But the guy wasn’t going down without a fight. In the end, it took six of them to get him on his stomach, with both the trucker and a burly guy sitting on top of him. The enraged guy continued to scream, spittle flying from his lips as he cursed at anyone who got too close.
“Don’t move,” the balding man said. “I’ve got a phone in my car. I’ll call the police.”
Michael glanced over at Joe, who was sitting on a rock by the side of his truck, his face pasty. A few other people had joined him, mostly women and the elderly couple. Everyone was making an effort to stay as far away from the insane man as possible. Although he was momentarily subdued, Michael didn’t blame them.
“Phone’s out,” the guy said, returning to the scene. He was holding an iPhone. “I’m getting a signal, but I can’t get through. Anyone else have one that works?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the trucker said. He nodded back in the direction behind them. “Cops are coming. I can see the flashers.”
In the distance, Michael could see the red and blue lights as the police car tried to make its way through the group of onlookers. It seemed a little strange; the accident covered all four lanes of traffic, but there were fewer than a dozen cars stopped along the road. Shouldn’t there be more? Where was everyone? Had the police already diverted traffic?
Someone pulled a blanket from their car and covered the dead man. Only, his body was too long, leaving the bottom part of his calves and his feet sticking out from under the plaid fabric. It couldn’t cover all the blood, either.
The police finally worked their way through the small crowd. Michael knew one of them, Clive Templeton, who had graduated from his high school only a few years earlier. Clive was the first to reach the scene. The other, Officer Burke, stopped to talk to the hyperventilating elderly couple.
“Everyone stand back,” Clive said. He talked with the balding guy and the trucker for a while. Michael didn’t get involved; he hadn’t seen anything different from the others. After a few minutes, Clive and Burke handcuffed the still-screaming man, grabbed him by the arms, and brought him up to his feet.
“Everyone can return to their cars,” Burke said. “There’s nothing more to see here.”
That didn’t seem right. Shouldn’t they be gathering information from the other bystanders? Michael was no criminal expert, but shouldn’t they have witness accounts for when this went to court? What if the guy pleaded not guilty? Stepping forward, he decided to offer up his phone number or something in case they needed him.
But the cops were ignoring him, pushing people back and away from the scene. The trucker got back in his cab and started up his engine. The balding guy came over to stand next to him.
“This is wrong,” Michael said.
“It’s strange all right,” the guy said.
“Shouldn’t they be doing more? I mean, there’s not even an ambulance here yet. What are they supposed to do with the body? Put it by the side of the road and hope the wild animals don’t eat it?”
The guy snorted. “Maybe they’ve got one on the way.”
“I hope so.” He turned to hold out his hand to the balding man. “I’m Michael.”
“Evans.” They shook hands. Evans handed him a business card with his name on it. “Just in case. You never know if you might need it.”
Clive wandered over to where they stood. “I said back to your car,” he snapped. He was wearing sunglasses, the mirrored kind; it was impossible to read his expression. “Don’t make me kick your ass, Mikey boy. School’s out.”
Michael put the card in his back pocket, nodded at Clive, and backed away. There was something creepy about not being able to see the man’s eyes. Evans appeared to be thinking the same thing; he turned and headed back to his car without so much as a wave of his hand.
Back at the truck, Joe was inside, twisting the key, but the engine wasn’t roaring to life.
“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “Musta broke something when we hit the ditch. It ain’t starting.”
“Great.” Michael looked back at the officers. What would their reactions be? Most of the crowd had dispersed; a few people were putting their cars in gear and pulling back onto the highway. The trucker was gone, the tail end of his cargo disappearing around the bend. Evans waited at the side of the road, sitting behind the wheel, watching the officers. They were holding on to the enraged man, speaking to him in low voices. The guy didn’t look so angry anymore. His complexion was pale, eyes wide. He was trembling.
“I said, get back in your vehicles,” Burke said, walking over to the truck. He swung his weapon around until it was aimed right at Michael’s head. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you, kid.”
Michael’s legs quivered as his body temperature dropped. He didn’t know how to respond. What words could he use to get that gun away from his face? He opened his mouth twice, but nothing came out. “Our truck’s not working,” he finally muttered, pointing a hand over in Joe’s direction. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the gun.
“That’s not my problem,” Burke said.
Evans’s car pulled up beside them. “Come with me,” the balding man said. “I’ll give you both a ride home.”
Burke nodded toward Evans, signaling that they should take the offer. Lowering his weapon, he turned his back and returned to where Clive held the handcuffed man. Michael glanced at Joe, who wasn’t waiting to be asked twice. They both climbed into the car, Joe stuffing his lanky body into the backseat.
“Thanks.” Michael rolled down his window as Evans started to pull away from the scene. As they distanced themselves, he watched the scene gradually growing smaller in the side mirror. They got only about fifty feet away when it happened.
Officer Burke was holding on to the driver one moment; the next he simply let go. The handcuffed man stood there for a few seconds, looking between the cops and the woods. Michael saw Clive give him a hard push.
“What the hell?” Michael turned in his seat. Evans slammed on the brakes as the motorcycle killer ran, hands still cuffed behind his back, straight for the tree line.
