The bus wheels screamed as they completed their arc, leaving lines of black behind them. Concrete barriers edged the on-ramp. The bus hit the blockades on the outer side, rattling its occupants, then it was free and running down the slope to the ground below.
For a second, fields were visible in the distance, then the trees rose to block the view. The forest still surrounded them. The engine roared as they entered a narrow road surrounded by craggy growth and leaf litter, not much different from the road they’d left twenty minutes before.
Get out of the trees. Get out of the trees—
A shape lurched out of the forest to their left—a hollow one, massive and bloated, folds of skin swollen with fat or fluids. If it had been upright, it would have been at least ten feet tall. It lumbered on all fours, its body rocking wildly, its vacant eyes gazing into the distance as a bellow came from its slack jaw.
Beth yelled. She hit the brakes, throwing Clare forward in her seat. The crawler collided the bus near the door, and Clare was jerked back. The momentum that had been an advantage moments before robbed them of control. The bus fishtailed again, front wheels spinning off the road. Beth swore. She swung the wheel, trying to correct them, but the road was dirt and offered precious little traction. The bus nearly completed a full revolution, and Clare thought they might actually make it out of the encounter. Then the front wheels left the edge of the road. The bus tilted down as they plunged into the ditch, branches fracturing against their windshield, bringing them to a grinding halt.
Chapter Twenty
The crawler hadn’t made it out of the collision unscathed. It rolled across the path, limbs clawing up the dirt as it bellowed, pus seeping out of a split in its bulbous chest. Then it gained its feet under itself and lurched across the road, disappearing back into the forest.
Clare was panting, leaned back in her seat, both arms pressed against the chair ahead, every muscle tight. Her head throbbed, pulsing red and black across her vision. Her neck ached. But otherwise, she thought she was okay.
At her side, Dorran stared ahead, eyes wide. He looked shocked—not at what had happened but at the fact that they were still alive.
For a heartbeat, none of them moved. Then Beth slowly turned in her seat. Patches of hair had come free from the tie and hung about her face. A line of red traced over her forehead and dripped into her eyebrow; the impact had thrown her forward and cut her. She didn’t seem to notice it. “Clare? Baby? You okay?”
“I’m good,” Clare managed. She was pretty sure she had whiplash. And possibly a mild concussion, if the throbbing headache was anything to go by. But that wouldn’t kill her. The thanites would take care of it all in a matter of days.
Beth’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then she added, her voice faint, “Dorran?”
“Fine.” His voice was remarkably calm, in the way that only Dorran could sound. His arms remained ahead of himself, holding onto the seats in front for support, as though frozen. Clare realised she was still in the same position, elbows locked and hands braced. She tried to let go but stopped when she felt herself slide.
Her world was tilted. The bus hung at an angle. Not enough to throw her out of her seat but enough that the floor was no longer flat. The bus’s rear wheels would have to be in the air. The front was buried into the bracken and dead branches of the trees ahead of them.
Clare tried to moisten her mouth. It tasted of fear and smoke. “Beth… the fire…”
“Right. Yeah.” Beth turned back to face the wheel. They would have time to collect themselves and lick their wounds once they were out of the fire’s path. The engine still rumbled. No matter what other damage the hollow had done, it hadn’t been enough to kill the minibus.
Beth shifted into reverse. The bus shuddered as it tried to climb out of the ditch, but they made it no more than a couple of inches before sliding back down, wheels spinning. Beth swore. She pushed harder, until the engine roared and the shuddering made their luggage shake in its compartments.
“Stop.” Dorran’s voice was soft and without anger but held an intent focus.
Beth eased off the accelerator.
“The bus isn’t going to move. Continuing will only dig ruts under the wheels.”
Beth swore with more conviction. She put them into park. “We can’t stay here.”
Dorran’s seatbelt clicked as he unfastened it, and before Clare knew what was happening, he’d climbed over her. He used the seats for support as he skidded towards the bus’s front. “Do you have a shovel?”
