Alice Smith had always considered herself a calm woman. Teaching had certainly put a damper on that impression, but it had never really made it go away. She had studied hard, spent a considerable amount of time to become a teacher within the field of psychology. Her friends always joked she’d jumped into it because she wasn’t snobbish enough to open up her own office. She’d never admit they hadn’t been too far from the mark. She could spend an entire afternoon explaining how and why the stages of grief and loss were misunderstood and how they were perpetuating the myth. But put her in front of an actual grieving person and attempt to help them through their loss? To give encouragement to a man that was laying in what might become their deathbed? It was terrifying.
What if she messed up? What if she made things worse?
The thoughts bubbled and broiled inside Alice’s head as she sat next to the pale, shaking student, holding his clammy icy hand between hers. A part of her wished she at least knew more about medicine. She didn’t know what was wrong with Ryan Ortiz. She knew he was cold, that he had lost consciousness several times, and that his pulse came in fast and shallow. She knew that, without professional medical attention, he’d die.
And Alice Smith had nothing she could do about it. Sitting inside the upturned vehicle, clutching his hand, there was a tightness within her chest.
“Everything will be alright,” she said, whispers that felt hollow.
Of those that were incapacitated, Ryan was the only one that was visibly deteriorating. The others sported injuries, big ones, bleeding ones that had stopped but left the victims weakened. The teacher used the first aid kit and spare clothes… and patience. They were stable, groaning, barely conscious, but stable. Alice’s fingers tightened around Ryan’s clammy grip. The young man was not responsive past soft moans of pain.
Alice’s mind kept moving back to the stages of grief, the many bitter debates she had over the subject. She could almost imagine the ringing voices and heated words as arguments and counter-arguments were tossed into the wind.
There was a soft beeping from her pocket. Her phone, an alarm she’d set up earlier. It was a reminder she couldn’t and shouldn’t remain there for too long without moving or eating. It was just too easy to become lost in thought to avoid looking into the things that were happening around her.
It was more of an effort than she had thought it to be to let go of Ryan’s hand and stand up. The inside of the bus was dark, night had fallen and the air still felt heavy on her shoulders. Alice’s steps were a slow shuffle to the pile of backpacks where most of their food remained. With the aid of her phone as a substitute flashlight, she sifted through the Tupperware and found a sandwich wrapped in aluminum.
She didn’t know who the previous owner was, nor did she let herself think much about it. She tried her best to find enjoyment in the damp bread, stale lettuce, and the lukewarm cheese and ham. There might have been a hint of mustard, but she’d barely detected it, washing it all down with some water instead.
Her eyes fell upon the young woman sitting on the inside of the entrance to the bus. The sight made Alice’s gut tighten into a knot. May, the sibling of an unfortunate student who’d fallen prey to the spider-creature. Not a word had left the chestnut haired woman since then. May sat with her good arm wrapped around her knees, she’d remained quiet, deathly so, looking into the distance.
With a grimace, the psychology teacher moved to sit next to her. She couldn’t let herself give up. “Did you eat?” The response was a silent shake of the head. “Hungry?” A second one.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
At least she was responding to the stimulus. Alice leaned against the wall to try to distract herself from the feeling of looming chaos that hung around them. She could tell the others were no less weary and just as tired. But there wasn’t much she could do about it, not like this, not here.
It was like watching a boiler that was slowly heating up, the pressure silently climbing one bit at a time. And no release.
The psychology teacher hugged herself, looking down and tightening her grip. Her thoughts wandered to memories of home. A warm bed, a hot meal, a comforting hug from Arnold waiting for her. A tightness gripped her stomach. Arnold. It had been over a day. He was surely going crazy with worry by now. He always worried a lot. The memory brought a slight upward quirk to her lips. It was a reassuring warmth that fell onto her shoulders, something she wanted to look out and hope for.
She was fooling herself, in part. She knew the delusions of hope and its functions in extreme situations. Just because she understood the process involved in these feelings didn’t mean she saw no need to partake in them. She was certain it would do more harm than good to cling to some glimmer of a potential rescue. Right now, she needed something to give her strength to push forward.
With a nod of determination, she turned towards May.
“Here.” She offered the candy-bar she’d been keeping in her pocket. “You should eat, you need the energy.”
The young woman shook her head, tightening her arms into hugging herself more tightly. Her figure almost appeared to shrink as she did this. With her head lowering, the young woman kept her silence.
That made the psychology teacher grimace ever so slightly, taking a moment to consider how else she could help. What else she could say to convince her student to… live. At least in this she should have better odds to be useful than if she were applying medicine. Yet why did she keep feeling so useless?
AWWWOOOOOOOO
Alice’s thoughts ground to a halt upon hearing the distant howl. A chill ran down her spine. Her body was abruptly alive, adrenaline rushing through her.
Everyone else had similarly tensed up. Those that were still conscious exchanged panicked looks amongst each other. “That… I don’t want to know what that was.”
“Wolves?”
“We don’t need more monsters.”
“We need the men to protect us!” Ms. Dodson spoke with a shrill cry.
The declaration brought Alice to attention, the adrenaline and tension brought her to her feet like a coiled spring being released. She turned to the others, her mind rushed. “Mr. Gabriel had said something about the gasoline,” she spoke up, loud and clear. Years of practice helped her voice to be carried out through the bus. “Maybe we can use it.”
“Do we have an alternative?” Someone spoke from outside the vehicle.
“Better be quick.”
The people began to move on their own, almost in a panic, and Alice could barely keep up. She was a spectator as she watched the students and parents that could still move rushing towards the outside of the vehicle to prepare for what might be showing up soon. They used phones to illuminate the way, brilliant glimmers that turned the clearing floor into a dance of shadows and light.
Alice’s thoughts turned away from the small crowd of people working on opening up the gas tank and towards the surrounding forest. The sound hadn’t been too far away. How much time would they have?
In the corner of her eye, she saw the corpses. Her gut tightened and she couldn’t help but wonder whether this potential new threat was going to make more corpses.
A shout drew her attention back to the bus. One of the men had become drenched in gasoline as he’d stood in the wrong place when the cap had been opened. It was Victor, the fellow teacher, now entirely stinking of gasoline. Everyone rushed in to stop the flow before it could empty itself out, the man rushing away from everyone else and standing in the middle of the clearing, coughing loudly and trying to dry off.
“No one start any fire!” a voice called out.
The stench of gasoline lingered in the air.
Alice realized she welcomed the smell. Her nose had become numb to the stale air and blood inside the bus.
Alice’s eyes turned towards the gathered crowd as they did the best they could to soak rags with the flammable liquid.
Inside her mind, she could hear the pressure within the boiler climbing further up, a faint wheeze warning of its imminent fracture.