Into the Dawn

“Girls, this is Molly. She’ll be joining you on your trip.”

I surveyed the bus. About 20 or so teenagers stared back. A girl sitting on a bench a couple of rows down waved cheerily, her black hair bouncing around her face. Someone giggled towards the back. I sucked in an anxious breath, wishing I was sitting down, out of sight.

“C’mon Molly”, said the warden. I shuffled forwards, twisting the tight handcuffs behind my back. The warden put them on too tight. He always put them on too tight.

“This is good.” The warden nudged me and I swung onto the bench behind the girl with curly hair. The warden stooped down in the aisle next to me and I tried not to gag at the oppressive stench of aftershave. He unlocked one cuff and fed it through a metal loop affixed to the back of the bench in front of me. I winced as the man shackled my wrist again, clicking the cuff too small. I felt suspicious eyes tingling on my neck and, looking around, I realized I was the only one wearing handcuffs. The warden patted me hard on the shoulder, like someone pressing on their front door to make sure it was locked and walked to the front of the bus.

“As you all know, we’ll be visiting the Art Institute of Chicago, so you better be on your best behavior.” The warden stared out at the orange-clad girls, the eggshell fragility of his friendly smile conveying that if they so much as spoke too loud, they’d end up with Taser prongs between their shoulder blades. “We’ll be staying at a motel tonight and tomorrow, and then coming back to the detention center on Monday. This trip is a privilege, and if I or any of the guards catch you abusing that privilege, there will be serious consequences. Understood?” The girls nodded and muttered a “yes sir”. I rubbed the sore, sweaty flesh underneath the cuffs and let my eyes drift to the window as the bus lurched forward.

The Assimilation Vacation. A fun way to get messed up kids to appreciate the arts and society once again in hopes that we’d grow up into cultured and productive members of society. If I messed up on this trip, I would get put back in solitary. Not as bad as real prison solitary, but it was pretty lonely.

“Hey,” hissed the curly haired girl, throwing her arm over the back of her seat to look at me. “I’m Samantha. What’re you in for?”

“Face the front, please,” said the warden. Samantha huffed and twisted back around. Relieved, I gazed out the window again, letting the green trees melt and blur against the glass. I heard a rustle from Samantha’s bench as the girl scooted close to the window to look back at me.

“Look, I don’t want to talk, okay?” I muttered.

“At least tell me your name. Please?” said Samantha. I ignored her and let my eyes trace a thick white vapor trail through the clear sky. Samantha sighed and turned back around.

“I feel like I know you” she whispered loudly. “I recognize you from somewhere. But I can’t remember.” She stared at me, biting her lip. I looked away and the chain of the handcuffs clinked against the metal ring. Samantha’s eyes flashed.

“The Curt trials a year ago! You’re Molly Curt!” I flushed as I felt the whole bus shifting to get a look at me. “That’s why you’re wearing –“

“Sit down, Samantha,” the warden growled. Samantha glared at me and swiftly turned around. Great, now everybody was going to hate me, although I couldn’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t.

For the next hour, I kept my gaze away from the other girls, rubbing my raw wrists. Our side of the highway seemed strangely empty, as opposed to the wild rush of traffic streaming out of the city. Through the blur of trucks, I watched as hitchhikers paced along the road, waving their thumbs desperately at the outgoing traffic. Halfway through the drive, the country station the bus driver was tapping her fingers erupted into static. The old lady confusedly turned dials but it never came back on. The anxious knot in my stomach churned more and more as we neared the city. Something was wrong.

The bus groaned past the city limit sign. It was immediately apparent that my suspicions were true. Droves of cars spilled onto the sidewalk, haphazardly perched on the curbs, doors hanging open, the driver’s seats vacant. Dark, rusty stains contrasted with the concrete and a gray haze suffocated the sky. Caught up in the surrealism of the moment, the bus driver took her foot off the gas, allowing the vehicle to sputter to a stop. I pulled against the handcuffs and craned my head to take in the view. There was nobody in sight. A faint siren wailed on the other side of the city like a lone wolf trying to find its pack. The warden knelt down towards the bus driver and murmured something into her ear with stoic confusion. Nodding at the warden’s words, the bus driver picked up her radio and clicked it on. Static. Garbled speech. Then, a scream, high and shuddering, whined through the speaker. The bus driver jumped. The radio clattered to the floor. Another scream, this time from the back of the bus, echoed off the metal dome. I whipped my head around. Though the rear window a massive, spidery shape loped steadily towards the bus, limbs flailing, a gaping hole prickling with bone-white, jagged teeth, a bloody lump of flesh clutched in in one of its clawed hands.

“Holy-” the warden gasped, the rest of his words lost as the bus lurched into motion. Over the roar of the engine a raw, unearthly howl rattled the windows. The creature was fast, as fast as the bus, and even though I was in the front row, I could see every detail of the mottled gray scales glistening with blood, of the mess of bony, sharp arms, of the head like a battering ram, mouth dripping saliva. It galloped closer and closer, claws stretching to grab hold of the bus, to tear away the thin metal, to rip us apart like we were paper dolls. I turned away and closed my eyes, willing the bus to gain speed and leave this nightmare-scape behind.

