, okay.” He read the first post and had the same exact question. What is happening to people? Is this some sort of sickness or mass terrorism? The first page of more than fifty included little information and was filled mainly with those looking to add to the already out of control hysteria.
/> One theory told of a super virus that had become airborne and would kill each new host within minutes. Another described a story where the latest round of flu shots had turned its consumers into bloodthirsty vampires. And still another tried to sell the idea of the government infecting its own citizens as a form of population control.
David didn’t buy any of these, and neither did anyone else. Glancing through pages ten through twenty brought stories from those actually living the incidents. They told firsthand accounts of what the video sharing sites had portrayed, as most had gone offline due to the server-strangling amount of traffic each site was attempting to manage.
Page eighteen stopped David’s search, as he found a lengthy post from a woman in Atlanta who was on her way to the gym with her husband when the madness rolled through. She described a group of six crazed individuals so badly disfigured that she had trouble distinguishing the men from the women.
Stopped at an intersection, they ran across the half dozen out of control individuals as they poured out of the local coffee house in pursuit of a lone female. At first the woman assumed that she and her husband had become involved in an elaborate prank, but quickly understood the severity as those wide-eyed men and women began beating her vehicle with their bare hands.
They approached from the driver’s side and tore at her mirrors, pulling free the weather-stripping around the window. As the largest in the group leapt onto the hood, she said her forty-seven-year-old husband stepped out of the passenger side and confronted the six ravenous people.
Before he was able to question those attempting to destroy his vehicle, he was tackled to the ground by the man on the hood. The others moved in quickly as he slid backward and up onto the sidewalk. Giving up on the female who’d sprinted away from the intersection, the riotous animals turned their full attention to her husband.
Continuing the story, the woman told of how she lowered her window and screamed that her husband return to the car. He immediately obliged and narrowly finding his way into the back seat, the woman turned the car around and headed away from the downtown square.
Heading home, the woman said that she noticed an alarming amount of blood running from her husband’s right hand and noticed he’d been bitten by the man that had left the hood and chased him down. She tried three different twenty-four hour clinics, only to return home as not one was open that morning for business.
The woman continued to post every few minutes with updates as her husband’s condition began to deteriorate. First came the uncontrollable fever and within an hour signs of delirium. As the woman became aware of just how widespread the calamity was, she warned others away from her hometown.
Continuing to scan the next few pages, the woman’s posts began to taper off. She indicated that she checked on her husband every few minutes and that he started going in and out of consciousness. He stopped breathing and then again started just before she tried to call for an ambulance. She indicated that the emergency number had rung for over an hour, without anyone picking up.
In her final post, the desperate woman from Atlanta who’d been a member of the forum for less than two months, asked for prayers and said that she was going to the living room to sit with her husband. She would continue dialing for help, although his face had gone flush, and his pulse was slowing with each passing minute. Her last six words… “I fear this is the end.”
Before refreshing the page, David paused and looked at the phone. He picked it up, hit the dial button, and held it to his ear. “Damn it.” Still no dial tone.
As Ethan turned away from the window, his smile was oddly out of place. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows rose a stack of smoke from somewhere along the eastern edge of town. David knew that the dense brown column meant that somewhere a structure was burning.
Nodding to Ethan he said, “I think we need to get out there and see what’s going on, and what’s with the smile?”
“Emma’s gonna kill me. Those chili people are out past the library and blocking Main, all the way up to Third Street. They’re just milling around out there like cattle. We’re gonna have to go all the way around and take Fourth back to Main.”
“I don’t know man, whatever’s happening out there looks like it’s taking over, taking over everything. It’s not just the big cities. It’s everywhere. I say we go check Shannon’s house, then run by the hospital just to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?” Ethan said. “That those things from the internet don’t come running through our pitiful little town? Trust me, no one wants to come here, not even those… whatever they are. I mean the people that live here have been trying to escape for years, and—”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I always do.”
“Okay Mister Know-it-All, so what’s with the smoke, and why aren’t there any sirens?”
“Well, for one,” Ethan said, “I assume that’s coming from the super awesome, people magnet that is the Chilifest. You know, out there at John’s farm. And there probably aren’t any sirens because every fireman within thirty miles is over there waiting to get a taste of all that free chili.”
