Apocalypse Bus Novels & Stories

There was a smattering of cheers and applause. Bianca cupped her hands around her ears. “I can’t hear you!” The cheers were louder this time. Even Mia cupped her hands around her mouth and whistled. I just stuffed my hands into my pockets and watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. Just then, the bus pulled in. It seemed Bianca, who apparently couldn’t even afford food and supplies for a few wolfless students last week, had pulled out all the stops. The bus was huge, one of the double decker ones with gleaming sides and a driver dressed in a crisp uniform with one of those little pillbox-style hats.

“No. It’s a bus. A BUS.” However, ten minutes later the bus was still following him. In the slowly graying dawn, Father Ward could see in the rear-view mirror the number under the grill, 253. Another glance in the mirror revealed a shadowed profile sitting behind the bus’ steering wheel . . . “My Jesus . . . ” No. I won’t do this. That’s a bus back there. Not evil, not a demon, not . . . NO.

The bus begins to move. I sniff, only then realizing that my eyes are misty. I try to blink back the tears, but a single drop rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, before Bibah or anyone notices. I feel ridiculous. Five hours. I sigh and pull out my phone, opening a Spotify playlist and plugging in my tangled earphones. An Oliver Nelson remix of Greek Tragedy by The Wombats begins playing as we pull out of the large, black double gates of Acadia Academy. The air in the bus is cool, everyone’s collective anticipation and excitement almost a palpable presence.

She murmured. Aaron had arranged the tour bus and driver. She had not even known such a service existed, but, as she stepped up into the bus, she could see it was popular – the carpet and upholstery showed a lot of wear and there was a faint smell to it, beneath the shampoo the company had used to clean the fabrics, that was reminiscent of a teenage boy’s bedroom – old gym socks, body odour, and cheap aftershave spray.

About ten minutes later, a gray Maybach stopped on the road near River Fane. Meanwhile, a prison bus was driving toward them. “Mr. Maxwell, Ms. Manning is in that bus in front.” Conrad nodded. He looked at the bus with sharp eyes. He needed to take Esme, to get her to apologize to Fia, and then do everything she did to Fia to herself! Then, nothing would stand between him and Fia! “Is everything ready?” “Ready. Once the bus is on the bridge, our people can immediately…” Before Silas could finish his sentence, there was a huge explosion and the earth shook.

Jacyn was falling. The world around her spun in a blur of red and black. Screams echoed in the distance—familiar voices twisted by terror. Her body felt weightless, as if suspended in time, yet every second dragged like an eternity. She reached out, grasping for something—anything—but her fingers met only air. Then came the sound. Gunshots. Sharp. Ruthless. Final. She turned her head and saw the bus again. The same bus from the outing. But this time, it wasn’t rolling—it was burning. Flames licked the windows, smoke billowed into the sky, and silhouettes of people pounded against the glass, begging to be let out.

Lance's car right in front of the bus! ‘Jesus Christ’

Slider added. “Slider!” I hissed. “We can’t make those types of accusations without proof.” He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. “This bus is proof enough. They’re dead meat tomorrow.” “Damn, right,” Maverick mumbled. I took his good arm, gently, before he marched off. “Can we cool off and think about this?” “Fuck no, Odessa. My Coach just left here in an ambulance, and any of my guys could have been killed. What if the bus burst into flames?”

That was also why our security was the best in the whole city. I only found out in my last life that, after the world was hit by the deadly heatwave, a lot of desperate people showed up. In the apocalypse, humanity meant little. Everyone answered only to themselves. But our community was the only one that never got attacked by any looters, all thanks to the top-notch security forces here. It stayed safe until the scientists finally managed to build weather bombs strong enough to fight off the deadly heat, and the heatwave finally ended. Everyone in our community survived.

Some doors still hung open. Others had blood smeared across them. No military. No police. No rescue convoys. Only silence, which was broken occasionally by distant sirens echoing through the valley below. The apocalypse had moved beyond panic. Now came the collapse. Evelyn stepped over scattered belongings near the edge of the motel lot while Rowan crouched briefly beside an abandoned SUV. “Tank’s empty,” he muttered. Of course it was. Fuel had already become survival. The electronic tone rang softly through Evelyn’s skull.