Seventy-One

SEVENTY-ONE

And that light was brilliantly white, warm. Trees unclasped their knots, peeling away on either side of the windshield as they entered a wide-open space.

Hands fell from ears and eyes opened. The passengers took in their surroundings.

They were in a large yard. In front and to the left stood a huge, decrepit shed, a pickup truck parked next to it. The bus drew closer to a house flanked by faded Christmas cutouts. The property sat in the middle of this clearing, and beyond it, Sarah noted trees standing guard, the flash of a clothesline. The words slipped out of her: “No neighbors.”

Julia stepped away from the window. Dread filled her. “This is it,” she said. “This is it this is it. This is it.”

She’s about to kill us.

Diana went to her sister and eased her into their original seat, and whilst the grip on her arm remained relaxed, her shouts to shut the hell up were nothing short of intense.

“YOU ALL BE QUIET!” the driver said. She glared them all. Her shoulders rose