Under the Gray Skies

by Jacqueline Druga

  Then we boarded the bus. There were about twenty people on it, and I scanned each face, hoping, thinking maybe by chance my family was on there.

  They weren’t. The bus was warm. My legs and body were weak. I didn’t realize how much the cold had battered me until I stepped on that bus. One of the soldiers handed me a blanket. I was so excited, so happy, I couldn’t even speak. Moments earlier I was resigned to dying.

  Now, all that had changed.

  Immediately, I pulled out my notebook.

  “What are you doing?” Madison asked through shivering breaths. “You just wrote in that.”

  “I know. I know. I just have to add something.” I grabbed my pen.

  I had written my farewell, I just wanted to add to the bottom, that it was premature. All was well. We had been rescued. I wasn’t dying after all.

  THIRTY-ONE – SWITCH

  I’ll take it from here.

  Before she did anything else on that bus, Lacey wrote in that notebook. They offered her coffee from a thermos. She refused. She had to write something in that notebook. Her hands were still trembling from the cold.

  “Really?” I said to her. “You can’t wait until you warm up?”

  “No, no I can’t.” She smiled at me. It was weird, because Lacey didn’t really smile much. Always so serious looking, even when she wasn’t being serious.

  Del sat in the seat directly behind her. “Leave her alone,” he said. “When she realizes how bad her hand writing is right now she’ll stop.”

  “It is pretty bad, huh?” She adjusted herself in the small seat to turn her back more against the windows, catching some of the light that came from the spotlights on top of the bus.

  “Here.” I grabbed the flashlight out of my pack and just to get her to stop moving, I aimed the beam on the page for her.

  It didn’t take her long, and she closed the notebook, resting it on her lap. She had a picture of her family clipped to the front of that beaten journal. The notebook had seen better days.

  I hadn’t a clue how she could concentrate to write even a sentence. After I warmed up and my senses returned, I was a nervous wreck. We were driving a school style bus, top heavy, on icy windy roads in the middle of a pitch black night.

  She was fine with it, Del was fine with it. They didn’t seem to notice. It was like, since the soldiers were driving we must be fine.

  There was no expertise when it came to the road conditions.

  One soldier overheard me expressing my concern.

  “We can’t stop,” he said. “Not for any extended amount of time. After fifteen minutes the fuel line will start to freeze up, especially if we’re low on gas. No worries, this is the third trip this week.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t it getting worse?” I asked.

  “Um … yes,” he replied. “But as soon as we get into Virginia the weather stabilizes some.”

  That was good to hear but it didn’t lessen my nerves. I wished we hadn’t consumed those remaining little bottles.

  I told Lacey that, too. Not that I was a drinker, but I needed one. It would help with how nervous I was. Every bump set my heart racing.

  “Do you really need a drink?” she asked.

  “Is that a rhetorical question, like questioning the reasoning?”

  “No. Do you?’

  “Yeah, but we drank it all.”

  “The little bottles,” she reached down to her backpack, the one she brought from her house, unzipped it and pulled out an oval bottle that was pretty much full. “It’s a little frozen.”

  From behind us, Del whistled. “Holy shit it has to be in the negatives if it’s frozen.”

  “Shake it, you should get some.”

  I looked at the bottle with a picture of John Wayne on the label. “Duke Bourbon, Wow.”

  “That is Davis’ special stash. I can’t believe he left it behind. Go on.”

  I uncorked it and drank straight from the bottle. It had a rich, almost pure vanilla flavor.

  “Need a straw?” Lacey joked pulling out a kid’s green fun straw.

  I laughed, “No, I’m good. Why did you take that?”

  “It was Jana’s when she was four. Wouldn’t drink anything without it.” She put it back in the pack. “Memories.”

  The Duke Bourbon did the trick. It not only calmed my nerves, after several gulps it also warmed my chest, I believed it made me slightly intoxicated.

  I returned it and Lacey shoved it into the bag.

  We talked for a while, keeping my mind off of the roads. We talked about our first meeting with Callie, how wrong we were about her. We laughed about how silly we seemed thinking we were going to die.

  It wasn’t long before it started getting light and I breathed out in relief.

  I could tell we had made it farther south. While it was frozen outside, it just didn’t look as icy.

  I asked the one soldier, “How much longer?”

  “About three more hours.”

  To me that was a long time and I was getting tired. Once I relaxed, exhaustion hit me.

  Noticing the empty row of seats across the aisle, I grabbed my blanket and pack and moved over. I lost my balance and felt the rush of the booze.

  “You okay?” Lacey asked.

  “Yeah, a little tipsy and I’m gonna try to sleep.” I leaned with my back against the side of the bus and made a make shift bed.

  I had just closed my eyes when I heard someone announce we had crossed into Virginia. I opened my eyes again, looked across to Lacey. She smiled and I gave her a thumbs up.

  Then it happened.

  The course of events, were embedded in my mind forever. There was a tremor, ever so slight, but with the roads being slick, the bus swerved. It was out of control, only a moment and the bus filled with the eruption of concerned moans from everyone. It was followed quickly by sounds of relief when the bus straightened out.

