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“Fuckin’ fine! I need people on both sides of the bus guiding me!” Arnold changed gears, every movement agitated. “I can only see so much with these mirrors!”
“We’re on it,” Juan assured him.
Emma slid onto a seat on the left. “I’ll take this side.”
Monica took the seat opposite her. “I got the right.”
Juan ran down the aisle to the rear. “I’ve got the back end!”
The bus inched backwards down the narrow strip of asphalt curving sharply around the hill. It had been daunting on the journey up to lookout point, but it was downright terrifying traveling in reverse. The zombies crowded the short bus, beating on it while howling with hunger. The faster, stronger ones shoved aside the weaker of their kind. A towering zombie lunged out of the throng and startled Emma by slamming his massive fists against the grate covering the window she was gazing through.
Breaking her own rule, she reflexively glanced at his face. For a split second, she thought it was Stan, her long dead ex, and her heart leaped in her chest. Then she realized his nose was too big, his face too long, and his murky eyes too bulging. Additionally, she had put Stan to rest on the same day as her son.
The bus slid past the zombie, and he disappeared from view.
Despite her grit, she was shaken. It was foolish for her to believe she could have put the last year behind her so quickly. The ghosts of her past were on her heels no matter how much she tried to ignore them.
Pressing her hands to the glass to steady herself, she blotted out the mutilated faces of the dead screaming at her so she could concentrate on the task at hand. The bus maintained a good three feet from the guardrail and the brush lining the blacktop. Beyond the gnarled mesquite trees, the town dwelled below, appearing deceitfully tranquil.
“You’re good on the left,” Emma called out.
From the other side of the aisle, Monica chimed in, “Fine on the right.”
“So far, so good, boss,” Juan said from the rear of the bus.
Ted slid into the seat behind Emma’s and stared in horror at the thick bramble of trees lurking a few feet away. “We’re going to crash. You need to turn this bus around. This is dangerous!”
“Can’t turn around and risk getting hemmed in,” Emma replied.
“I’m not talking to you,” Ted snarled. “Driver, you need to turn around and-”
The bus ran over something large in the road, jarring them. Emma smacked her forehead against the glass while Ted’s face impacted with a meaty thud. It sent sparks shimmering through her eyesight and she blinked them away. The throbbing pain she could ignore, but the instant splitting headache made focusing a little more difficult.
Ted gripped his nose, blood seeping out from beneath his fingers. Stunned, he slumped on the bench. Emma switched seats, leaving Ted to whimper. At least now he wasn’t complaining.
A pack of faster zombies raced alongside the bus, leaping at the windows. A few succeeded in grabbing onto the metal grill welded over the windows to hoist themselves up, making it difficult for Emma to see past their squirming bodies.
“It’s hard to see with these assholes holding on!”
The engine growled, the gears grinding. Arnold hit the accelerator to pick up speed, probably hoping to escape the snarl of zombies clinging to the sides.
“I got one bugging me too.” Arnold sounded annoyed.
A quick look toward the front end revealed that the big zombie who reminded her earlier of Stan had clambered onto the hood near Arnold’s position. The zombie was struggling to tear off the windshield’s protection. The rattling sound of metal against glass filled the bus. The big zombie was determined to get inside and rip Arnold apart.
“Should I shoot this one?” Emma asked.
“Save your bullets. We might need them if we have to disembark and go on foot,” Nerit ominously replied.
“Fuck this guy!”
Arnold veered toward the low-hanging branches to knock off the zombie, a risky move on such a narrow road. The sound of the tree limbs hitting the bus was deafening. The big zombie clung to the grate, growling loudly. Nervously, Emma checked how close they were to the drop off. Although the branches striking the bus made it difficult to see, she spotted the rusted guardrail looming far too close to the tires.
“Arnold, you’re getting too close to the edge!”
Swerving back onto the road, Arnold struggled to keep the bus from shimmying. For a few seconds he fought the steering wheel until the bus was firmly back under his control.
“The protective guard is holding. You’re safe. Concentrate on driving, Arnold,” Nerit instructed.
