Tom Dowd - Burning Bright

One hand on the blade, one hand now on top of the creature's jerking back, Kyle cast another spell, wincing as a wave of hot red pain washed over him. Power arced between his hands, cutting the insect spirit's body like a band saw. Kyle and the rear of the bus were bathed in a sudden wash of ichor, but then the creature's form began to unravel, its energy returning to astral space as it died. The bus jerked, and Kyle was knocked to his right as it struck on that side, sending up a shower of sparks and sheared plastic and metal.

A single, loud tone sounded in Kyle's headset. The bus continued on, smashing heavily into something. Kyle sprawled forward screaming, "GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" as he tried to grab anyone and everyone near him and pull them down to the bus' deck.

There was a light behind them. Unstoppable and searing, it burned bright white, bathing everything, even the shadows, in the blazing light of the sun. Heat washed over them, and then the bus was pushed forward, twisting, turning on its side. As he spun, the bus flipping, Kyle could see back toward the plant just for a second.

The light was blinding, but it was dampened and dimmed by the cracking shield of green-purple energy that contained it for the briefest moment. There was a point of light inside the dome of energy, surging, straining against it. The sky lit with a second sun.

The bus rolled, and Kyle was slammed against the side as another wave of light, this one laced with purple, washed over the bus. There was pain everywhere in his body as the bus slid on its side and slammed into something far harder than itself.

The light dimmed, and there was no other noise, no other Shockwave, only a powerful rush of wind back toward the power plant.

The bus stopped, tilted, and then settled. People cried and screamed. Some began to fight to get out. Kyle struggled with them, his right arm virtually useless.

It was dark again outside, and warm. Warmer than it had been. A red-white glow lit parts of the surrounding buildings and the now shattered roadway and abutment that had apparently shielded them from most of the blast. Kyle staggered a few steps out onto the road and looked back. He could dimly make out a plume of black smoke that rose into the air, lit from below by a terrible fire. He knew where he was-he was at the point where the 90/94 interstate crossed Cermak Road. They hadn't gotten clear; he was within the blast radius. But he was alive. He was alive.

He turned, barely able to keep himself from falling over. His bus, almost unrecognizable now, lay on its side, slammed into the front of a building. Far beyond it, on the bridge that crossed the south branch of the Chicago River, he could see the first bus, twisted and bent and crammed into the metal supports of the bridge. There were people milling, stunned, near each vehicle. There were no bugs to be seen.

From around me rear of the last bus, Seeks-the-Moon came walking slowly. Even through Kyle's pain he could see that the spirit was weakened, maybe irrevocably-he'd fought one of the insect spirits toe to toe and maybe won, barely.

"Beth… Natalie…" Kyle gasped, his legs suddenly giving way. Seeks-the-Moon reached out to hold him up, saying, "They weren't on the bus."

Not on the bus. They weren't on Seeks-the-Moon's bus, the first bus. They weren't on Kyle's bus, the last one. That meant they'd been on the second bus. The bus that had exploded.

Kyle collapsed, falling forward and barely supported by the spirit. There was nothing. Nothing to feel, only the pain.

"They weren't on any of the buses," the spirit whispered. "I was on all of them."

Kyle turned his head slightly and was startled by what he saw. The depth of compassion in the eyes of his former ally spirit was unfathomable. "None of the buses…” Kyle mumbled, almost unable to speak. His right leg wanted to collapse, but he wouldn't let it.

"They were on none of me three buses. I didn't see them."

Kyle nodded. He needed to heal himself, but carefully; there were pains in his stomach mat were dangerous. He tried to key his communication link with Ravenheart and then stopped, realizing his helmet had been torn from his head by the bug or during me crash.

"We have to lead these people away from here," the spirit said.

"Yes, there might be radiation…" Kyle pulled himself up and stood again on his own. "That way." He pointed across the bridge past the other bus. “Toward Chinatown"

"There's no radiation," said Seeks-the-Moon.

Kyle looked at the spirit again, trying to place what was so different about him. "There's got to be radiation. The bomb went off."

"Obviously," the spirit said. "But there is no radiation." He fingered a small badge of plastic dangling from Kyle's body armor. It was battered, but it was still green. "See."

Kyle looked down at it. "How the frag…"

"The bomb went off inside the insect's ward. And I think most of it was held there."

Kyle turned to look back that way and saw a woman standing a few meters distant. She was battered and bruised, her once-stylish short blond hair matted with drying blood, the left side of her pale face dark and swollen. She was pulling a long, torn purple raincoat tight about her and Kyle could see she was favoring her left arm.

"Kyle?" She said in a hoarse voice, taking a half-step forward.

"Oh my God…" he said, reaching out his good arm toward her. She stumbled against him and he ignored the pain in his arm and shoulder as he wrapped it around her and pulled her close. Hanna Uljaken began to cry, and after a moment he did too.