I leaped off the bus. There was no way I could hang out with these freaks any longer. Now they're killing people. The sun warmed the skline as I scampered over the rubble. The ruined walls of the zoo explained why people were staying under cover here. I saw the baboons working their way toward the bus. Someone had tried to rebuild the fence around this section of the zoo, but it was obvious they were not having an effect. The creatures spotted me as I turned back to warn my sister. I turned off the debris stewn road and slipped through a small park. I saw a trip wire strung across my path and hopped it only to hear a faint metallic click, everything went black and in that moment Metallica ripped through my head.

I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel the scream
This terrible silence stops me

Squinting into the sun and stretching, I saw the vague shapes of baboons crossing the field toward the bus. Baboons? Idly, I considered it. As the realization that they were really there, and really coming toward us slowly dawned on my still fuzzy mind. At the same time, I noticed Aaron lying face down in the field a short way from the bus. He wasn't moving. I screamed. I don't remember what I screamed, but Patrick was there instantly. I ran toward Aaron with Patrick close behind. No time to try to revive him, we scooped him up, and charged back toward the bus. The baboons could be heard screaming now. Only 100 yards away, and we had a good twenty to go to get back to the bus. Patrick flung aaron over his shoulder fireman style, and shoving me ahead of him bellowed, "Start the bus!" I saw Skye leveling a rifle out of the bus window over my head. I heard the chamber click. No bang. No whislting projectile. She swore. I didn't take the time to look back over my shoulder as I fled the monkies. There were at least ten of them. And they were loud! I charged up the steps of the bus, and turned to catch Aaron just in time to keep his head from bouncing off of the stairs. Nelson Already had the bus moving by the time Patrick cleared the doorway enough for him to shut the door.

The baboons shrieked and waved their arms as the bus pulled away. We had abondoned a fair amount of gear to them in our haste. The table and chairs were gone. The good lantern. I shook my head. Aaron!

He was breathing. But blood trickled out of his ears, and when I pulled his eyelids back to look at his pupils, his cornias were red with blood. His teeth were all bleeding too. What had happened? It was as if he had been blasted by some kind of electirc shock. Or maybe a loud noise. But I hadn't heard anything, and I didn't think there were any power lines near where we had parked. He seemed to be resting comfortably enough now, though, so I prepared a bed in the back of the bus.

I made it so comfortable that he could probably sleep for weeks or months and not get stiff. Just there in the back of the bus. kind of out of the way in case we needed to get out the back door in a hurry. I had the feeling that he wouldn;t be waking up the next morning either. Mom would be killing me right now if she was still here. I was recalled from my reverie by the gradual slowing of the bus.

"Hey," Skye said. " we forgot Monroe." She was looking out the back window, and as I followed her gaze, I saw Monroe riunning down the street with the Baboons closing on him. "STOP THE BUS!" she yelled.

But it was too late. They watched in horror as the first of the baboons, a large male, reached Monroe. Teeth flashed and a scream different from those of the baboons rent the air. As he was methodically disemboweled and consumed alive, Monroe mercifully lost all sense of pain. He had the absurd sense of being in the dentist's chair. Oh well, at least there was no drill.

Skye worked the action of the rifle frantically as the bus skidded to a halt. But the baboons were no longer following. They had their meal.

The baboons were rabid of course, this explained both their peculiar behavior and that of the old women who had been screeching insanely and then abruptly died when Patrick and I tried to restrain her. When Nelson and I went through her pockets, trying to figure out who'd she'd been, I'd noticed several bite wounds on her arms and hands. They looked as though they been recieved while trying to fend off some sort of animal attack. I had to admire the old gal for managing to fight one off - must have been a small one.

Nelson and I carried the woman's body a suitable distance off from the bus and prepared to dig a hasty shallow grave for her. I noticed that Nelson's eyes were blood shot and he was staggering from fatigue. Probably done in from that chase with the kid earlier. "I can manage the digging, Nelson," I told him. I'm just going to scrape a hole and lay her in it - more burial than a lot of people are getting these days." Nelson nodded his head in weary assent and turned back toward the bus.