  I looked at Lacey again. She had her hand on her chest, shook her head with a partial smile and a look that said, ‘whew that was close’.

  Deciding I wasn’t going to sleep, I sat up. The moment I did, someone, I don’t know who, it didn’t really matter who it was, yelled out, “Shit!”

  I felt the brakes engage, but they did nothing.

  I gripped the seat in front of me as the bus swerved left to right, not slowing down until the bus turned and started a sideways, high speed glide down the highway.

  I reached out my hand to Lacey, everything in our way was behind her. I watched as we careened toward the collapsed overpass blocking the road ahead.

  Our fingers touched, I tried to pull her to my side, but it happened too fast.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Impact.

  The side of the bus smashed into the concrete and went airborne, flipping upside down, and landing hard on the roof.

  I held on as best as I could, but the force of the hit, loosened my grip and I tumbled. Like the second hand of a clock, the bus spun around and around. Items flew at me, bodies flew at me. How long did we turn? Somewhere in the midst of it all, I must have lost consciousness, because I didn’t remember when we stopped spinning, and if we hit something else.

  All I knew was a loud ringing in my ears brought me to awareness, and I was somewhere in that bus buried beneath baggage and bloody limbs. Some of them moving, some of them not.

  A man’s arm was across my throat, choking me. I lifted it, gasped, coughed and tried to edge my way out.

  Was I hurt? I didn’t feel badly hurt, just the loud ringing in my ears.

  As I turned to move and bring myself to a sitting position, I noticed it.

  Oddly, it rested on my stomach. How it happened, I didn’t know

  Lacey’s notebook.

  The picture of her family was somehow still clipped on the cover that was splattered with blood.

  Twenty-eight people were on that bus.

  Soldiers, elderly, men, women and children.

  The accident was horrible, a ta
ngled mess of wreckage.

  A lot of people had injuries. Many had serious ones, including Del who broke his leg and hip.

  Surprisingly, for horrendous as the accident was, only three people died.

  Unfortunately … Lacey was one of them.

  THIRTY-TWO – AFTERMATH

  It was a strange effect that overtook me. I didn’t expect it … calmness.

  I was focused on finding my friends. Maybe I was a bit callous as well. People reached out to me asking for help, but I couldn’t help them. I had Lacey and Del to find.

  The bus was completely upside down, windows broken and glass everywhere. After I stood, that’s when others did, too.

  Some cried, some screamed. I … looked.

  Clutching Lacey’s notebook I visually searched.

  It seemed everyone ended up in the back area.

  “Lacey, Del,” I called out. It was hard to stand. Every time I got my footing, someone moved on the floor, or stood up groaning. “Lacey! Del”

  “Is there anyone that isn’t hurt?” a man called out.

  “Lacey! Del!”

  “Ma’am.”

  I looked over my shoulder.

  “Can you help us?” the soldier asked.

  I ignored his request and called out for my friends,

  Del responded finally. “Here.”

  His voice came from behind me, I spun and searched as he called out again.

  He was pressed against the side, one of his legs was still under a person.

  “Del,” I said.

  “I’m good. I’m fine. I scooted out. I think I broke my leg.” He spoke with strained words.

  I peered down, his pant leg was bloody and his shin bone poked through the fabric. “You think?”

  You hurt?” he asked.

  “No. No I don’t think so.” Quickly, I tuned into my body to see if anything was painful. I didn’t feel any injuries.

  “Lacey?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t found her.”

  “That’s her backpack.” He pointed behind me. “She had it on her lap. Is that it?”

  Once more I turned and I saw the backpack. “Yeah, that’s it.” The strap rested on the head of a man that lay on his side. My foot twisted as I tried to step forward and I guess I nudged that man. He grunted, grabbed his head and crawled his way into a sitting position. When he sat up, he not only knocked over the backpack, but he exposed the fact that Lacey was behind him.

  There was no blood on her face, it was remarkably clean, peaceful and almost ageless. Her coat was open and her shirt was saturated in blood. Lacey’s neck was purple and twisted.

  I knew instantly she was gone.

  No last words, no farewell. No dying breath saying, ‘tell my family I love them.’

  Not a chance for any of that.

  My friend had passed away, alone.

  <><><><>

  Although they radioed for help, a bus traveling south happened upon us. They took the injured, and since I was fine, I waited for the next one. Sitting there, numb, holding Lacey’s body until it was time to go.

  I had to leave her. Abandon her body on the side of the road as if she were nothing. No burial, nothing to say, no goodbyes.

  I felt as if I disrespected her.

  Nothing really hit me until we arrived at the camp and were taken to the medical tent. That’s when I emotionally collapsed. I began sobbing and crying, sitting there holding her belongings against my chest. Waiting on word about Del who was rushed into emergency surgery.

  What happened? My mind took me to a conversation when Lacey talked to me about what happened when the tram crashed that day. Like me, she saw it coming. The trouble coming her way until impact. Everything she had described was eerily similar to the bus crash.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if somehow Lacey was supposed to die on that tram that day, but fate saved her for a greater purpose. What that was remained to be discovered. Perhaps it was to find me, guide me home, or maybe it was just to get peace to her family. Maybe one day I would know. Sitting there crying and waiting for news on Del, I glanced down to the notebook. Lacey was never without it, always writing in it.