“Yeah. In the outside compartment.”
“Good.” He forced the door open and disappeared outside. His words were mild, and his voice was gentle, but Clare knew him too well to think that translated into complacency. He was moving with the sharp urgency of a crisis.
She struggled with her own seatbelt, fighting against numb fingers. The second it unfastened, she tried to jog towards the bus’s front. She underestimated the angle, lost her balance, and hit the dashboard with a grunt. Beth was already in the open door and offered her hand to Clare. Together, they stepped outside.
The smoke was suffocating. Clare pressed her sleeve across her mouth, her eyes burning, her throat convulsing. She caught a glimpse of the damage as she clambered over fallen branches and rocks to reach the bus’s front. The hollow one had left a wicked dent beside the door and fractured one of the plyboards screwed over the windows. The freeway hadn’t shown them mercy either; both sets of headlights were gone, and although the vehicle’s structural integrity wasn’t compromised, the metal wedge they had used as a plough was covered in dents.
Clare raised her head. The sky was full of ravenous oranges and poisonous blacks. The fire roared. It sounded like a plane flying overhead, except instead of growing fainter, it grew louder with every second. Sparks mingled with the falling ash.
Get out of the trees, her mind screamed. Get out of the trees!
She turned in a circle, her head pounding and her body overridden with panic. They were in the depths of the forest. For a wild second, she wanted to grab her companions’ hands and run with them along the road, aiming for the fields, but that would be tantamount to suicide. There were no clearings within running distance. Their only chance was to drive—and drive fast.
Dorran crouched at the bus’s front. He had one shoulder against the metal, testing, seeing if he could push the bus out of the ditch through sheer force. The structure creaked as he lifted, but it didn’t move. He released the pressure, and as he stepped back, he swiped his hand across his jaw. A smear of red came away from his nose. “We need to get wood under the wheels. Quickly.”
The instruction took a second to sink in, then Clare shot into action. At least that was one small mercy; there was no shortage of wood in the forest.
Dorran used the shovel to clear loose dirt away from the front tyres and jam branches under them. As Clare dropped a load at his side, she turned to face the forest. A strange noise came from between the trees. It was pitched higher than the fire’s roar. And closer.
A hollow burst out of the tree line. Clare barely had time to react. Her back hit the bus, and she raised her arms defensively. Beth appeared out of nowhere, stepping between Clare and the hollow, teeth bared and eyes wild.
The creature darted aside a second before collision. It galloped along the bus’s side and across the road then disappeared into the forest on the other side. Clare cautiously lowered her arms. She had never seen a hollow willingly relinquish a meal before.
The large hollow, the one that hit the bus and forced us off the road… it wasn’t trying to attack us, either, was it?
The impact had been too sudden to be planned. The hollow’s eyes hadn’t even been focussed on them; it had been staring blankly into the distance. And it had scrambled away after it derailed them, not even stopping to examine the bus.
It’s the fire. They’re fleeing, just like we are.
More shapes darted out of the tree line. Clare stared in wonder as hol
lows flowed around them, not even sparing the humans a glance. Jaws hung open. Eyes stared vacantly. They were terrified.
Dorran stepped away from the wheels. His breaths sounded painful as he threw the shovel aside, dark eyes darting across his work, scanning for weaknesses. “Clare, take the driver’s seat. Be ready to reverse on my signal.”
She nodded, mouth too dry to speak.
“Beth, get behind the bus. Hold onto something at its back; try to use your body weight to pull it down.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll stay here and push.”
Beth glanced at the horizon. It was growing bright. “Swap with me. You’re heavier.” Dorran opened his mouth to argue. Beth put a hand on his arm and shoved him away. “Don’t worry. I’ve got strength. Maybe more than even you.”
He gave a single, tight nod and left at a jog. Clare jumped through the bus’s open door, staggered on the uneven floor, and dropped into the driver’s seat. It was her first time piloting the minibus, but if Beth had figured out the controls, she could as well.