He never got a chance. Burke raised his gun, aimed, and shot the man before his feet left the pavement. The guy flew forward, hitting the ground and rolling several times before coming to a stop at the bottom of the ditch.
“He just shot that guy,” Joe blurted.
“Get us out of here, now,” Michael said to Evans, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. Inside, his thoughts were screaming. From behind them, Clive turned his gun toward them and pulled the trigger.
“Get down,” Evans shouted as he slammed his foot on the gas.
The rear window shattered, spraying Joe with glass. He ducked, even as Evans pulled away, spinning tires and leaving smoking black marks on the pavement.
They spent the next five minutes driving at top speed, but it didn’t look like the police officers were going to give chase. Eventually Evans slowed the car down to a reasonable pace.
Michael found his phone in his pocket but paused when he realized he had no idea who he should call. If he dialed 911 would anyone believe them? He’d just witnessed the entire thing and he couldn’t quite understand what happened. He punched the numbers into the phone anyway, but all he got was a busy signal. He tried a second time. Then a third. This time he got a recording: There are too many people trying to get through—please dial again. What the hell was going on? He’d never heard of 911 being busy before. Who else was there? Dad was in Denver on business, and he couldn’t think of any reason for actually calling him except he was terrified. Finally he dialed Dad’s number regardless, but the call didn’t go through. He didn’t even get an out-of-service message.
“Phone’s not working,” he said.
“Radio’s out too,” Evans said. “I can’t get any of the stations. I can’t even get dead air. It’s weird. Maybe the trees?”
“We always get radio here,” Joe said. “There’s a broadcasting tower not too far away.”
&nbs
p; “Then it’s something else,” Evans said.
They drove along in silence for a bit. Joe kept busy picking bits of glass off the backseat and tossing them out the window. Finally he raised his head and looked around bewilderedly. “I need to get home,” he said. “Mom’s gonna pitch a fit when she finds out I left the truck behind.”
“We’re sure as hell not going back to get it,” Michael said.
“It’s our only car, too,” Joe said. “The Jeep’s in the shop. Dad took it in this morning for a brake job. I’m supposed to drive him back there tonight to pick it up.”
“They’ll understand.”
“I don’t know. Dad was in a real pissy mood this morning. He was acting weird.”
“Let’s just worry about getting home in one piece.”
“I can drop you off,” Evans said. “Where are you from?”
“Whitefish,” Michael said.
“I know where that is. I’m staying at the hotel there.”
“Thanks.”
It didn’t take long to get back to town. Michael gave Evans directions, and they pulled up to Joe’s house first. He got out without saying a word and headed up the steps to his front porch. He was in shock. Michael didn’t blame him. Had they really just witnessed both a murder and an execution?
When Evans pulled into the driveway in front of Michael’s apartment, the building was quiet. What had he been expecting? Flashing blue and red lights? Would Clive and Burke come back for him? He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t think they knew where he lived, but that didn’t really mean much. They were cops, after all. They’d find him if they wanted to.
Evans must have read his mind. “If they come back for you, I’m staying at the Super Eight. Room six-fourteen. Come and find me if you need help.”
Michael nodded and got out of the car. As he watched the balding man drive off, his hand closed around the business card in his back pocket.
ARIES
The stranger was less squeamish about moving among the dead. As he worked his way across the bus, he stopped every few feet to reposition the bodies in order to see their faces. Aries struggled along behind him, trying to keep her balance. There weren’t many free spots to put her feet. She didn’t want to accidentally step on anyone’s arm or fingers—or, even worse, someone’s face—and the thought that one wrong movement might send her tumbling down onto the pile of bodies terrified her. So she followed the stranger carefully, stepping where he stepped, and held on to the seat frames as tightly as possible.
He picked up someone by his jacket and shoved him aside. Underneath were more bodies. They were piled on top of one another like a collapsed cheerleading pyramid. He reached out his hand and checked the pulse on someone’s wrist. “This one’s still alive.”
Aries strained to see who the hand belonged to, but she couldn’t tell in the mass of clothing and bodies. Her hopes were dashed when the stranger moved aside someone’s backpack and revealed the face of a middle-aged woman.
“Should we carry her outside?” She’d taken first aid years ago in school but couldn’t remember the proper steps. You weren’t supposed to move people in case they had neck injuries, but wasn’t staying there worse? It was dangerous leaving them in the middle of the road where another car might hit them. What if a gas leak happened and the bus exploded? Aren’t you supposed to get them out of harm’s way?
“No,” he said. “We’ll leave her here.”
“When do you think the ambulance will come?”
The stranger climbed to his feet and brushed his hands against his jeans, leaving behind a smear of blood. Continuing forward, he avoided looking at her. “There won’t be an ambulance.”
Aries froze. “What do you mean?”
“The entire city was just destroyed. The roads are torn apart. Thousands of people are dead or dying. Do you really believe help will come?”
“But they’ve got to come.”
“They don’t have to do anything.”
“These people will die.”
The stranger glanced back at her over his shoulder. “And so will millions of others. What’s a few more?”