“Either way, we need to get in the truck and do something.”
“You mean like, our jobs?”
David shook his head, “You actually wanting to work? Wow, this world must really be coming to an end. That has never happened.”
Ethan reached into the desk and grabbed the keys. “There’s a first time for everything.”
13
Waving the smoke away, Griffin dragged the first three limp bodies he came across to the side of the road before he was able to spot her. The fire that spread from the SUV had now taken over the entire rear of the overturned bus and was quickly advancing.
Leaning in, he brushed aside the largest shards of broken glass and nearly fell back as the driver appeared to move. Squatting, he placed his index and middle finger along the driver's carotid, and continued to find the female voice. “I’m coming, just keep talking, what’s your name?”
“Cora, my name is Cora, please help.” The intensity in her voice now outpaced the flames consuming the bus. “There’s someone back here that’s… that’s trying to kill me.”
Unable to locate a pulse, Griffin slid the driver out of the way, although he was still focused on the unusual facial characteristics of the lifeless older gentleman. With his eyes fixed in a blank stare and the last of his motor impulses used to open and close his jaw, the driver was obviously gone.
Stepping over another badly mangled corpse, Griffin spotted the body that belonged to the voice. Positioned flat on her back, the petite woman fought off the advances of her much larger aggressor.
Moving through the tight space, Griffin was hit with the wall of heat as he reached for an errant bottle of water. Removing the lid, he tossed it end over end at the flaming beast. Now less than six feet separating him from the woman he needed to get to, he noticed her handcuffs and bright orange jumpsuit protecting her from the woman who’d pinned her down.
The bottle of water connecting with its intended target, he shouted. “Hey… you, what are you—”
As the scorched attacker looked up, met his eyes, and began to growl, Griffin stopped. The woman’s critically wounded head and neck were every bit as repulsive as they were intimidating. With only feet between them, the decomposing tissue along her face, mouth, and hands put off a stench he had yet to experience. She smelled like death had come for her three days ago and she looked even worse.
“What the hell are you?”
He didn’t think. He didn’t pause and he didn’t speak. Griffin reached into the mound of bodies separating him from the women and pulled. He pulled from the bottom and struggled against the weight and as they began to fall around him, the larger woman slid back and to the right, the flames at her back now completely enraged.
Laying on his stomach across three dead prison guards, Griffin extended his arms and reached for Cora’s hands. Still on her back, she clutc
hed his wrists and began kicking at her attacker who’d righted herself and grabbed for her ankles yet again.
“Keep kicking,” Griffin said as the larger woman continued to pull her way back toward them.
Still on her back, Cora kicked as Griffin pulled. The larger woman continued to claw at Cora’s pant leg as Griffin braced himself and wound the orange jumpsuit around his wrists. “Look at me, and don’t look anywhere else. We’re getting out of here, right now.”
Cora leaned back and through her upside-down view, locked eyes with Griffin. She didn’t say a word as her thoughts were still with the woman tearing at her legs. Freeing her right foot, she was able to kick down and land a glancing blow against the right side of her friend’s already disfigured face.
Coming back quickly, the incensed woman led once again with her snapping jaw as Cora landed another strike and then another. With her left leg trailing, the woman grabbed Cora’s exposed ankle and began forcing it toward her mouth. As Cora again kicked out with her free leg, the woman bit down and came away with nothing but air.
Finding a foothold along the uneven surface he stood on, and with Cora nearly free, Griffin released his left hand and grabbed the railing near the bus’s door. Anchoring himself, he quickly squatted down and tightened his grip on the orange jumpsuit. “Hold on.”
Her calves cramped and her lower back began to spasm as Griffin pulled her away from her attacker. Up and over three more battered bodies and then crashing out into the open area at the front of the bus, the pair fell into one another. Griffin pushed back into the driver’s area, knelt down, and helped Cora up and onto her feet.
Back to Cora’s attacker, the mound of bodies shifted awkwardly, sending her to the bottom and burying her beneath four others. With only her arms and face now visible, Trish fought unsuccessfully to free herself from the crushing weight and the flames that finally consumed her. “She’s gone,” Griffin said.
Reaching out and taking his hand into hers, Cora said, “Thank you.”
