by Jerel Law
The little girl began to whimper softly. He saw a flash and heard the clap again, and realized they were in the middle of a storm. He tried to close his eyes again.
Boom! Boom!
This time the thunderclap was so loud that several people on the bus screamed. Jonah pulled his headphones out and leaned forward in his seat, looking around at the other passengers, who were doing the same thing. The rain was coming down so hard that he couldn’t see much outside of the bus windows.
Jonah felt the bus jerk to the right. The mother in front of him put her hand over her mouth and held her baby tighter.
“It was just a gust of wind,” Jonah said, trying to calm her. “I’m sure the bus driver knows how to handle stuff like this.”
She nodded but said nothing, worry creasing her forehead as she rocked her daughter, who was sucking on two fingers.
Jonah felt drawn to the window again and stared for a long time, waiting for the rain to diminish and the thunderclaps to silence. But they didn’t. They only got worse. People were crying out and screaming whenever the bus got pushed by the strong wind.
He felt someone lean forward behind him, someone’s head, leaning in.
“You know, I think you’d better leave.”
Jonah turned to see the old woman with the cross, sitting on her knees behind him. She had a worried look on her face.
“Excuse me?” Jonah said, wondering why someone would say such a crazy thing like this on a bus.
She tapped him on the arm. “I said, I think you’d better leave. And I mean it. You’re the cause of all this.”
He shook his head at her curiously. “Okay, lady.”
Turning back around, he put his earphones back in, trying to ignore both the storm and the strange lady behind him.
The bus driver had slowed down but was still forging ahead on the rain-soaked road. Jonah could just make out the edge of a ravine outside of the window during the flashes of lightning. We’re getting into the hills, and it’s only getting worse. It was not a good road to be on in that weather.
Another flash of lightning and the immediate thunderclap behind it emboldened the lady behind him again.
“You, boy!” she called out. “Turn around here!”
Jonah heard her, through his music, and reluctantly sat up in his chair and turned.
It was the look in her eyes that caught him off guard—not hateful, not angry, just intensely focused. “I can see things. Things that most others in here can’t,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve done it all my life, and let me tell you, I’ve never felt so strongly about anything as I do right now—you need to get off this bus!”
Suddenly, the bus tilted sharply, and the lights went out.
“Aaaahhh!” Jonah was thrown onto the floor with the other riders. The mother was shaking now, and the girl was looking at him and screaming.
The woman’s words rang in his head as he watched the girl cry.
“It’s okay, everybody,” the bus driver’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Just hit a pothole in the road, nothing to worry about. Please remain calm. We should be outta this mess soon.” He sounded shaky and nervous, though, and nothing he said seemed to calm anyone down a bit. And if possible, as soon as he set the microphone down and continued driving ahead, the storm grew even fiercer.
She’s right.
The voice spoke deep within him. He couldn’t make sense of it and couldn’t explain it either, but somehow he knew that she was right.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jonah said to the little girl, still eyeing him as she wailed. “Don’t cry. It’s going to be all right.”
He pulled himself up on the back of the chair in front of him and made his way to the front of the bus.
“I need to get off,” Jonah said, standing beside the bus driver. The driver didn’t take his eyes off the road or his hands from the wheel.
“You and everybody else,” he said, smirking.
Jonah tapped him on the shoulder. “No, really, you don’t understand. I need to get off, now!”
“Son,” he said firmly, “don’t ever touch me while I’m driving! Especially not while I’m in this storm! That clear?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Jonah, taking a step back. “But really, I have to get off this bus. It will do everyone on here good if I do . . .”
“You sick?” the man asked.
Jonah ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “Well, no. I’m not sick. It’s just that—”
“Then go back to your seat, son—now!” he said, raising his voice. “You’re putting everyone on this bus in danger by being up here!”
Jonah exploded, “I’m putting everyone in danger by being on here at all!”
Just then, a huge bolt of lightning struck in front of them, followed immediately by a clap of thunder. Water shot at the bus as if a giant hose were spraying them, and for a minute, Jonah couldn’t see out of the windshield, even though the wipers were going.
“Hold on!” the driver shouted, gripping the wheel tighter.
When the wipers swished away the water, Jonah finally saw what the lightning had hit. A towering tree was falling out of a grove in front of them. Things began to move as if in slow motion.
The tree crashed in front of the bus, fifty yards ahead. It bounced on the road once and then landed. It may as well have been a brick wall in front of them.
“Look out!” Jonah shouted.
The driver did the only thing he could do. He pushed down on the brakes, hard. But the bus started to skid immediately. Jonah grabbed the rail tightly as he felt the bus turn to the left, and as quickly as that, they were moving sideways, toward the tree.
The back of the bus whipped around, until Jonah and the bus driver were facing the road they had just come down, and they were still spinning, heading rapidly toward the edge of the road.