  What was it that she had to write on that bus?

  Still cold, still shivering, she opened that notebook and jotted something down.

  Hating to do so, I opened it up and read what she had written.

  Her last entries…

  Davis, Jana, Ev

  This is the hardest letter I have ever written. I don’t know if you will even read this. If not, I hope you know I tried. My fingers are numb and I don’t know how much I will able to write. Please know I tried with everything I had to be with you, to find you. Sometimes it is out of our control. Things were going well for us. We’ve reached the end of the line. At least I found out that you were fine. I believe you will be fine. I know you will do the best you can with the world you have before you. I love you all with my heart and soul. I am so proud of all of you. I leave this world full of love.

  Mom

  Just a note–

  I wrote the previous entry when I believed we weren’t going to make it. I was wrong. We were saved. Keep that flag where I can see it. I will find you. I’m not dying after all.

  But she did. Underneath her final entry I placed the date of her death, with my own note of thanks and that she would never be forgotten.

  She had filled nearly every single page of that notebook. I remembered when I noticed how many pages she filled and how few she had left, I believed that when she finished the pages of the notebook her journey would be done.

  Sadly, it was.

  It broke my heart, all that she endured for the sake of finding her family, her life and plight ended too soon and so close.

  It wasn’t fair. She never found them. They would never get to know all she did to be with them, how she felt.

  Or would they?

  I closed the notebook and looked at the picture of her family.

  She didn’t find them … but I would.

  If it took the rest of my life, I would find her family and give them that notebook. I would do so, or like Lacey, die trying.

  THIRTY-THREE – LEARNING LACEY

  The temperature in Norfolk was a balmy zero degrees. A lot warmer than it was several hundred miles north. While still cold, it was easier to keep a space warm.

  I was issued a tent and bunk, but I didn’t go there. I couldn’t with a clean conscious leave the medical tent without knowing how Del’s surgery went.

  His surgery was taking a long time. While sitting there waiting, I decided to start reading the notebook. Strangely, the first page was a different handwriting or maybe it was Lacey’s and she just got progressively worse with her penmanship. I started reading it and I realized not even Lacey was that mushy. It was a letter of sorts, more of a poem, telling some guy name Clark how much he was loved and the list of silly reasons why he was the perfect husband.

  My curiosity as to why Lacey would leave it in the notebook was answered on the flip of a page. She got the notebook from a flight attendant named Amber. Actually, Lacey took a lot of things from Amber. She wrote a homage to her, and vowed if she ever ran into Amber’s family, she would let them know how Amber saved her life in a way. Lacey had taken refuge that first night out of the hole in a plane.

  Tucked in that page were two photographs. The family looked magazine perfect. The husband was distinctive, good looking. She must have kept that picture in case she ever saw them.

  Frequently, Lacey mentioned deceased strangers who in some way aided her. She always labeled it, ‘took part in saving my life’ and followed it with being forever grateful.

  Sometimes she had a memento of them.

  A few pages into the journal she mentioned a man named James Herron. She had taken his car and tucked in his page was his car registration and an unmailed, addressed greeting card she had removed from the glove compartment.

  It was evident, in her mind, she was going to
get out of the disaster zone and find the families of these people. She truly believed that a civilized and organized country awaited her emergence.

  Lacey had no idea the world had pretty much come to a grinding halt.

  Just as I wondered what she thought about our first meeting, I stopped. I was in mourning, I didn’t want to take a chance of interpreting it wrong.

  Instead, I set my sights on the backpack.

  What had she taken from her home?

  Unzipping it exposed that bottle of Duke Bourbon. It was partially wrapped in an Ohio State t-shirt and surprisingly was unbroken. Even though I knew she took that for Davis, I would probably nurse it. After all, he left it behind.

  Reaching inside, I pulled out a baggie. In it was a watch, wedding rings and an airline employee tag with the name Amber. All items she mentioned in her notebook that she wanted to return to Amber’s family.

  There were a lot of photos in that bag along with odd items. Sippy straw, remote control, bottle opener and a VHS tape of an old Robert Downey Jr. movie. VHS? I didn’t even think anyone had them anymore. Lacey did. It meant something to her. Everything in that bag, one way or another meant something to her.

  Everything I had seen and read painted a picture of a woman who placed sentimental value on everything. She cared and appreciated so much.

  Little things I didn’t realize.

  My expedition of learning Lacey ended shortly after I started, when a doctor brought news of Del. He was out of surgery, recovering, and would in time, heal.

  Time being the key word. He was going to be placed on the next yellow ship out, but would go to a different camp. One that dealt with those who had special needs. It would be a while before Del could walk. All those who needed medical aid, went on a yellow ship.

  Yellow ship? I had heard of red and green. The doctor informed me there was also blue and purple. All ships going to different places. The countries that suffered least after the event, came to the aid of those who needed it.

  Once I knew Del was fine, I sought out some food and then found my cot to get some sleep.