by Casey, Ryan
No.
There couldn’t be a coronal mass ejection. Or an electromagnetic pulse event.
It might be a possibility. But it wasn’t something that was actually going to happen.
It was something reserved for the realms of science-fiction.
Right?
What, just like the global pandemic?
He heard a few shouts, then. A few shouts off in the distance. Shouts of panic.
A girl, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide. Crouched by the side of a guy who looked like he’d passed out.
“He just collapsed!” she said. “When—when the lights went out. He just collapsed and—and I don’t think his heart’s beating. Someone help. I can’t ring an ambulance. Please!”
Max saw all the confusion turning to panic in an instant, as fireworks continued to explode above.
He looked around, away from the main square. Over towards the city centre.
Saw the taxis sitting there, unable to budge.
Drivers shouting to one another as they tried to get their phones working.
He saw the darkness, and he wondered…
Could it be?
Could it…
That’s when he heard it.
So sudden.
A screeching sound.
Something hurtling closer.
He looked around and saw it in slow motion.
Over by the train tracks, which stretched above this section of the city.
A train flying into the station.
All its lights off.
Not slowing down.
Not…
“It’s gonna crash!” someone shouted.
The next thing, Max saw a huge eruption of light.
Felt a wave of heat.
And then he heard the bang.
Chapter Twelve
New Year’s Day
00:00
* * *
First, total darkness.
Then, agony.
Aoife opened her mouth and gasped. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to anything. Her body ached everywhere. Even the slightest movement made her wince with pain. Her head banged with pain, like a thousand needles were shaking around in there every time she moved it. She could hear ringing, like an alarm siren, but she wasn’t sure if it was an alarm or if she’d hit her head. Hard.
Where was she? That’s the first thought she had. She had memories. Blurry memories. Memories of working on her university applications. Then memories of being out. In a nightclub. Partying. Wanting to get the hell out of there. Drinking. Being approached at the bar by a creep called Harry.
Then heading back. Jumping on the bus.
And then Harry getting on the bus and…
First, she remembered the way he’d spoken to her. She remembered his anger at her rejection. And she remembered what he’d said to her to piss her off. To make her swipe her nails into his face.
“You’re a nasty, ugly bitch. I only paid any attention to you because I felt sorry for you. Because of your break-up…”
But after that… there was a blank. Fireworks, darkness, and a blank.
She couldn’t remember what happened after that, and it scared her.
She opened her eyes again.
Her eyes were stinging like mad. It felt like she was staring into a bright light, but she soon realised she was surrounded by total darkness. She could hear something. Something like rustling. She could feel a warmth, too. A warmth that was getting warmer. And every single breath made her want to choke and vomit.
She looked around, tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was lying on the floor, on her side. Only there was ice beneath her. Loads of cracked ice all around her, only it didn’t feel cold. It felt…
She blinked a few times and soon realised she wasn’t lying on a bed of ice.
It was glass. Broken glass.
She looked around, and suddenly, her surroundings clicked; suddenly, she made sense of them.
She was still in the bus. Only the bus had flipped onto its side. She was lying on the smashed remains of the windows. Her hands were all cut, and there was something heavy pressing down on top of her.
She turned around to try and free herself from the weight above her when she realised exactly what it was.
Or rather, who it was.
It was Harry. The creep who’d asked to get her a drink in the bar then followed her onto the bus. His eyes were closed. His face was covered in thin streams of blood.
Aoife let out a scream. But screaming hurt and took what little energy she had out of her. Was he dead? Shit. There’d been a crash. There’d been some sort of crash, and she was trapped here. She was trapped and she was scared and…
Don’t worry. Stay calm. There’s been a crash, which means there’ll be ambulances here soon. They’ll help you out of this. They’ll free you. Don’t worry.
She breathed as deeply as she could, but she was shaking all over. Adrenaline surged through her system. She had to be careful moving too quickly or suddenly. God knows how many bones she’d broken, or worse. She remembered Auntie Carol telling her a story once about when Dad stepped on a nail going down to the basement in their old holiday cottage. How he felt this nasty pain but didn’t realise quite how bad it was until he saw the end of the nail poking out of it. And even then, he just thought he’d snapped a bit of it off. Not a full three-inch nail wedged right into the base of his foot.
She knew the most logical thing was to wait here. To take deep breaths and be patient. Even though she was terrified and even though she wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, she didn’t want to do any more damage on top of the damage she’d already done.
She lay there. Heart racing. Shaking. Harry lying on top of her, so heavy, so suffocating.