It seemed that everyone was screaming now, except for Jonah and the driver. But in that moment, the cries grew a little more distant in his mind. Something else pushed its way to the surface. A strange calm overcame him. Maybe there was something he could do, before they were all sent down the hillside.
The bus slid, and it was, indeed, fast coming closer to the edge. The headlights were pointing out, off the left side of the road illuminating nothing but air.
The front of the bus slid to the edge of the road as the brakes screeched, trying to stop a massive amount of metal and steel. It was slowing, but not fast enough.
Then it slowly slid beyond the edge.
The driver held on to the steering wheel, but the front two tires were hanging off the road. He held on to the wheel and stared straight ahead, apparently in shock.
“To the back of the bus!” Jonah shouted, helping the people sitting at the front get up and move toward the back. “Everybody! Get up and go to the back, fast!”
They snapped to attention and scrambled to the rear as fast as they could.
“Come on, sir!” Jonah said to the driver. He pushed him on the arm. “We have to get to the back, now!”
He reached over and unbuckled the man’s seat belt for him, which seemed to wake him from the shock. He nodded, mumbling something, and Jonah pushed him to the back with the rest of the passengers.
The bus was still creeping forward. Jonah stood at the front for a second, unsure if he should join the others. He looked at them, then to the bank of buttons beside the steering wheel.
What am I supposed to do?
The mom of the little girl stood with her daughter, still crying, and beckoned him. “Come,” she said. “Come now!”
The driver had sprung into action and was opening the rear emergency door with the help of a middle-aged man in the back.
Jonah hesitated.
“You need to get off this bus!”
The old woman’s words rang one last time, and he quickly reached behind him. He found the right button and pushed it.
The front door opened, and he took a step down as he looked back at t
he passengers.
“What are you doing?” the mother screamed. “Come this way! Come this way!”
But the last face he saw was the older woman with the cross, who stood silently.
There was no time left, and the bus was still sliding. He summoned every ounce of strength he had and leaped.
FOURTEEN
BELOW AND ALONE
Jonah soared through the air, barely reaching the metal guardrail with his left hand. He grabbed on as tightly as he could. The bus had already ripped through it, but it held him, for now. With his right hand, he grabbed the luggage compartment handle on the bus and flipped it up. Bags spilled out from underneath, hurtling into the darkness below. He grabbed the solid inside of the compartment and held it with all his might.
He looked up as his arms were outstretched, one on the guardrail, the other on the bus, holding them there with everything he had. Through the window just above him, he thought he saw the faint outline of the little girl’s face, pointing to him and saying something to her mother.
“Aaaaaaaagggghhhhh!” he cried out. He was barely alert enough to realize that it had stopped raining. And no more thunder or lightning. “Get off, people,” he whispered. “Please, get off, so I can let go . . .”
Please, Elohim, let me . . .
Jonah pushed as hard as he could, and the bus began to move very slowly back up onto the road. He continued, feeling it move a little more with each shove.
The open front door was almost within reach when he heard shouts up above.
“We’re out! Hey, we’re out, kid! Get back up here! Everyone’s safe! Everyone’s safe!”
He felt a jolt of energy and gave the bus one last shove, knowing what he had to do. Reaching the doorway again, he pulled himself back inside the bus. He was alone on it, which he was thankful for. They really had gotten off. He hurried toward the back. Outside the windows, he saw the passengers lined up, some of whom were waving to him to jump through the emergency exit and onto safe ground.
He was almost there when he realized he wasn’t going to make it.
The bus began to slip again. He ran for the exit, but before he could get there, it fell right over the edge, taking Jonah with it.
Jonah felt himself falling backward. His head hit something hard, and then he saw nothing but black.
Jonah heard a distant, creaking sound, and at first, he couldn’t open his eyes. Where am I? He tried to sort through memories, but they were jumbled. Images of his mom flashed through his mind, another of him holding a blazing sword on a dark street, a black-haired girl smiling at him, his brother looking down at him from the top bunk . . . a clutter of snapshots danced in front of him, and for a while he struggled to find where he was.
His head hurt more than it ever had before. The smell of smoke, oil, and electricity filled his nose, and it helped him crack his eyes open. The strange sight above confused him. A faint light poured around him, and he was able to make out chairs . . . on the ceiling. He blinked at them for at least a minute, trying to place them.
Then the memories fell together like tumblers in a lock. The basketball game . . . his conversation with Cassandra . . . the face of a little girl . . . a bus ride . . . the storm . . . and the fall from the road, high above. He realized he was sprawled out on the ceiling of the inside of the bus, which was now upside down.
Slowly, he pushed himself up off the cold metal until he was sitting. His entire body ached, but as he examined his arms and legs, as far as he could tell, nothing was broken. He took another few minutes and then gingerly tried to stand. He knew he had to get out of the bus.
Ducking his head low, he felt a crunching beneath his feet and realized he was stepping on broken shards of glass. The windows had been smashed, and the openings that had been there weren’t anymore.
I’ll try the front door, he thought.