I had just finished covering the remains when I heard a rustling in the leaves in the bushes behind me. I turned quickly to face the sound and saw that it had been made by a wide-eyed little girl of perhaps 9 or 10, peering out at me from between the greenery. Her face was grimey and she must have been wearing the same outfit that she had on when the comet hit - a matching "Winnie the Pooh" sweatsuit that looked like it had once been pink.

I met her frightened gaze and held out my hand to her. "Its okay, kid," I said. "I won't hurt you. My name's Fred. What's yours?" "Rhonda," she replied shyly. "Would you like something to eat, Rhonda?" I asked her. She nodded her head vigorously in reply to the question, so I pulled out an energy bar that I'd grabbed from the camping store and handed it to her. She darn near took off my hand in her haste to grab the treat! When she finished wolfing it down, I asked, "Where are your parents sweetie?"

Huge tears welled up in her eyes and she pointed in the direction of the demolished town. "They were in the church. I had a stomach ache so I stayed home."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to come with us then," I said. I took her hand and we began to walk toward the bus. We arrived just in time to see the baboons devour poor old Monroe. The child began to shriek. Nelson saw us and swerved the bus in our direction, barely slowing down, but opening the doors wide. I grabbed one of the handles that stood on either side of the doors and lept onto the first step. With my other hand I reached out to grab the hysterical child...

I float in the weeds, staring up at the waters surface. I'm in Mr. D's pond. Everything is cool and quiet. Muffled voices reach out to me. I hear, but do not listen. There is light, but no color. With little else to focus on, the voices become more clear. Vark is here and other voices come and go. The Professor is reading aloud, "...Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?" asked Aramis. "Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword so skillfully... " His voice trembles with emotion, sharpening my focus, I lock easily on his words and drift upon them.

If a school bus in motion can be described as tearing, then we were tearing down the road, bumping along, leaving the demolished town dwindling in a cloud of dust behind us.

I leaned over Aaron, and watched his nostrils slowly flaring with each breath.

"He's alive...breathing," I said. I picked up his bloody hand and felt for his pulse.

"A little weak, but pretty steady," I reported. "I don't see any real bad wounds, just a few cuts and burns. Must have been a concussion charge instead of fragmentation."

A little blood ran from his ears, and I worried that he'd sustained a head injury; something we would be hard-pressed to treat in any effective way. Maybe he'd just punctured his eardrums from the blast?

"What the hell exploded?", Nelson yelled from the drivers' seat. "What the fuck did you people do back there!?" He was agitated, and it showed in his driving.

"Watch the road, Einstein, and slide that first aid kit back here while you're at it", Fred barked. He knealt down by Aaron, motioning me away with a wave of his hand. "I did some triage on the the fireline. I've seen burns and falling object impacts before; this ain't much different."

I stood up, feeling ineffectual and powerless. The bus hit a large bump, and I jolted backward, falling directly into one of the bench seats. All I needed was my Transformers lunch box and my yellow raincoat to complete the picture. It was as if Life was sending me back to school.

It was too much. Just too damn much. How many more times must I be an involuntary witness to torture and death before the world moves on? Get ripped out of sleep, watch a man I respected actually kill a woman, watch Aaron somehow explode and slip into a coma, watch that tall black man get eaten alive by baboons, and then, THEN watch a little girl get dragged along the side of the bus a dozen yards before her grip slips and she becomes dessert for the goddamned simians. The victims were more and more innocent each time. What next??

No one wanted to talk about the little girl. Certainly no one wanted to blame Fred; he did more than any of us to save her. Right now all we could focus on was Aaron. If we could save him, if we could protect just one person in this god forsaken wasteland, maybe it would be alright.