Thud. Something hit the bus, not from behind but from above. The vehicle tipped sideways with the extra weight and the driver jerked the wheel to the right, trying to shake whatever it was off. Metallic rasps traced a path towards the front of the bus. Black fingers spread like cracks over the windshield and the warden opened fire. Glass shattered. The bus swerved, avoiding an abandoned pickup truck by a few inches.

“What the hell are these things?!” yelled the warden. He shot at the window again but the monster didn’t retreat.

The girls screamed, hysterical with fear. Samantha was finally speechless, her eyes following the movement of the monsters, lips trembling. I looked ahead to the driver as a clawed hand curled around the jagged hole where the warden’s bullet had shattered the windshield. The bus driver paled as she noticed it snaking towards her. Ahead on the road a minivan squealed around a corner into the bus’s path. A scream of warning tingled on my tongue, but shock paralyzed my throat.

The bus slammed into the side of the van with a hot metallic shriek, steel warping and crumpling like foil. I pitched forward and the bridge of my nose cracked unnervingly against the hard plastic seat, the force of the blow sending bright sparks dancing under my eyelids. The warden hit the dashboard with a wet thud, and flew out the broken windshield, body limp. Another otherworldly screech ripped through the atmosphere as the monster on the roof of the bus was jolted to the ground. Both creatures disappeared into a dank alleyway, fleeing from the flames of the ruined minivan. The wreck skidded to a stop against a gas station, smoking and burning. I watched Samantha breathe shallowly as blood trickled out of a gash on her forehead. We waited. The roar of flames quieted into a hushed murmur. The bus driver slumped back her seat, unmoving.

“Are they gone?” Samantha murmured. The girl across from me shakily nodded. Samantha placed her palms on her window and pushed upwards. “It’s locked,” she said dully.

“Of course it is,” hissed another girl. “We’re on a prison bus.”

“I’m going to check the door” said the girl next to me. Bracing against the backs of the benches, she approached the front of the bus. She hesitantly grabbed the lever beside the unconscious bus driver and pulled down slowly. Like a sigh of relief, the hinged door hissed open.

The girls crept from their seats and sneaked out the door. Samantha was the last to leave and she turned back to look at me, her eyes glinting with strange emotion. It seemed as though she was going to say something, but she stepped outside and ran after the rest.

I bowed my head. I wasn’t going to get off of the bus. The handcuffs held me tight. I pulled on them, but the chain stayed strong. Blood from my broken nose dripped onto my orange jumpsuit. It was fitting, I thought, that I’m going to die chained up in a hot, sticky prison bus. What comes around goes around, I guess.

Outside the bus, something growled. I froze, not daring to see what made the sound, willing it to be my imagination. Another growl, low and guttural rattled against my ribs. Tentatively, I twisted my neck a few degrees. In my peripheral, my window darkened with black scales and many legs. I clenched my teeth. The bus creaked with the monster’s weight. An oppressive stench of rot overpowered my senses. I’m going to die.

Directly above my head, the steel dome began to buckle, the flimsy metal splitting and peeling downwards. There was a flash of white, and the metal screamed in agony as the monster ripped the bus open. It slinked inside. I held my breath as the creature perched on the benches ahead of me. With a crunch like breaking bone, the blue plastic of Samantha’s bench cracked down the middle. Alerted by the noise, the monster gazed blindly at me. I closed my eyes against the mound of limbs and muscle and teeth, expecting to be eviscerated at any second. The only sounds were the delicate patter of blood from my nose dripping onto my seat and the muted rumble of the creature’s chest. I could feel hot breath brushing against my cheeks. Then, after eons, the monster turned away and climbed to the front of the bus. I heard a sickening crunch of what I assumed was the bus driver, and then the monster crawled back out through its hole. I waited until its skittering footsteps faded and slowly cracked my eyes open. My heart swelled as I discovered that the crack in the seat passed over the imbedded ring I was attached to. Tentatively, I pulled on my handcuffs. The screw fell out of the plastic and the metal ring clattered against my bench. I was free.

I rose uncertainly and walked up the aisle to the open door. The warden lay broken on the sidewalk, head twisted, dripping blood on to the ground. His eyes, glassy and still, reflected the gold of the setting sun. I knelt next to his body. Inside his breast pocket was a ring of keys. Wincing slightly, I selected the smallest one, pressed it into the lock and the handcuffs clicked open.

A faint gurgle came from the ruined minivan. I whipped my head around in panic, expecting to see a hideous monster crawling over the roof of the car, but nothing was there. Whatever it was gurgled again and began to cry. A baby? Cautiously, I pushed the broken slider door. In a backwards facing car seat lay a tiny, pale, wrinkled infant. When it saw me, it twisted up its little face and howled snot and saliva running down its chin, cheeks patchy and red, balled-up fists flailing. It was beautiful. How could something so fragile have survived such a horrific crash? The baby’s parents were limp and bloody in the front seat, their heads lolling back. I lifted the baby from its seat and cradled it to my chest. I felt its rapid heart beating like that of a sparrow against my ribs. It smelled faintly of boiled cabbage and talcum powder.

“I guess we’re on our own now,” I whispered. The baby whimpered. Behind blood-streaked clouds, the sun sank into the horizon, promising to rise with a new day. In the distance, a familiar shriek echoed against the desolate walls of the fallen city. I held the baby close and began to run.