You’re going to be okay. Just take deep breaths. Just take deep breaths, stay calm, and everything is going to be okay…
She lay there for God knows how long. It felt like hours, but it could be minutes. And she didn’t hear any sirens. She didn’t hear any ambulances. Or any cars at all, for that matter.
She wanted to look out of the window, but she couldn’t see a thing because the bus was on its side. And she couldn’t turn around because of Harry’s weight on top of her. Why couldn’t she hear anything? Why wasn’t anyone coming to help her?
“Help!” she shouted, feeling pitiful and desperate. She never liked coming across as helpless or weak. She’d always preferred to fend for herself, to go her own way. Didn’t like to be too reliant on other people. Anyway, as aloof as it sounded, she usually knew best. Other opinions just held her back and dragged her down. Better to just trust her own instincts and do her own thing. It’d usually got her further in life.
But nobody responded.
She felt anger creeping in. A bus crash, right in a well-populated area, and nobody was coming to help her?
What the hell was happening out there?
She closed her eyes. Battled to keep calm.
But in the end, she couldn’t help herself; couldn’t resist.
“Someone, help!”
But again, her crackly, broken voice just echoed through the bus.
Echoed out into the darkness.
Into nothingness.
She felt tears in her eyes. Because despite everything, she wanted Jason here.
He’d know what to do.
He’d look after her.
He’d help her.
She imagined he was right here beside her, the weight of Harry’s body pressing down on her when she saw something flickering up ahead.
She lifted her head. Frowned.
When she realised what it was, her stomach turned.
There was a fire in the bus.
And it was coming her way.
Chapter Thirteen
Max heard the bang, saw the massive flash of light, and felt the earth-shattering, ground-shaking eruption of energy crash against him.
He was blinded very suddenly by bright light. The coldness o
f the New Year’s air suddenly became hot. It hurt to breathe. His ears rang. He swore he could hear screaming, but he wasn’t too sure.
Just the ringing in his ears, as he blinked, totally disoriented, trying to make sense of his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was and what the hell just happened.
He blinked a few times, tried to get his sight back, tried to see.
That’s when he saw it.
His vision returned. He could see something up above. Over by the train line, which ran over the section of the city they were in.
Something had happened.
A train. It’d collided into the station; smashed into another train.
And…
He stood there, and he froze completely.
The train above was burning away—badly. There were people in that train. People behind the windows. People banging against the glass, trying to escape. Struggling at the doors.
And as Max looked up there, all he could do was stand. All he could do was stare. There was nothing else he could do. Because those flames. They were so strong. And there were so many of them.
He wasn’t sure anyone could do a thing.
He looked on the ground around him. A woman lay on the road. Her head was bleeding, a large chunk of metal by her side, which had clearly detached and flown down towards her. More chunks of debris scattered around. Blood. People lying dead in the middle of the streets. A few security guards trying to control the situation, to abate the panic, but not doing a very good job.
They looked just as lost as everyone.
Just as panicked as everyone.
“We need an ambulance down here!” an old bloke shouted. “There’s—there’s so many injured. And that train.”
“We’d get an ambulance if we could ring ’em,” one of the security guards shouted.
Max looked around and saw a few police officers running down the street, then. But he could tell from the look on their faces and the fact they were on foot that they were just as lost as everybody here. They were just as confused as everybody here. As scared as everybody here.
And it began to dawn on him, as he stood there, that maybe his fears were right.
Maybe his suspicions were right.
Maybe this was exactly what it looked like.
He heard a scream over to the left. Looked around. Saw a woman and a baby on that train. The woman was holding the baby towards the window as the flames crept through it. Both of them were covered in blood.
And seeing them there, seeing the woman’s desperation… as much as Max knew, the safest and most logical thing to do right now was to get the hell away from here; there was no way he was turning away. There was no way he was turning his back on this woman. Not a cat in hell’s chance.
He tightened his jaw. His fists. Took a deep breath.
And then he raced towards the platform.
He ran. Ran past people who were collapsed on the side of the street. Ran through people struggling with their phones, trying to get them working all in vain. He ran, and he knew this was mad. He knew it was a suicide mission.
But that woman.
That woman with her baby…
He got a flash.
A flash back to the night he’d got back home from work.
The night he’d found Kathryn lying there, sitting against the kitchen island, in a pool of blood.
How she’d told him to save him.
David. Save him, Max. Save him.
And then racing into David’s bedroom and…
No.
He couldn’t go there.
He couldn’t think about that. Not now.
He ran up the stairs. People rushed past him, people covered in blood, people who had managed to escape the train.
“You don’t want to go that way, buddy,” an Asian guy said, cuts and bruises all over his face.
“I do,” Max said. “I’ve got to.”