Truth be told, I wanted to veer the bus into the next ditch I found. That would be better really, better that Aaron never woke up, better that poor Vark and Skye didn't have to suffer anymore. But I doubted that I could really pull it off and be sure no one survived. And I would NOT be guilty of increasing their suffering when all I wanted was for the pain to stop. No. Just drive.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and I could see buildings coming up in the distance. Soon we would have to decide whether to look for that fabled peach cannery or continue on for fear of more animals on the loose. Jesus Christ, what if that zoo had a goddamned tiger?

Just. Drive.

I went and sat down next to Fred. He sat staring at his hands that were once the pillar safety and reliance for a child no longer of this world. He didnt even cry he was that shocked, his skin felt cold to the touch as i reach out and take one of those hands in mine. I give him a smile, strong enough to let him know that i am here for him, yet weak enough that he can see the need in my face. The need for him to continue helping me, helping us all. he has to keep it together, we all have to keep it together.

he lets me hold his hand for some time, we dont say anything just sitting in solemn silence and, i like to think, tunneling our energy to the memory and peaceful rest of the little girl we were never fortunate enough to get to know.

After a time he pulls his hand away and turns toward the window, so i leave him alone in his thoughts. I move toward the back of the bus and sit alongside Aarons sleeping body. I watch him intently, its such a twist to see his bones lay so still, and his lungs but only breathe.

there is a little saliva leaking from one corner of his mouth, i pull up a corner of a blanket and gently wipe his face. I Smile as i think of how he would react if he conciously caught me doing this! Vark is watching me as i tend to Aaron, I can never tell the myriad of thoughts that may be lurking behind her eyes, she looks tired. I gather one of the blankets and motion toward her offering the blanket. Without expression she shakes her head and moves her gaze out the window. I refold the blanket and place with the other spare next to Aarons seat.

I rest my head against the metal bar on the rear of the seat, at every bump on the road below it hits my temple. Bump. Bump. Bump. It hurts. It feels good. I know i am still alive, despite what the rest of my body tells me.

As I gazed out the jostling bus window, a feeling came over me. A sort of numbness. I began to think about the ups and downs in my life. Looking back now, at myself at seventeen, it seems so trite. I had led such a perfect life to that point. Images from my past whistled by. Aaron coming home for the first time. My rollerskates. The pink bookstrap I used all through junior high. Eating dinner with my mom and dad and even Aaron. Never again.

My life had gone 180 degrees in an instant, and now I stood at the brink of being wholly alone. If Aaron didn't wake up, I would be the only one left. I felt like that should panic me, but the numbness stood between me and my feelings.

And then another image confronted me. I recall being troubled by the vivid memory of the hug Skye and I had shared. I had been comforting her, but in this instant, that image returned of its own accord. And I felt better afterwards. I also remember blushing furiously. It made me nervous around her. Wherever she was, I was conscious of her. I pushed the feelings down until I could think about something else. Anything else.

The pendulum. I sat and thought about how when something as bad as what happened to us all, there had to be an equal and opposite reaction. Something was due to fall our way. I had no idea at that time how prophetic my thoughts were, nor how soon they would be confirmed.

As we rounded the next bend, life began to take on a more rosy outlook. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"It's the world's largest prairie dog," shrieked Vark, jolting me out of a light, disturbed sleep. I had been dreaming of Rhonda, how she suddenly seemed to give up and let go of my hand just when I almost had her pulled on board the bus. Poor kid, I guess it was all too much for her, and in the end she preferred letting go, rather than hanging on for God knows what.

Nelson slowed the bus at the apparition which was looming over us. The World's Largest Prairie Dog was an icon for travelers of I-70 between Colorado and Kansas. Situated just outside of Oakley, Kansas, it was a sign that you had finally made it across 100's of miles of monotimus prairie and were near the state line.

I remembered being a kid of just 5 or 6 and driving with my Grand Dad to visit some distant Cherokee cousins in Kentucky. The signs had started appearing 200 miles back in Colorado. "World's Largest Prairie Dog! Refreshments! Campground! Only 200 miles!" The signs would appear again and again at 30 mile or so intervals.