“What do you mean millions?”
“This went farther than just Vancouver. Seattle, Los Angeles, Mexico. Even Alaska if we look in the other direction. A lot of people live on the West Coast. But it’s not just North America. An earthquake of this magnitude probably reached Asia.”
“Oh.”
The stranger continued on, shuffling bodies aside, checking the occasional pulse. He was several feet away, almost to the back of the bus.
Aries knelt at the feet of the middle-aged woman, who was barely alive. She placed her hand against the lady’s forehead, trying to think about what she could do to save her life. The small amount of training she’d received years ago was not enough to help her in such a situation. She knew how to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and that was it. She picked up the woman’s limp hand and squeezed it gently, seeking something comforting to say. Even in her unconscious state, the lady still might be able to hear.
“I think I found your friend.”
He was standing at the back of the bus and she couldn’t see where he was looking. Getting to her feet, she loosened her fingers, allowing the hand of the dying woman to drop to the ground, and went for Sara instead.
“Is she dead?”
The stranger looked away too quickly. That was all the answer she needed. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she breathed in deeply to try and hold back the sobs. Holding tightly to the mangled seat, she focused on maintaining balance and blinked several times to keep the tears from blurring her vision. She was determined to remain calm. She would not fall apart on the bus in front of this stranger. There would be plenty of time later once she was alone. She would be brave.
“You don’t have to look,” he said, seeing through her facade. His eyes softened. “If you’ve got a picture, I can identify her for you.”
She almost accepted, but she knew if she didn’t look she’d regret it. “No, I’m fine.” She took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to three inside her head. Opening her eyes, she focused on the image before her.
The person lying on the ground, her neck shoved awkwardly against the mangled seats, was Sara. Her eyes were open, staring at the ads for résumé building and continuing education. One hand rested gently on her chest, the other disappeared beneath her body. Legs splayed in different directions. Blood dribbled from her mouth, already starting to cake and dry. Her neck twisted and unnatural, bits of blond hair stuck against her bloodied face.
Why did her eyes have to be open?
“That’s her,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” the stranger said.
How long would it be before someone could take Sara away? She would have to call Sara’s parents. Maybe they could find a way to come and get her if they were okay. They didn’t live that far away. She took her cell phone from her pocket, but there was no service. That didn’t really surprise her; the earthquake would have temporarily destroyed all means of communication.
She’d have to walk, then. If she left now she could get there in a few hours. But was it safe to leave Sara alone? What if someone did something to her body? She caught the dead glaze of her friend’s eyes, accusing her, begging her not to leave.
“Can you close her eyes?”
She was thankful that he didn’t smirk or give her a look. Instead he reached over and ran the tips of his fingers against Sara’s skin, closing those beautiful gray eyes forever.
“Thank you.”
“We should go. It’s not safe to stay here.”
“Can we cover her up with something?” She felt stupid the moment the words left her lips. “I mean, it just seems wrong leaving her like that.”
The stranger unzipped his jacket. Carefully he placed the clothing over her deceased friend. It covered only her face and shoulders, but it made Aries feel better. At the same time she worried about the g
uy. He had on only a shirt now, and although it was still September it was starting to get chilly. She could see his muscles against the tight fabric. His arms were pale and bare; she wanted to feel them around her again. Comforting. The thought warmed her cheeks and she looked away in embarrassment.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I know.”
“You’ll be cold.”
“I’ll be fine.”
There were a few more bodies to check, but in the end, Aries and the stranger got off the bus by themselves. Everyone there was dead, dying, or unable to move. There was nothing they could do to help, so they left. It seemed wrong, but there weren’t any right answers to hand in.
The first thing she noticed when they got back outside was how different the air smelled. There was no brisk night air smelling faintly like leaves and car exhaust. There was a sickening acrid flavor that stuck to the insides of her nostrils, threatening to make her gag. In the distance, the skyline was orange and red from where a fire raged. Monstrous black clouds of smoke rapidly spread through the night, pushed by the wind. Bits of ash fell from above and stuck to their hair. Gray snowflakes.
“Can you hear it?” the stranger asked. He stood, arms at his side, eyes closed, face pointed up toward the sky.
“Hear what?” She strained her ears but there was no unusual noise.
“The nothingness. No fire trucks, ambulances, police cars. No people, cars, stereos, televisions, computers. All the things we use to replace the silence of loneliness. All the distractions we buy that fill up the empty voids inside our souls. It’s all gone.”
“Are you saying our souls are empty?”
“No, I’m saying they’ve been filled.”
“With what?”
The stranger smiled at her. “Humanity has found a cure to a disease they never knew existed.”
“You sound just like the crazy man on the bus.”
The smile faltered. “Sorry. I was just thinking out loud.”
She gave him a long look but couldn’t really see anything wrong with him. He didn’t look like he was crazy, not in the way the guy on the bus was. He was clean and dressed nicely. His black hair was freshly washed and shiny. There was a seriousness about him and he moved gracefully. He reminded her of some of the others she knew from drama class. He probably read a lot of literary fiction, maybe wrote stories while reciting Dylan Thomas poetry from heart.