EIGHTY-FOURThe empty Frost family kitchen.Water dripped from a faucet. The refrigerator hummed. Danish figurines lined the top of the kitchen door architrave, collecting dust. A pair of long-bladed scissors hung from a hook by the sink.Wes was upstairs in the bathroom. The Kinks and Waterloo Sunset lilted down the hallway from the record player. His wife loitered in the living room watching television, a magazine across her lap. Daytime soap operas mingled with the music.There was a filing cabinet in the study full of tax reports, and Liz’s and Jed’s old school papers—Reggie held on to it all. Every drawing, every Easter card, all kept and forgotten in that tiny room.Outside, last year’s Christmas cutouts flanked the house. Dead fairy lights in the trees swung low over Santa and his reindeer, a shepherd leading his donkey. It embarrassed Reggie that they were still up, though she couldn’t find the energy to take them down now.The shed: thirty feet from the front door on the

EIGHTY-TWO:ScissorsTen year old Jack stood in the backyard. His parents were gone. The smell of evening barbecue: oily and rich. Next to him was the apple tree. Beetles flew in its shadows.Sunset. An orange sky raked with purples, and high above, an airplane. It left a long silk thread in the ozone, like a spider web when it catches the light. Jack could just make out the Boeing’s drone.Another sound. Closer.Screaming.

EIGHTYJulia dipped low in her seat again, drawing a ragged breath. The driver hadn’t moved after all. It struck her as almost impossible that the woman could be both there and not there at the same time. Though then again, possibly not. Because when Julia closed her eyes, she could see the posters in her bedroom far away, could hear music crooning from the cassette player on her dresser.Pulling something close to her chest, assuming it was one of her teddy bears. Only it wasn’t. The baby in her arms was a viscera-coated, half-dead creature clambering for breath.She clenched her fists as hard as she could, refusing to resign to the worlds of hurt on either side of her blink. Two places at once, and neither of them safe.“Look,” Jack started again, his voice like a shake in the dark. Julia didn’t know why she feared him so, yet fear him she did. She watched the way he held up his large strong hands, both as big as trashcan lids, and shivered. “I’ve got these. I can—” he mimed a ki

SEVENTY-EIGHT“This isn’t the road that takes us into town and it isn’t the one taking us to Maitland or Cessnock, either,” Sarah said. “We’re in a hollow. The road is narrow. If we were on the main stretch out of town, we’d be seeing fields, right? She’s driving us further and further into scrub.”Julia sat up. “We have pens, keys.” She balled her shaking hands into fists. “Together we can take her down. One of us just has to grab the wheel. All or nothing, though.”“And there’s a big old gun right there in front of her just waiting to tear through us,” Sarah said. “You’re brave—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But you’re a bub. This lady won’t do anything to us unless we make her—”Jack moved forward, a sudden realization upon him. “We’re fucking hostages here.”Julia spun on them. “I don’t want to die.”Diana flinched.The bus filled with crashing; it drowned out their screams. Windows rattled in their frames.Liz Frost snapped back into reality, her pupils dilat

SEVENTY-SIXThe crashing sounds of metal on metal.Jack launched himself onto the seat behind Sarah. Julia and Diana screamed. Sarah, however, fell. Her hands shot into the air and grabbed at nothing, only to land on the floor, limbs peddling like a beetle on its back.The sound continued. An intense rattle and pound.It consumed all.Peter knew that at some point he must have fallen asleep. Yes, the nightmare was vivid, but it was a nightmare nonetheless. Things like this didn’t happen to people like him—simple, really. His life had intertwined with his fiction. The notebook flew out of his hand and clapped onto the floor; a corner soaking up the dead man’s blood. Peter couldn’t help it; he wept. Jagged vibrations bulleted through him. His already busted lip cracked again.The bus shook.To Michael it felt like they were driving into the sky. The strobe of sun through the passing trees disappeared. He squinted against this blinding light, slammed his eyes shut and saw red.The