Novel & Cerita Apocalypse Bus

" As she listened to Shawn's words, Queen began to control her emotions, convincing herself that he was right. However, because of how affected she was by everything that happened, she didn't notice the bus that drove to her right side and hit her car so hard that she lost control of the steering and veered off the road. They both screamed as the car went downhill and tumbled. Once the car tumbled, Bryce, who was driving the bus, came out. He looked at both his hands, which were still bandaged, took a gun from his car, and walked as slowly as he could toward the other side of the road. He stared at the car, which had plunged down, and said, "Today, no matter what happens, Queen Scorpion, I w

She turned the volume up, but nobody seemed to have much information other than the basics: No Return, the band that had played in Buenos Aires the weekend before, was en route to Santiago airport with their crew when their bus had been caught in that massive pile up that kept the highway blocked. The air shot showed three large trucks and a dozen cars overturned, shattered, some of them burning. They froze the scene and added a red circle to point at a particular portion of the image. Her knees buckled and she managed to stagger backwards to fall on a chair, letting out a muffled cry.

God, it still hurt. “You’re too soft, Elara.” His voice played in my head again. “You wouldn’t last a day without me.” Guess we’re about to find out. A loud screech pulled my eyes forward. The bus rolled in, darker than the sky. The headlights flickered once, then dimmed as it stopped in front of me. The driver stepped out, but didn’t say anything. Just stared straight ahead. He looked… lifeless. “Is this—uh—Nightbane?” I asked, my voice small.

I shrieked and reached even further. “Ma’am stop, the more you try, the further in she gets. And we don’t know what’s keeping this bus from crushing em, you go in there you might knock something out. We need to wait for professionals.” The car let out a whiny sound as the bus molded it’s metal. “How far away are there.” He sighed, looking away from the wreck. “They’ll be here.” I came to a sickening realization. “The bus is going to come down before that isn’t it?”

MIA'S POV The explosion tore through the bus before anyone could scream. One second we were driving through the fog, the next the entire front half was gone. Just ripped away. The driver's seat—empty. The windshield—shattered into nothing. We were falling. I grabbed Axel's arm as the bus tumbled through the void, spinning end over end. Erina slammed into the ceiling. Brady's scream cut off as he hit a window. The world was chaos—metal shrieking, glass flying, everyone being thrown around like rag dolls.

If it weren't for my wanting Sasha to receive more help, I would never have left her alone back at the base camp while Jasper and I went out in search of a larger water source. Before leaving, Jasper promised me that his parents would take good care of her in our absence. However, judging from how quickly Jasper abandoned me, I no longer trusted him with our daughter's life. I had to rush back as quickly as possible. The sun had become twice as hot and intense ever since the start of the apocalypse. My legs were shaky as I returned to the temporary shelter that the search team had built while in search of the larger water sources. When I pushed the door open, I saw that the other teams had a

Dawn was still asleep when the black private bus slowly rolled out through the garage door. In the workshop-scented half-light, the engine’s soft, steady purr filled the space like the patient breathing of some great animal. The dark windows of the body reflected the neon strips like mirrors; on the side of the bus, a discreet, barely visible emblem: no flaunting, no fanfare. Exactly what they needed.

Chapter 42 Raven’s POV The goddamn engine died with a pathetic cough somewhere north in the middle of nowhere, right as the first fat flakes of snow started whipping across the blacktop. The tour bus: our rolling black beast with its tinted windows and custom neon underglow, lurched once, twice, then rolled to a silent stop on the shoulder. The forsaken hazard lights blinked uselessly into the storm. No bars. No tow truck for at least twelve hours, the automated voice had said before the signal dropped completely.

into some warped, victorious chant: “It’s raining goals.” Cole and Derrick dive in, bass lines growling under the din, and suddenly the bus isn’t just a vehicle it’s a war drum, alive and untamed. By the time we pull up to the hotel, every one of us is shouting, laughing, whistling, reckless and loud.

We descended anyway. That sentence later looked stupid in the Night Registrar's record. It would have looked stupid even without the word anyway. But the line between bravery and idiocy had become very thin since the apocalypse began, and my father was somewhere below it. B1 arrived with a soft chime. The doors opened to cold. Not ordinary cold. Morgue cold. Metal drawer cold.