The Hole (11 page)

They didn’t get far.

It was only five minutes after they left the collapse behind when Fred turned to check that their passengers were all okay, just as Charlie hit the brakes again, almost throwing him off his feet.

“What did you go and do that for?” Fred said, then looked out the front window, and saw for himself.

A long barricade of wood and metal blocked the main road out of town. Four guards stood on the other side, and Fred noticed the automatic weapons in their hands before he realized that all four wore cream-colored HAZMAT suits covering them from head to toe, visors closed down to obscure their faces.

Ahead of the bus, the sheriff had stopped the squad car within six feet of the barrier. He got out of the car, and the armed men tensed visibly. One of them raised his weapon. Charlie had his side window rolled down, so they were able to hear the exchange that followed.

“Get back in the car, sir,” the guard with the raised weapon said.

“I’m Sheriff Wozniak,” Big Bill said. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Get back in the car, sir,” the guard said again.

The sheriff put his hand on his pistol, and at that all four raised their weapons.

“Get back in the car and turn around, sir, or we’ll be forced to shoot you.”

Doc got out of the squad car, and that didn’t help matters any.

“Get back in the car,” the armed guard said, his voice rising to almost a shout. “We have our orders. Nobody gets out.”

Doc walked forward, hands raised to show she wasn’t armed.

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” the guard shouted. He sounded as frightened as Fred felt. Doc didn’t look to be in any mood to give way.

“We have a busload of wounded and I am a doctor. I demand…”

The guard fired two rounds into the ground at her feet. The sheriff reached for his gun again, and at the same moment the other three trained their weapons on him.

“Don’t do it, sir. Please, don’t do it.”

“Bill,” Doc said. “Get back in the car.”

“What about our wounded?” the sheriff shouted. “They need help.”

“We have our orders. Nobody gets in or out until morning.”

“Morning? There won’t be anything left of the town by then.”

That didn’t get a reply. The four guards kept their guns raised.

“For the last time, get back in the car and turn around.”

Fred could see that Sheriff Bill was angry, but wasn’t stupid enough to do anything rash when faced with four automatic rifles. The big man got back into the squad car, and Doc joined him in the passenger side.

“Best back up, Charlie,” Fred said. “Looks like we’re heading back to town.”

Charlie reversed and did a three-point turn, backing up just far enough to give the sheriff room to pass them on the road. They followed the squad car away from the barricade.

“Where now?” Fred said softly.

Charlie spat out of the window.

“If I know Big Bill, he won’t be taking this well. I’d guess we’ll be looking for another way out.”

Fred wasn’t particularly surprised when the sheriff stopped as soon as they were out of view of the guards. Doc and the sheriff got out of the squad car and boarded the bus. They were immediately bombarded with questions, with Ellen Simmons being particularly vocal.

“Why ain’t you doing your job, Sheriff? We pay you to look after us, not lie down as soon as a fed points a rifle at you.”

“Four rifles, if I counted right,” the sheriff said. “And they did a bit more than point them. Trust me, Ellen. These guys ain’t diddling around. They’ll kill anybody that tries to get through them.”

The woman’s reply was full of scorn, leaving no one on the bus in any doubt of her views on the matter.

“They cannot stop us. I know my rights. And so should you, Sheriff. We should turn around and ram our way through that barricade. It ain’t nothing but some planks of wood.”

The sheriff smiled thinly.

“That’s twice tonight you’ve come up with a stupid idea, Ellen. But here’s the squad car keys,” he said, dangling them in his fingers. “You’re welcome to them if you want to try.”

The woman looked around, her face telling the story. She expected allies. There were none forthcoming. Fred tried to hide a smile as she sat down and pointedly turned her head away.

The sheriff spoke again, loud enough for everybody to hear.

“It looks like we ain’t gonna be allowed to leave town; at least not until sunup. As I see it, we’ve got several options. We can wait here until morning and have another go at persuading them to let us through, we can go back to town and sit it out, or we can try option three…head for the old forest road and make our way out over the hills.”

Fred could see the forest road in his mind; he’d been up there on a skidoo a couple of times in the winter, and as he remembered it, it was going to be a tough haul to get the school bus along that track. But he held his tongue. This was Big Bill’s show, his responsibility.

“What do you think is best, Sheriff?” someone said from the back of the bus.

“I’d like to try the forest road,” Big Bill said. “But I know some of you folks are hurting, so I’ll go with whatever you decide.”

Ellen Simmons once again looked ready to argue, but she didn’t speak. To Fred’s surprise it was Charlie who voiced what most were thinking.

“I ain’t keen on going back to town,” the older man said. “All that’s there are more holes waiting to eat us up. And who’s to say we’re any safer sitting here? I’m with Big Bill. I say we head for the hills.”

There was an immediate chorus of assent. Fred was looking straight at Ellen Simmons. The woman’s mouth was turned down at the corners in disapproval, but she’d learned not to speak up. Fred couldn’t help but wonder how long her silence might last if things didn’t quite go to plan.

“The squad car ain’t gonna make it up the forest road,” the sheriff said. “So if it’s okay by Charlie, I’ll ride with you folks?”

“Fine by me, boss,” Charlie said, and threw another mock salute.

While the sheriff transferred his gear from the squad car, Charlie and Fred got some smokes lit. Fred heard the flick of lighters behind him as others followed their cue.

“This is a no-smoking bus,” he heard Ellen Simmons say.

“Lady, tonight, I don’t give a fuck,” someone said, and there was a chorus of laughs in the bus.

A minute later the sheriff returned, Charlie got the bus started and they headed out.

