As soon as Dorothy's breath was near-normal, she rolled over and crawled against the bus. She could hear movement inside but Julian was quiet. What should she do? Run? Climb up to see if she could help? Run was the obvious, sensible choice and she was, most of the time, very sensible. But she couldn't just leave her friend.
She looked around for some sort of weapon. The best she could see was a stone that would have been as effective as a fly to be swatted away. Just climb up, she told herself. Have a look. A peek.
She was at the bottom of the bus, the axles and exhaust system creating an easily mounted climbing frame. She took hold, set her foot in place and was about to start up when she realised. She didn't have to climb up. The bus was on its side. She just had to creep around to the back, close to where they'd been sitting, to see.
That's all she had to do.
That's all.
Not much, was it?
Right... Go. Except...
Except, she couldn't move. She felt fixed to the floor, as if the grass had reached up and bound her with Gulliver's ropes. Her pulse's rapidity was a time bomb's ticking, increasing in speed until it was ready to explode.
She was Dorothy. Just a girl. Too normal. Too sensible. Too ready to do the right thing and too unprepared to face whatever was happening. Only a short time ago, she had kissed her aunt goodbye and forgotten her coat. Such simple things felt a world away. A lifetime ago. Perhaps she was actually unconscious. She'd hit her head. This was a dream or a nightmare induced by the crash. She would wake up in hospital or her bed at home. Let it ride out.
But did sleeping people know they were dreaming? Was this the lucid dreaming she'd heard about? Maybe all this was just the playtime of her mind occupying itself until she woke up. She could go along with it. It wasn't real and she wouldn't really get hurt.
Except, her ankle did hurt from her landing. Her head was pounding from the impact with the window. She was afraid and no amount of telling herself it was in her imagination would calm her nerves.
There were no sounds from within the bus. The silence beckoned to Dorothy, enticing her to stand and investigate. Come on, it told her. It's fine. You're fine. Take a look! She was tempted, for a moment. The feeling passed quickly. Whatever had attacked her friend and the others was still in there. Julian was too, and he was beyond her help.
No, tears! Stay away!
She would not cry. She must not. It would alert the things inside. It would crumble what little resolve she was clinging onto and scatter it as dust on the wind. It would ensure she'd suffer the same fate as Julian.
Poor Julian.
She caught the sob in the back of her throat just before it had the chance to escape, swallowing it back down and standing defiant against its mutiny. There was only one thing she could do. Only one course of action.
Go.
Closing her eyes, Dorothy took a deep breath. The air felt different. It was cleaner. Fresher. The storm had washed it clean and was sharpening it as it entered her lungs. She held onto it before letting it out slowly through her nose. She felt cleansed, the aches in her body lessened as if the act of breathing deeply had anaesthetised her injuries. She looked around, seeing her surroundings for the first time.
The road, houses and street lights had gone. There was no large shopping mall nearby, proclaiming that the sales were now on and she could save up to fifty percent in the very shop she had intended to visit. There was a swathe of the greenest grass she had ever seen, with no hint of dog fouling or litter dropping to spoil its emerald flawlessness. This merged with tall, proud trees that looked down upon the shattered vehicle and occupants with disdain. It was dark among the thick trunks, as if the light was unsure of venturing under the canopy of leaves and only tentatively reached in to afford minimal illumination.
Dorothy had to move. She was telling herself to get away from the bus, to take cover in the trees. Perhaps, there, she would be safe. She'd have the chance to either recover or wake up, depending on whether this was reality or not. Her body was refusing to cooperate, however. Her brain had forgotten how to command her limbs and she was thankful that the act of breathing was autonomic, otherwise she would suffocate where she sat.
All she wanted was a pair of jeans.
She heard scratching. She looked around to see where the noise was coming from but, at first, could see nothing. The sound came again. It was close to her. Next to her. She looked down.
Two things. Both horrific.
Dorothy, luckily, couldn't see the upper torso of the woman who had been crushed by the bus. She had seen enough of Death's visage in the boy who had died from her touch and was happy not to see such a thing again. Of course, the right arm and leg that still protruded made her gag and fight the urge to throw up. The fact that they were unscathed only lent to the abhorrence at their appearance. The perfectly manicured nails, tipping the fingers of the hand that lay relaxed against the grass, shouldn't have belonged to someone who'd had around 12 tonnes of metal dropped on them. It should have been that of a woman chilling by a pool after a morning being pampered on her day off from work. She should have been having some 'me' time after spending so much time dedicated to everyone around her. She would have spent the morning laughing with her hairdresser, drinking latte and remembering what peace was like.
Her leg, encased in a shimmering, silken material that Dorothy wished could hang in her own wardrobe, ended in a sparkling red shoe that seemed to reflect the entire world around them. Dorothy couldn't help but reach out to it. Before her hand made contact, the scratching came again.