My brother who was 8 and already doing well at the boarding school in Chinle, 60 miles from our grazing lands, read the signs aloud to me as we passed. "Gran' Pa! Gran' Pa!" we both begged, Can we see it? Can we stop?" My Grand Dad who had been disappointed too often by the white worlds' promises, sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, my God!" How tacky can you get?" exclaimed Skye, pointing at the thing and collapsing into laughter. Nelson stared at the apparition in bemusement and replied, "My dear, it doesn't get any better than this. We have arrived at one of the 7 tackiest tourist traps in the Western world."

God! I wished Aaron would wake up for this. He would have been out of the bus in an instant, climbing up the side of the Prairie Dog's face and taunting us all to come get him from its eye brow.

Patrick was snoring loudly on the bus seat right behind me. "Wake up Patrick! I said to him. "We're almost at the Colorado line!" He stirred uneasily in his sleep and muttered something that sounded like, "Damn net nanny..."

What was that? But I was too excited to care. "Come on, everybody!" I called out to the group. "Camping! REFRESHMENTS!" We all clambered off the bus to explore the delights that The World's Largest Prairie Dog had to offer.

Three years ago I had sat on this seat eating a Dagwood dog and a milkshake as mum used the bathroom to freshen up. I was in a different world now though.. a hard, cold new world, but one that still included the promise of refreshments and Dagwood dogs overseen by the worlds largest prairie dog. oh how this put things into perspective for me.

Glad to be off the bus I breathed in the air. it was fresh and cleaner than the smog and dust we had been breathing the last few days. I thought it would clear my head. I thought it would revitalise my will to survive and give me an empowering energy to breathe in a freshness and exhale all the negative aura of the trauma surrounding us. I was, of course, wrong.

mum
hunger
the earth shaking
Aarons still body
the self inflicted bruise on my head from the metal bars on the bus
Varks turbulent support
the peanuts
the peaches we never found
an ever grumbling stomach
the warmth of a hug
cracks in my heart
Patrick's control
cracks in my nails
Fred's control
cracks in my skin
Nelsons control
my total lack of control


My knees hit the gravel with a puncturing thud, I filled my fists with gravel and threw handful after handful of stone at the giant statue. screaming at it for our plight, screaming at the sky for our demise. Tears filled my eyes as the words of hatred filled my mouth. the stones hit the dog with small dings like a coins being dropped on the deck of a fibreglass boat. Patrick cautiously approaches me with a stern face and raised opened palms.

" Skye! HEY! Skye come on we just pulled up here to relax, there is no use for that wasted energy here.."

"F**k you Patrick! F**k that bus and F**k Colorado! lead me not to my death Pat, I can do that myself! "

I stand and turn on my heels, the horizon beckons my soul and my feet try to run, but with the energy of a dishcloth its more like a disabled canter. Patrick's hand grabs my elbow and with a firm grip turn my crying eyes to meet his stable gaze. how dare he be so calm. how DARE he be so in control! doesn't he know there is no hope!!

I pull back my head and straighten my body, with rushed rage and hopeless retort I smash my forehead into Patrick's nose. a head butt to his ego, but I doubt that it hurt him that much, so with my free arm I start to scratch at his arms and neck until he pushes me back onto the gravel, staring at me like a pathetic symbol of weakness. he stalks away. and I sit with my face burning and my lungs feeling like they have been extracted of all breathing privileges.

I don't know how long I have been sitting here, the dirt is making its new home inside the pores of my skin and I can hear the others making noise behind me. I hear the crunching of gravel behind me.. someone is approaching.

I feel the cool press of metal on my neck, just below my hair line. its a can of drink and its pushed hard into my skin, not offensive like, playful. a voice whispers in my ear

"thought you might need some sugar after that outburst"

The cola is then offered to me from some one now kneeling behind me , I reach up and take it, and the arm folds around me rests on my shoulders and collar bone with the thumb from that hand softly and soothingly stroking my neck. Long legs fold beside me as a comforting presence soothes my static mind. I know I needn't say a word as a look into Varks tired face and offer her an apologetic smile.

She offers one back.

Hey, it might be ok after all...