* * *

“You’re in charge, Big Bill,” Charlie said. There were now four of them at the front of the bus, Doc standing at Bill’s shoulder, staring out at the gloom beyond the headlights. “Which way from here?”

Their first hurdle was an obvious one. They had to get past the collapse that had swallowed the convoy.

“Go south past the Bedford farm,” the sheriff replied. “We’ll be heading well away from any of the collapses we’ve seen so far. It leads us almost directly onto the old forest track if we cut across the Patersons’ paddock. And there’s the bonus that it’s a quiet road. Maybe the feds ain’t got out that way yet and we’ll get a clear run at it.”

Fred couldn’t get the route fixed in his head, but Charlie seemed to know where he was going. They turned off the main highway a minute later and were soon weaving and turning along a network of little more than farm tracks. The bus bounced and rattled across the ruts, but nobody complained of the bumpy ride. Charlie kept the speed low; there were no other lights apart from the bus’s own headlights, just enough for them to see twenty yards or so ahead at any given time. They passed a farm that Fred recognized—the Carltons’ place. Jed, their youngest, had been in his class in junior high, and they’d spent some time together one summer back then, shooting rabbits in these fields.

“I ain’t been out this way since I was a boy,” Fred said.

Charlie smiled sadly.

“I started out here myself. And it ain’t changed much. Poor folks getting slowly poorer until they wear out and die, leaving more poor folk to take over.” He spat out of the window. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I signed up for ‘Nam?”

The bus bounced along more rutted tracks for ten minutes, and eventually rumblings of discontent started among the passengers. Charlie merely laughed. He clicked on the intercom mike and his voice filled the vehicle.

“Ain’t gonna get any smoother, folks. Better get used to it. Or maybe I’ll just stop and let those that want to get out?”

They drove on in silence after that.

There was no sign of any fresh ground collapses out here, but neither was there any sign of life. Normally on a night drive in the country, headlights would pick out critters in the road—rabbit, hare, ‘coons and, as Fred knew all too well, deer. Fred realized he hadn’t seen any wildlife at all since before everything had gone to shit. Not even one of the black crows that were normally so noisily present on the rooftops; though whether they too had been sucked down into the dark, or whether they’d been smart enough to fly off, there was no way of knowing.

They passed three farms in the next ten minutes, but there were no lights on in any of them, and no trucks in the driveways. Fred was trying hard not to think of the people lost when the road under their convoy collapsed. He only hoped that these poor farmers had chosen another way out of town.

The booze he’d had earlier was wearing off now, his thoughts clearing. It wasn’t something he was particularly happy about, and he now wished he’d had the foresight to sneak a bottle of bourbon from the bar when they left. Given their current predicament, it might be some time before he tasted liquor again, and he foresaw many nightmares between now and then.

At least I’ve got some smokes.

He lit up two more and passed one to Charlie, who sucked in a deep breath of smoke, none of which seemed to come back out.

The sheriff and Doc had moved back a step, deep in a whispered conversation. Fred leaned in close to Charlie so no one else could hear.

“So what do you think, old man? Is this old bus gonna get us up through the woods?”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s gonna have to. I don’t see we’ve got any other options. And we’ll find out soon enough.”

He pointed out the window. The tree line was only a couple of hundred yards away and they were closing fast.

* * *

“What the hell is that?” Charlie said. Fred had been looking up at the dark silhouette of the hill, and it was only when he lowered his gaze to check the tree line itself that he saw what Charlie meant. The bus headlights picked out a small truck lying on its side, wheels still spinning. Smoke belched from the grate, and something pale waved from a broken window—a bloodstained arm, waving for help.

Somebody’s alive in there.

Charlie had obviously seen the same thing. He brought the bus to a shuddering stop, hitting the brakes so hard that some of the passengers were thrown from their seats, bringing yells and curses echoing down the bus.

Fred was too busy to bother with that. Surprising even himself, he leapt out as soon as Charlie opened the door. He made straight for the burning truck. He heard more shouts from behind him, but didn’t stop. Twin shadows danced ahead of him, thrown long by the bus headlights, darkening his destination so that he didn’t spot the holes in the truck until he was almost on top of it.

Big holes, like the sort made by big guns.

The pale arm kept waving, and as he closed in he heard someone shouting, a young girl by the sound of it.

“Help me, please.”

He circled round to the far side of the truck, hoping to get easier access from the front end, but there was only a tangle of mangled hood and a windshield that wasn’t quite busted enough for it to be kicked in. He had to climb up and open the passenger door from above. A girl hung awkwardly in her seat belt. Fred looked at her mop of blonde hair, and his heart lurched.

Not again. I won’t lose another one.

Looking down he saw two bodies below the girl—an older couple, most probably her parents. The older woman had a broken neck, while the man’s cause of death was all too apparent. He had a penny-size bullet hole in his forehead from which blood still dripped.

What happened here?

The girl moaned, and turned to look up. She looked Fred in the eye and when she spoke, blood bubbled at her lips.

“Help me, please.”

“Just hold on,” Fred said. “We’ll have you out of there in no time.”

It proved to be harder than he would have hoped. He tried to get her out of the belt, but her whole weight was on it, pulling at the buckle and stopping it from disengaging. No matter from which direction he tugged, he couldn’t get her free.

“I need some help here,” he shouted, and at the same moment felt a hand on his shoulder. The sheriff climbed up alongside him. The big man looked down into the truck and sucked air through his teeth.

“Somebody’s going to pay for this night,” he muttered, then turned to Fred.

“Get down inside,” he said. “You should be able to squeeze down to get under her and lift her weight off the belt.”