More hollows were racing out of the forest’s edge. She caught flashes of wild eyes and faces twisted with pure terror. Their chattering, screeching cries rose in volume.
Beth shed her jacket and braced her hands against the bus’s front. The cut on her forehead continued to bleed, dripping over her eyebrow and staining her chin. The bus groaned, and Clare knew Dorran had found his grip at the back. Beth gave her a small nod, and Clare pulled the gearstick into reverse.
The engine rattled. She lightly touched the accelerator, testing it, and felt the vehicle shudder as it sought purchase. Beth put her head down, feet braced, and pushed. Her only form of exercise before the stillness had been yoga, and Clare would have never labelled her as physically strong. Now, defined muscles tightened like ropes under her skin. Her body curled, all sleek, raw power, and the metal groaned under her hands.
The bus shuddered backwards in fractions. One inch then two. Clare gave it slightly more energy. One of the branches they’d used for traction was spat aside, and the wheel began to spin. But they were tilting back. Metal creaked as the bus’s structure was strained beyond what it had been designed to handle. Then the tyres caught on the edge of the road. The back wheels touched down.
Beth lifted her head. Victory twisted her features into those of a monster. Her eyes were too angular. Her mouth too wide. Clare’s foot twitched on the accelerator, and the bus shot backwards.
She slammed on the brakes, panic stabbing into her nerves. Dorran was still behind the bus. Did I hit him? Would I have felt it if I had?
She was at the open door before she could breathe. Dorran appeared at the bus’s side, jogging towards her, and Clare’s legs turned weak. “Are you okay—”
“Of course.” An easy smile, so beautifully familiar, warmed his face. His arm slipped around her, and he pulled her back onto the bus, not even breaking stride. They had barely cleared the entryway before Beth leapt up behind them, slamming the door.
“Move.” She shoved past them to reach the driver’s seat. “We’ve already lost too much time.”
Beth’s face looked familiar again. The angles were a little harder, and the scars were a constant reminder of what the stillness had done to her, but behind them was the same Beth she had always known. The Beth from outside the bus had not been familiar. It was as though a mask had slipped over her sweet features.
A horrible suspicion rose: that Beth did have a mask. That she wore it constantly. That, in that moment she had been outside of the bus, she had let it slip.
Clare had come to a halt. Dorran’s hand rested on her back, a silent question that she had no way to answer. She moved automatically, retracing the path along the aisle. The bus began to move before she had a chance to reach her seat.
Dorran didn’t sit next to her, like she’d expected. He continued along the aisle to reach the bottled water. She watched with growing concern. His movements remained steady, but getting the bus back onto the road had drained him. The wash he’d taken that morning was undone by a layer of soot and dirt. His breathing was rough. He was running on empty.
“Come and sit,” Clare said. “If you need something, I’ll find it.”
“Just one moment.” The exhaustion was starting to bleed into his voice. He found dishtowels in the compartments, cracked open the bottle, and used it to dampen a cloth. Then he crossed back to Clare. “Here. It will filter the worst of the smoke.”
Dorran helped tie the fabric around the lower half of her face. Just the touch alone was a balm; the heat was increasing, the humidity evaporating, and Clare’s airways were scorched dry. She pressed the damp fabric over her mouth and nose, grateful for the relief.
The bus rocked as Beth took a sharp turn. Dorran caught himself on the seats. The view outside the window changed; they were still surrounded by trees on both sides, but now the boughs held flames. Sparks danced around their bus, spiralling on the heated air like vivid red snowflakes. The spot fires were small but many, and growing on both sides of them. Black smoke flowed across the road. Clare couldn’t stifle a dread-filled moan.
Dorran stared at the flickering, blurred scene then drenched a second towel in water. He approached Beth and moved to tie it around her face. She held up a hand to block him. “I don’t need it.”
“It will help—”
“Nope. Get back to your seat.”