He ran to the top of the platform; then, he crossed over. The closer he got to the train, the more he could feel that heat growing more and more intense, stronger and stronger. And the more he questioned whether this was what he really wanted to do.
But it wasn’t a case of “want.” It was a case of what he had to do.
And was there an element of making up for the past involved?
No.
He couldn’t think like that.
He just had to get to that window.
He had to get to that woman.
He had to save that kid.
He raced down the steps, passed more people who had managed to fight their way out of one of the train carriages. The heat was so hot. Searing. Like standing in the middle of a bonfire, let alone the side of one.
And the smoke, too. The smoke was getting thicker. Getting on his chest. A few people lay dead at the side of the platform.
And still there were no signs of medical crew.
Still, there were no signs of help.
He ran to the end of the platform. Then he clambered down onto the tracks, crossed over to the other side.
And then he ran down the side of the train, desperately searching for that woman and her child, desperately trying to find her again.
He looked through the train’s smoke-filled windows and saw all kinds of horrors. People lying dead already. People barely even recognisable as people anymore, especially with how twisted and contorted their bodies were.
So much blood.
So much death.
He kept running down the side of the train. He swore that woman had to be close. He kept on going and going, as much as he knew he needed to get away from here soon, as much as he knew he needed to get away—fast.
He kept going when he saw her.
She was standing at the window. Tears and blood streaming down her face.
Baby in her arms, crying.
“Please,” she begged as smoke filled the cabin. “Take him. Save him. Please.”
Max heard those words, and his whole world stood still.
Save him. Please.
Opening the bedroom door.
Finding…
No.
He pulled back his fist. Slammed it into the glass.
Then he punched again. Again. Again.
Kept on punching repeatedly.
He had to break through.
He had to help this kid.
And he had to help the kid’s mother, too, if he could.
He kept on going as the glass got hotter.
As the tracks started to creak and grow unsteady.
He kept on going as the flames grew taller.
As his escape route disappeared before his eyes.
He kept on punching, but he knew as he stared into this woman’s eyes that time was running out.
“Save him,” she spluttered. “Save him. Pl… please…”
That’s when the smoke swallowed the cabin up.
The pair of them disappeared.
And all Max could hear was that baby’s cry.
Chapter Fourteen
Aoife saw the flames inside the bus growing, and she knew there was no more time for calmness.
She had to get the hell out of here.
Fast.
She pushed against Harry’s body, which pinned her down. He was heavy. So much heavier than he looked. Bastard. She didn’t like the guy in the first place. Obviously wouldn’t wish anything like this on him. But she’d seen the look in his eyes before the bus crashed. That look of total detestation after she rejected him. Something made her think that he’d be staring down on her now, smiling at the fact that he’d had the last laugh after all.
But she couldn’t think like that. Right now, there was one thing on her mind.
She had to get out of this bus. Whether she was injured or not, and whether she did herself more damage or not. She couldn’t wait around here for help anymore. She’d waited long enough, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming to her aid, for whatever reason.
So she had to help herself
.
She saw herself as a child. Saw herself deep in the woods with her dad. Freezing cold. She heard him telling her that at some point in her life, she’d be alone. Whether physically or mentally, she’d feel cornered. And she’d be forced to work her way out of it, alone.
And whether it was physical or mental, the way of conquering any challenge was always the same.
Break down the task into smaller parts.
Focus on it pragmatically. One step at a time.
And do not lose your shit.
She took a deep breath. But that was a mistake right away because the smoke was already filling the bus. She looked around, her neck sore. Saw the opening at what was now the top of the bus, where the window was. She couldn’t tell from here if the glass was smashed or not, but she just had to hope it was. Because if it wasn’t…
No. Don’t get ahead of yourself. One step at a time, like Dad always said.
She closed her eyes and focused on the one task before her that she knew she needed to conquer before anything else.
And that was getting free of Harry’s body.
He was heavy, so it wasn’t going to be easy. Far heavier than her. Pinning her down to the point she could barely breathe, and breathing wasn’t an easy task anyway right now.
She tightened her fists. It was going to be tough. But she was going to have to use all the strength she had to get out of this.
She felt pinned down. Trapped. She didn’t know she had the strength to get out of this.
But she just had to focus on getting from underneath Harry.
And then she had to worry about the next step.
Couldn’t let the fire freeze her in her tracks before she’d even given herself a chance of getting out.
She tried to push herself up first. But she couldn’t do that. Not only because of Harry’s weight but also because of the pain she was feeling. The tightness in her back. Across her chest. And the dizziness she felt. Fuck. The last thing she wanted was to pass out right now. At least she had to give herself a chance of escaping.