Daphne Lamb: The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse

When the rolling stopped, there was a sharp ringing in my ears and I lay still under a bulk of something that I hoped wasn’t a dead body. I wasn’t going to move. I knew I was hurt, I knew I was bleeding somewhere, but I was afraid of coming apart entirely if I were to stand. Secondly, I could see in my very limited view through the broken window that there was a rogue force getting on board the bus and they had a walk that said they were not to be messed with.

They were masked with what looked like old dish rags and had makeshift weapons—guns with pipes and sharp objects attached with what looked like silly putty. They were dressed in dirty jeans and distressed army pants, but the look was somewhat lessened by one of them wearing a Bugs Bunny shirt.

A dirty boot came down dangerously close to where I hid and its owner pulled out someone who had been in the seat ahead of me, possibly the Hispanic woman’s husband. My hearing was slowly starting to come back and I could now make out indiscernible shouting. Someone fired a gun, which made me jump again.

I can honestly say I’ve never been more terrified than that moment right then and there. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to make it.

“Dear God,” I whispered. “If you save me, I promise I will take a more definite direction in life and listen to wisdom when it’s offered.”

There were plenty of people hiding, pretending to be dead, and I wanted to know if Bruce and Robert were amongst them or actually gone. The thought of being alone was too much and I had to stop thinking or the fear would surely kill me faster than these attackers surrounding me.

People were being grabbed, there were new screams, new struggles going on around me. I should have been actively fighting for the safety of our group, but in all honesty I didn’t know what to do. So I lay still like a coward.

Someone fired their gunshot and then laughed. That was the first sound I registered with my hearing gradually coming back. The ironic thing was I hadn’t heard anyone laugh in weeks. And now there it was in the wake of people’s suffering.

“Listen up, people!” shouted a gruff voice. “If you want to live, you’ll hand over any of the following…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Water, Doritos, Skittles, cookies, battery packs, lotion, aspirin, those wipey things that get stains out or anything along those lines.”

I felt a finger on my exposed wrist. It startled me and I jerked it away.

“Shhhh!” I heard.

I couldn’t tell who touched me or who shushed me. I just didn’t want to be rudely pulled away or laughed at or shot.

Someone jerked my sleeve. I ignored it, mostly because I couldn’t turn my head in the right angle without a sharp pain that had been forming for the last few minutes or attract any unwanted attention. That’s when more stomping came in and the renegades started going through the lost luggage left on the bus.

My heart tightened, and I refused to move. I heard more noises, more shouting and then they marched out. I shivered and felt blood in my mouth.

“Come on!” someone whispered.

I ignored the voice until the person kicked me. “Hey!”

“Stop that!” I said.

“Don’t say that,” whispered the voice.

“Shh!” I hissed.

“That’s you?” Bruce’s voice was far more recognizable now as he crawled over to me and whispered. “Verdell?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to get us caught. And why would you kick me?”

“That guy who sat in front of you,” he said. “Was that the guy from Battlestar Galactica ?”

“Bruce,” I said.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Forget it. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

He crawled to me, reached out and took my hand.

I smiled, confused. If we were to be stuck together, I guess I could do much worse. He leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Kind of bleak right now.”

“We’re alive.”

“I think there’s some renegades outside. Pretty sure they’ve got weapons, and didn’t see you in The Happiest Millionaire .”

“Well—”

“Wait,” I said. I reached for my bag, which was lodged under my knees. I opened it and pulled out that bag of Funyuns.

“Okay.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” I said. “Plus, Funyuns are disgusting.”

“Look, I was trying to be optimistic.”

“Sorry.”

Another voice came out of the shadows. “Is it safe?” he asked.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“I was very important,” he said with an extremely serious face. “I’m head of my division. I’ve held many meetings.”

“Robert?”

“Please be a hot girl,” he said.

I could hear him coming toward me on tiny footsteps. He was ducked low, but looked down and saw me. The disappointment on his face was painful and obvious.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s just you.”

“Yeah, glad you’re alive too,” I said.

“It’s not that. I loaned out my Chapstick to someone on the bus. Don’t know if I’m getting it back.”

I sighed. “Is the coast clear?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Can you see out the windows? Are we still surrounded?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Could you look now?” asked Bruce, who did nothing to hide his annoyance.

He looked up. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He looked around. “Where’s Debra?”

“Weren’t you sitting together?”

“We were,” he said slowly. “Just before the accident she thought someone in the front row had one of those gluten-free snack packs she wanted.”

“Did they?” I asked.

“Accident happened,” he said. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bruce said.

“Wait,” Robert said. “Someone has to go out first and make sure the coast is clear.”

“What?”

A voice came out of nowhere.

“Who’s there?” Bruce asked.

“Frank.”

Bruce poked his head up. “Do we know a Frank?”

I poked my head up and saw a man standing in the back. “Hi, Frank,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Is there anyone else alive?”

“I am.”

A weak voice came from the other direction. I looked over to see the Hispanic woman from earlier. She had a little bit of blood coming down above her eye.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“My husband,” she said. “I think they took him. He’s not here.”

She was on the verge of tears. Her shoulders shook as she fought for composure. “He was here a second ago,” she said. “He was reading a note from me. And then he was gone.”

Bruce and Robert were silent. It was horribly awkward.

“I’m sure it’s okay,” I said. “He’s probably fine.”

She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “He was just here and now he’s not. He had a cold. He won’t know what to do.”

Debra stuck her head out. “Does anyone have any gum? Preferably the sugar free kind?”

She also had a large gash above her eye, but seemed unaware of it. The five of us were silent, until Frank cleared his throat.

“I have breath mints,” he said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “This is when the survivors envy the dead.”

Frank moved forward. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “I was an Army man. I’ll check it out.”

He marched past us and then stomped out of the overturned bus. He slammed his hand into the door, which now was sideways and stuck. We watched in silence as he kicked and kicked and kicked until it gave way with a shattering of glass.

Bruce leaned over. “Didn’t someone just open that door on their own?”

I shrugged. Frank just seemed to be enjoying things.