Her voice was raspy. But, unlike Clare and Dorran, she didn’t seem to be fighting the urge to cough. The thanites had to be protecting her throat from the smoke, or, what Clare thought was more likely, they dulled the sensation.
Dorran tied the cloth around his own face and lurched into the seat beside Clare. She found his hand, more from reflex than clear thought, and he enveloped it in both of his.
The flames on either side of the road were becoming more frequent, swallowing entire clumps of trees. Deep crackling made itself heard above the bus’s engine. Perspiration evaporated as soon as it beaded on Clare’s exposed skin, but underneath her jacket, she was drenched.
This isn’t the worst yet. The blaze she’d seen on the horizon wasn’t slow moving or made up of spot fires. It was an inferno, a wall of fire, consuming everything in its path.
Beth drove like hell itself was on their heels. Tyres shrieked as she clipped the bends on the winding road. They had to be moving towards the farmland; Clare had seen it from the freeway. But every turn only exposed more trees. Burning, alive with twisting reds and whites, the leaves curled under the onslaught of sparks.
Then they cleared a hill, and the trees vanished. Farmland spread out ahead of them. Fields of grey weeds, neglected before the silence then killed by the snow, were already smoking as sparks ignited the flammable stalks. Not far past was a segment of dead grass. It had been kept well-trimmed, possibly by cattle, and Beth’s gaze fixed on it. They roared past the smoking fields. A fence made of wood posts and barbed wire blocked their path, but that was the least the bus had been through that day. Beth veered off the narrow road, rocking them as they tilted down the shallow incline, and pointed the bus straight at the fence. Splinters of wood burst past the windshield. A line of barbed wire managed to hang on, dragging posts out of the ground behind them, before snapping free. Beth didn’t stop moving until the bus ground to a halt in the field’s centre.
“Will this be enough?” she asked Dorran.
He swallowed. “I hope so.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Beth was out of her seat in a heartbeat. Clare held the cloth tightly against her face as she and Dorran rose. The front windshield held a view of the farmhouses dotting the fields and the distant rooftops of the town, but they were rapidly being swallowed by a blanket of black smoke.
Clare stepped towards the window and suddenly felt dizzy. Beth had parked at an angle where the forest was visible to their left. The trees were vanishing under the roaring wall of white and red. It was advancing on them, slicing through the forest fa
ster than she had imagined was possible, raw and beautiful and brutal all at once.
Until then, she’d believed that the field could protect them. But at that moment, the fire seemed to be something unnatural—something that did not abide by physical bounds, that did not care how little fuel there was, that was destined to consume the earth.
Beth dragged the bus’s metal shutter down to cover the windshield. Darkness swallowed them, hot, cramped, and claustrophobic. Dorran was at her side. Beth was somewhere ahead, breathing quickly. Clare closed her eyes. She wished she could close her ears as well. The fire was deafening and growing louder. She reached one arm out and touched the bus’s side. It was hot. She recoiled. Dorran’s arm moved around her. Then a hand touched her other side: Beth. Clare pulled them both close. They formed a circle, standing in the centre of the bus, heads down, holding each other.
Dorran’s forehead grazed hers. She could just barely hear his whisper. “I love you.”
Clare mouthed the words back. The cloth he’d tied around her face was no longer wet. She was too hot. Every breath felt like it was suffocating her. Beth was shaking; Clare tightened her hold on her sister.
She had no moisture left in her body to sweat. Her skin crawled. Her lungs burned. Her legs turned weak, but Beth’s hold on her was a steel grip. The heat was relentless, growing hotter, unbearable, and she couldn’t take even another second—
“I think it’s passed.”
The words echoed through Clare’s head. They didn’t make any sense. She held her mouth open as her lungs, starved for oxygen, tried to find air. The steel grip pulled her, making her stumble. She tried to speak. Couldn’t. The hand kept pulling, and Clare, afraid of losing either of her companions in the dark, followed.
Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three Page 15