William Meikle - The Hole

He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but it had worked; whether by shock tactics or sheer force of personality, the passengers returned to their seats. The bus bounced and rocked, as if the road surface itself was moving beneath them.

The hum got louder, and the pressure in Janet’s skull grew until she felt she might scream.

The squad car ahead of them lurched violently and almost went off road before getting back on a straight line. The bus bounced, as if the road had suddenly become a switchback. She saw Charlie glance in the side mirror, and then his knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel tighter.

“Doc,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’d grab hold of something. Things are about to get a mite bumpy.”

Janet grabbed the nearest vertical handrail. The bus rocked left, then right. Something in the suspension squealed in protest.

We’ll bust an axle if this keeps up.

She had to hold tight to avoid being thrown off her feet. A fresh jolt threw her sideways, and as she instinctively gripped the handrail tighter, there was a tug and hot tear at her shoulder that told her she’d done some muscle damage that would hurt like blazes later. Finally she found her balance and got both hands on the rail. The rear end of the bus bounced several feet off the road and came back down with a crash that threw folks from their seats and knocked out the rear window in a tumble of glass and screeching metal. The vehicle swayed sharply left, then right again, before Charlie got it straight.

“We’re clear,” he shouted.

Janet remembered to breathe. Fred turned and raised a thumb. There was no accompanying smile. His face had gone white, and his expression was grim.

“Those behind us ain’t been so lucky.”

Bill brought the squad car to a screeching halt, forcing Charlie to hit the brakes hard and stop the bus just short of running into the other vehicle. The sheriff got out of the squad car and headed back down the road, along the side of the bus and out of Janet’s sight. The bus was full of shouting, angry passengers.

“Anybody that wants out is free to go,” Charlie said. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but his voice seemed to cut through all other conversation, bringing it to an abrupt halt. The bus fell quiet. Ellen Simmons looked fit to burst, but it was obvious to Janet that even the town harridan had been, for now at least, quelled by Charlie’s obvious sincerity.

Janet heard Bill call out beyond the rear of the bus, a cry of pain.

“Let me out,” she said, pushing past Fred and making for the door.

Charlie opened the door, but put a hand on her arm.

“There ain’t nothing you’ll want to see, Doc,” he said.

“I’m not going to see anything, Charlie,” she said, so quiet that only he and Fred would hear. “The sheriff needs me.”

Charlie nodded, and looked her in the eye.

“Just prepare yourself, Doc. It ain’t pretty.”

She discovered that for herself seconds later. She stepped down off the bus and joined Bill at the rear.

It was also now the rear of the convoy.

There was no sign of any of the other vehicles that had been following; they were all lost, gone down into a new black pit that stretched from close to their feet off along the road, as far as they could see in the dark. All that remained of the convoy that had followed them was a few wisps of steam rising from the hole, and even that was swiftly dispersed in the breeze.

Bill called out. “Anybody needing help?”

There was no reply, no sound save the chugging of the school bus engine.

Bill started forward. He might have thrown himself down into the hole if Janet hadn’t held him back.

“No, Bill. We need you here.”

He struggled for several seconds, but not too hard. It was as if most of his fight had drained out of him at the sight of the hole and what had just happened.

“That was near half the townsfolk,” Bill whispered. His face went white, and he started to tremble. “Gone like they’ve never been here.” Tears ran down his cheeks.

She took him by the hand.

“We can come back,” she said. “Come back and check for survivors once we find someone to help. But we need to get those who are left to safety. And we need to do it fast. We don’t know where or when it’ll happen again.”

Bill wiped absentmindedly at the fresh blood that dripped from his left nostril, leaving a long smear on the arm of his shirt. He looked into the hole one last time; then he let Janet pull him away.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, and Janet knew it was a promise, not just to the folks lost in the deep, but to himself.

When Bill headed for the squad car, she went with him, waving to Charlie and Fred on the way past to let them know. She got in the passenger seat.

“Somebody’s gonna pay for this,” Bill said. He had fresh tears running down both cheeks, leaving clean trails in the night’s accumulated grime. But his eyes were bright and clear.

Janet realized something else. The hum had gone again, as fast as it had come. Her nosebleed had stopped and the headache, although not quite gone, had faded into the background.

Bill put the squad car in gear and drove away.

She saw in her wing mirror that the bus fell in behind them. Behind that there was only a yawning darkness.

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.”