The Bus Crash

I wake up disoriented, my head pounding.

I sit up, surveying the situation around me. I can’t recall what had happened. The sky is nearly black, and stars are beginning to appear. I wonder how long I've been unconscious. I lay on the pavement of a long, derelict section of highway. To my right, a large bus is on its side. The windows are shattered, and smoke rises from the engine, but there are no flames. Maybe there had been earlier.

I stand up, brushing myself off. I have a scrape on my arm, and my shirt is torn, probably from this apparent crash. I feel a bruise on my head. I must have hit it somewhere along the line. I approach the bus, part of me hoping there will be people, and part of me hoping there won’t be, seeing as it’s in poor condition. 

I bend down to examine the bus, but it is empty. I notice the windshield is also shattered. It looks as though something hit it from the outside. There is blood on it. Did we hit a deer? Where is everyone? 

I stumble around the bus, to make sure there are no people. It’s just me. I shiver. The wind has picked up on this deserted stretch of road, and I’m freezing. I hug myself, my thin blouse doing nothing to protect me from the cold. Did I have a jacket? I look around the wreckage, but I can find no clothing or suitcases. Perhaps it was to be a short trip. I search the bus, but come up with nothing. It is very cold now, and my teeth have begun to chatter. I can barely feel my toes. 

I decide it’s best to attempt to start a fire, so I collect some dry grass and sticks from the side of the road, and stack them neatly. I realize I have nothing to light it with. I check my pockets but find nothing useful. Then I remember the smoking bus. Could it still be warm enough? I take a bundle of grass and bring it to the bus’s still hot engine. It lights easily, to my relief. I carefully carry it back to my small pile and light it. It goes up quickly, and I scramble to find more fuel for the fire. I find a dry shrubby bush just off the road, and snap a few branches off. They don’t burn up as quickly.

I sit down by the fire and warm my hands. It’s not much, but it’s better than before. Plus, the fire offers some light. I check my pockets for a phone, but come up empty-handed. Did everyone get picked up, and leave without me? I thought that unlikely… I had been out in the open, on the road, hard to miss. I don’t know what happened to everyone else, but I decide it’s best to wait for a car to come by, and ask for help then. Who wouldn’t stop, seeing this mess? What could have caused this? I wonder for the hundredth time. Did we hit another car? If so, where is it? I feel pretty certain I was not driving, so at the very least, where is the bus driver?

I sit there as the sky becomes fully dark, my fire still flickering. It illuminates the side of the bus, and the shards of metal and glass that are strewn across the highway. I am almost off the road, not in danger of being hit by any cars, but the bus blocks almost half of it. Someone will surely stop for me. 

I am beginning to feel tired (surely a bad sign after being unconscious and having a headache—do I have a concussion?) when a shadow catches my eye just outside of the range of my firelight. 

It seems to be from the sparse trees that line this stretch of road. In the daytime, there would be nowhere for any animal to hide, but now, at night, I can’t see past the faint orange light my fire gives off. I tense, and put my pack to the bus, staring at the faint outlines of the trees and shrubbery.

I see the shadow again, flitting past, just beyond where I can fully see. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? I wonder. The way fires dance and move, shadows can be misleading. But I definitely saw something move….

I stand, still hugging myself due to the cold. 

The shadow appears again, and this time, I can see the outline of a person, on all fours. Perhaps someone injured, from the crash? Had they made some sort of camp in the trees?

“Hello?” I call out, but the figure skirts off into the darkness.

“Wait!” I cry. 

Abandoning all common sense, I rush towards it, not wanting to lose it in the blackness. I come to the edge of the trees, but am hesitant to go farther. My fire’s light does not reach this far, and I can’t be sure I won’t just get lost.

I return to the safety of the bus crash and my fire, but not long after, three more figures have emerged from the darkness, still flitting about just outside the firelight. 

I call out to them again, hoping for a response. 

They do not run this time, but simply observe me from the safety of the darkness. I am less certain now that these are people. 

One of them stands, possibly a bit too tall to pass for a person anymore, and extends a long arm out, gesturing to the empty highway. It drops back onto all fours. The figures began to scuttle off in the direction the main one showed me. I take that as an invitation.

I follow them. I don’t know why, every instinct is telling me not to, yet I do. It is nearly pitch black, but I can see the figures ahead of me. They somehow stand out against the dark. 

I follow them for a few minutes, and see they have led me to a tunnel. Most of the lights are dead, but a few flicker in the darkness, allowing me to barely see. The three figures seem to have disappeared into the wall, and I am feeling uncertain again. Where have they led me? 

It’s then that I notice a door on the side of the tunnel in the low light. Maybe for maintenance. 

I approach it, hesitantly. Is this where they are leading me? 

I open the door, and enter. There is a cold light in the room, from some unknown source, barely illuminating the horrors that have greeted me. Strange cocoon-like shapes hang from the ceiling, and it is not long before it dawns on me that they are people. Seemingly dead, or at least unconscious. Presumably from the bus. Had we hit one of the creatures? Is that what caused the crash? 

I don’t know where the figures have gone, but I decide not to bother looking. 

I retreat from the room, almost calm. I feel around for a lock on the inside door handle, and flick it to the “locked” position. I shut it firmly behind me. I think I hear muffled screams, but I don’t pause to check. I turn my back on the door and return back along the highway, back to the bus.  I’d rather take my chances out here, than in there. I find it odd they did nothing to take me as well. They simply showed me the room. Offered me a choice, in a way. But now what? 

I sit back down next to my fire, and prepare to wait the night out. Occasionally, I think I see shadows and figures at the edge of the firelight. I choose to ignore them. They don’t venture into the range of the fire. 

I think I’ll be okay, as long as it can keep burning. Of course, it’s beginning to die down, and I can’t retrieve any more kindling without leaving the range of its light. I still see the figures. Biding their time. Waiting, in the safety of the darkness. I know this time, they won’t give me a choice. I must keep my fire burning until morning.