TOUCHED

TOUCHED - Chapter 4

Without asking permission I shoved my hand into the girl’s hair until I found her neck. I kept my sleeve between myself and the girl’s skin. The second I felt a pulse I pulled back, giving him a thumbs up. She wasn’t shaking so I assumed the crash had knocked her out. The boy looked shocked by my actions but nodded that he understood. She was still alive.

“She’s dead weight. With that bulge there is no way I can carry her. You would have to help me.” I shouted.

“You would do that?” He asked in amazement.

“NO!” The cry came from the older man. “Look at her kid, no uniform, she didn’t offer a badge. She touches you and it’s felony assault! Did you hear me? You let her lay a finger on either of you and you are all as good as dead!”

The boy suddenly looked unsure. He turned to me, his dark eyes pleading for help but he was frozen, unsure of what to do.

“He’s right but I am safer than staying here.” I countered.

The girl moaned. A weak hand reached for nothing and fell off her seat, hanging an inch off of the dull brown industrial carpet that covered the floor of the bus. The boy stared at me, eyes pleading for me to decide for both of them.

“I’m sorry I- “ As I spoke I saw the flames cut off the route back to the front of the bus. Whatever I had been about to say fell out of my head. It was irrelevant without an escape route.

With the flames inside, instinct took over. I grabbed the two foot metal storage canister under the nearest seat and took the last few steps to the back side door. The glass doors were bent at an odd angle from the crash and clearly wouldn’t have opened from the inside. I slammed the heavy metal canister against the glass, desperate to break it.

After several hard hits the safety glass started to crack but it was far from the escape route we needed. I changed tactics. Heading into the last few rows of seats I knelt next to one of two bodies that were in an all-black uniform.

The last survivor, a young boy, lay across from the other soldier on the bus. Obviously the senior officer, the unconscious man had bled heavily into the carpet around him. No doubt a result of the safety rail that had impaled him. The youth just stared, occasionally blinking, at the still form of his companion. I would have thought he was dead too but he glanced at me for a second before looking away.

“I need your weapon!” I shouted. He didn’t respond.

I patted him down until I located the concealed fire arm above the left boot. They had been there to monitor the passengers of the bus and if necessary, use the gun to keep them safe. Under any other circumstances I would have run the other way at the sight of them.

As I quickly examined the side arm I decided that, after a slight modification, he was still going to get half of his job done. When I had made my way back to the back side door I crouched down. With a violent swing I slammed the butt of the gun down on the edge of a step, destroying the transponder inside.

Then I calmly took aim at the corners of the glass and started firing. The built in silencer wasn’t any louder than slamming the canister against the glass but it got much better results. As the last shot thudded in my hand, the safety glass finally lost structural integrity and came crashing down. Bits of glass fell into the stairwell and spilled out into the street.

I tossed the gun away, its ammunition spent it was worthless to me. Without the transponder up-link to report the spent rounds a secondary safety inside the gun had been triggered. It was permanently locked and incapable of being loaded ever again.

I returned to the boy and girl a few seats away.

“It’s now or never kid!” I shouted as I watched the fire out of the corner of my eyes.

With the additional air flow it was advancing quickly. I looked at the women trapped closer to the flames, wary of each second that passed.

“I don’t care anymore! Just get us out of here!” He responded.

Nodding approval, I showed him how to support the blond under her arms before taking up my position at the girl’s legs. I ignored the loud protests from the other man as we hefted the girl off of her seat. With a knee in the crook of each of my elbows I led our two person stretcher to the back steps. Quickly but carefully, so as not to slip in the piles of glass, we ducked and pushed and hefted our way into the street.

As soon as we were free of the burning mess I pulled them towards the lobby where I had left the first rescue. Once through the doors I avoided looking at him in case he had taken a turn for the worse. Instead I focused on setting the girl down gently but quickly.

“I have to go back for the last one. That other guy has the first aid kit. Try to get cleaned up and I will be right back.” I dashed back out the doors and returned to the bus for what I knew was the last time.