SEVENTY-THREEIt wasn’t a well-traveled road they pummeled down; the stretch grew more treacherous with each proceeding turn. As though to spite danger, their speed didn’t decrease—if anything, the odometer climbed. Yes, the 243 to town had strayed far from its route and wound deep into the valley.Within the bus, Jack bit his thumb, a habit he’d had since school, biting his nails down to the quick as he waited for a teacher to ask him questions he didn’t know the answers to. Not much had changed since then; there were few solutions within reach now, either.Peter saw the oncoming car. Perhaps his prayers had been answered. He swore to himself that he would get out of this alive and trusted his God to shield him. Sitting there in the heat, he knew that when the time came to run, there would be a fleet of angels protecting him. Their strong, white wings would be his armor.His mother’s voice in his ear. I’m proud of you, she said, breath thick with the stench of liquor. This is a te

SEVENTY-ONEAnd 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

SIXTY-NINEThey parked in the middle of the front yard. Positioned at the intersection between house, shed, and driveway. Nothing moved except for the thick towers of clouds upon clouds above them.Inside the bus, the passengers watched their driver stand and look through the windshield. Searching.Sarah and Diana poised for action. Jack took Julia’s pen and gripped it tight, ready to stab.The engine ticked.Liz’s eyes moved from the shed she associated with her brother to her home. Stillness there. She leaned forward and took the gun from its place on the seat cover.The fan blades spun a final time, and then came to a grating halt.Jack didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. She’ll open the door, he predicted, taking pride in his calculation, and when she does, we’ll pounce. But we have to wait until she’s down the first step.Catch the cunt on uneven ground.Liz flicked the door release switch. It clattered open. Heat rolled into the cabin, up over her exposed legs, drafted through her

SIXTY-SEVENMichael jumped across the aisle to the opposite window. He passed Jack as he dropped his pen. It rolled across the floor.The passengers scrambled from side to side, confused.Should they run or should they stay?Jack stumbled to the dead body between him and the door. A small blowfly landed on the nose of the corpse. He didn’t know why it scared him but it did. In his ear, someone quiet grew loud.Kill the fly, said the voice. It was the voice of a familiar man.If you run to that door, Jack-o, you will die and you know it.Jack shook his head.Stay here and kill the fly.The insect rubbed its dirty legs together. Jack brought the heel of his foot down on the nose of the corpse. An atrocious crack. A splash across his face.Good boy, Jack-o.

SIXTY-FIVEA tin-can whistle near his ear. Around him, a landmine of dirt blew into the sky. Peter breathed it in and coughed hard. He continued running.To the right.To the left.Straight.Trees.Another sound. It wasn’t him, but in him. Wetness in his ear, sloshing around. Peter touched the place where his ear should have been. Blood ran down his neck, the fibers of his shirt soaking it up.Sarah screamed at the boy. “Run and never stop!”She squinted; saw the blood running down his head in spurting jets. “Oh my God, he’s been shot.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”“Do we run? Do we go for it?” Julia asked her sister. “Do we go now?”Michael toppled back into his seat. “Shut up! Shut up!”In the aisle, Jack stepped over the body, his heel covered in brain matter. He watched the stupid kid running in circles dodging bullets. It was like a cartoon. Jack laughed, veins sticking out of his forehead. He’d planned on using the kid as a distraction for his own esc