But when he arrived at the front of the bus, he saw that the glass in the door had been broken out too, and the metal was mangled shut. It was hard to see, but it also seemed as though the bus was resting up against a wall of rock. There would be no getting out through the door.
Frantically, he began to look around for any opening, any crack that he could force his body through. But the windshield was smashed too, crimped down with no opening. He searched the entire bus, but there was no way out.
He was trapped.
“I’m like dog food trapped in a can,” he muttered. Then he began to yell, “Help! Help me! I’m trapped in here!”
Jonah listened for a few seconds. All he heard was the wind whistling through the trees and the sound of running water rushing by. There were no signs of help, apparently no search team, and nobody calling his name.
Then reality hit him.
He was all alone.
Jonah had no idea how much time had passed. Ten minutes. Or ten hours . . . he didn’t know. He was sitting, absorbed in his own thoughts, trying to figure out how he had gotten himself into this awful mess. Was the accident really his fault? It had stopped raining as soon as he got off the bus. The lightning and thunder had stopped too. Not gradually. Immediately.
But then he must have fallen asleep for a while. He felt disoriented, trying to make the scene in front of him fit with where his brain was.
He’d been dreaming again. He saw Jeremiah, just as he had in the mirror back at school. He was still alone, but instead of searching for something, he seemed to be running. Someone, or something, was chasing him.
He had a look of fear on his face that Jonah had never seen before. Jonah was trying, somehow, in his dream, to help him. To reach out to him and let him know it was okay. But just as he was about to get there, he had woken up.
Jonah slammed his hand down on the floor of the bus, which was really the ceiling, in frustration. As he did, he noticed his backpack bounce behind him, against the side of the bus. His phone fell out. The notification signal was blinking red.
Jonah!
I hope you get this soon! Jeremiah’s been taken! He’s gone. I was chasing after him, trying to find him, because he went looking for Mom. He thought he saw her on the street. I know this doesn’t make any sense. I will explain. Just come . . . or call me . . . or something!
He needs you. And so do I! Please, Jonah . . .
FIFTEEN
CAMILLA AND THE COPS
Eliza had called as many people as she could as she ran home, trying to wake them up and alert them to the fact that Jeremiah was gone. It was still early, though, and the only person she’d been able to get on the phone was Julia, who had her phone on her bedside table.
“You need to call the police, Eliza!” she said, sitting straight up in bed.
Eliza was running as fast as she could, with barely enough breath to talk. “I want to tell Camilla first and see what she wants to do, Julia. I just can’t believe . . . I just can’t believe . . .”
“It’s okay,” said Julia, trying to be as reassuring as she could. “We’ll find him.”
Eliza could hear the strain in her voice, though, and all of the unsaid words strung through her mind. What if they didn’t find him, though? What if they couldn’t? How would they know where he went and who had taken him?
What if they never saw him again?
And it was all happening under her watch.
She felt the weight of her failed responsibilities crashing down upon her. Her shoulders drooped as she pressed on, feet slapping the cold concrete. She was supposed to protect her brother. That’s what her mom would’ve wanted her to do.
Camilla was waiting for her at the door of the convent with Julia.
As soon as Eliza saw them, she burst into tears.
“Oh, dear, come here!” the angel said, wrapping her arms around Eliza tightly.
“I didn’t mean to lose him,” she said, her words muffled. “I tried . . .”
“It’s Jeremiah,” Camilla said. “He’s hard to keep up with. But let’s go to my office now. You need to tell me everything you know.”
“Sister Patricia,” Camilla said. “You will call the police immediately and report Jeremiah as having been kidnapped. We need all the resources we can get to find him.”
She nodded and stepped out of the office.
Camilla stood. “I will gather the rest together, and we will search for him, alerting the Second Battalion of the Angelic Forces of the West to help. Don’t worry, Eliza,” she said, patting Eliza on the shoulder as she hurried past. “He can’t have gotten very far.”
Eliza followed her out into the hallway, where they found all of the quarterlings standing and waiting. Even though it was early, they were all dressed and had somber looks on their faces.
“Excellent, you are all ready then,” said Camilla. “Step into the dining hall for a moment, and we will get organized!”
Eliza felt her eyes well up again when she saw the others, ready to help and encourage her.
“We’ll find him.”
“Don’t worry, Eliza. He can’t be very far away.”
“Jeremiah is tough. He won’t let them get away with anything.”
A hand eased around her shoulder. “We’re going to get him back,” Frederick said, winking at her and offering a smile. “Remember, it’s Jeremiah—by the time he talks their ears off for fifteen minutes, they’ll probably throw him out of the car and be on their way.”
She didn’t laugh but rested her head on his shoulder for a second. “Thank you. Thanks to all of you for being willing to help.”
Everyone loved Jeremiah. He was almost like their group mascot, and she was grateful that they both had such wonderful friends.
Camilla organized them into search parties, instructing them to go out at once and scour the area around the factory, moving gradually away from it.