That was number two. The dog. Or the snout of the dog. It was a mass of thick brown fur with a white streak sneaking through. One of the fangs was missing. A short distance from the snout towards Dorothy, was the paw and lower leg. The front right, mirroring the animal's master. It jittered, slightly. A twitch as if Life wasn't quite willing to hand over the baton to its darker counterpart. As it shook, its dewclaw touched metal.
It was the prompt she needed. Dorothy ignored the pain in her ankle, minor compared to that of others, and pushed herself up. The trees had changed their attitude. They were no longer condescending. They were inviting. Offering refuge. She limped into their embrace.
She collapsed against one of the trunks. Her ankle had swelled and it was struggling to carry her weight, even though she'd only travelled a short distance. The tree was wide enough to shield her from the view of anything that might exit the bus and she welcomed its protection. The tears pricked at her eyes, announcing their intent, but she pushed them back again. She knew, if suppressed, they had a habit of multiplying to the point they would overflow her defences and wash her resolve away.
A howl splintered her thoughts.
She squatted down, holding her breath. The howl was answered by a second, both coming from the direction she'd come. Slowly, she dared to peek around the tree. The two attackers were standing on top of the bus. Their arms were in the air and one of the pair held aloft a severed arm. He shook it, the hand flapping and looking as if it were waving to Dorothy. Or beckoning. They howled again, then leapt to the ground on the far side. She could hear them baying at each other as they ran off.
She waited. They might come back. They might be hiding, fooling her into thinking they were gone when, in fact, they were watching for her return so they could pounce and finish their work.
The pull was too strong, however. Julian was still inside, though he was certainly dead. The others, too. She needed to see if anyone had survived.
She had no idea where they were. Dorothy knew her surrounding area well enough. She'd tried jogging but, when that became more of a chore than a recreation, she reverted to going for long walks. She would plug her headphones in on those occasions, and would lose herself in her varied playlists while the step count accumulated. As such, she had explored most of the areas around her home. There was a large park not far from where she lived, but the grass was kept buzz-cut short and there were only odd trees here and there to break the monotony of paths that led in circles but didn't get anywhere. Her aunt and uncle, as she was growing up, would take her out for picnics and to play soccer. She knew the few open spaces. This place was unknown to her. The storm must have transported them a fair distance, but nowhere had she heard of people being attacked and...eaten! She wished they had been animals. Bears or lions or wolves that had been equally carried away from either their natural habitats or nearby zoos. They weren't. They were very much human. Male. Rabid and vicious, but people, nonetheless.
She walked back, slowly. Her footsteps were light and tentative, but they were prepared to change if necessary, carrying Dorothy away if the men reappeared. Her ankle protested at each step, but she gritted her teeth through the pain. If she needed to run, that's what she would do.
She stopped by the two victims of the vehicle's fall. The dog's leg had stilled and a cold chill settled on Dorothy as she stared at them. She noticed a ring on the woman's finger and she stooped to look closer. It was narrow silver band with veins of deep red running around its circumference. Dorothy touched the metal, careful not to come into contact with the dead flesh.
"D... D..."
She spun around, scooting away as a figure loomed over her. She contained the cry that was desperate to be released, but a quiet squeak managed to leak out, a mouse before a ferocious feline.
"D... D..."
Julian!
Dorothy couldn't hold herself back as the feeling of relief unlocked the damn and let her tears flow. He was alive! She couldn't imagine how, but she didn't care. Not too long ago but a lifetime away, she would have very much preferred him to sit elsewhere and leave her alone rather than try his personal version of charm on her. Now, she couldn't think of anyone she would want to see more. Through blurry eyes, she looked at him. He was injured, his steps shuffling rather than sure. She wiped her eyes and steadied herself. He needed her. She must help him.
"Julian, are you...?"
She didn't need to finish the sentence. She could see the answer. He wasn't all right. He was missing the majority of his neck, muscles and tendons and... spine?... being visible in the void where flesh should have been, causing his head to loll to one side. His face was covered in dried blood and muck. His eyes stared forward, dull as if the light behind them had been somehow switched off.
"Julian?"
"D..."
"Dorothy," she said quietly, her voice breaking. "I'm Dorothy."
Julian took a faltering step forward. Though his eyes were lifeless, his expression was imploring. Fumbling, he moved his hand up his neck, the fingers becoming momentarily lost in the exposed inner workings of his body. He managed to reach up to his cheek and pushed his head upright. He released his hold and his head fell again. He staggered and Dorothy thought he might fall. He didn't. Instead, he hobbled towards her again.
"D..."
"Dorothy!"
"D... Dor...
"Dorthy!"