Eric was right. Of course he was. That was why Kingsley enjoyed his company so much. The man was always telling the truth in a world where everyone was scared of reality and chose to deny what was right in front of them.
He turned to Eric and clutched him tight in a hug. “I suppose it’s a good thing you don’t dwell on all the stupid shit we’ve done in the past.” A smile quivered on his lips. “If I talk like that again, just slap me in the face.”
They finished embracing and Sammy cleared her throat. “Speaking of planning ahead…” She wandered over to a bus stop at the side of the road and began poring over a map of the town pinned to the wall of the shelter. “I wonder if there are any car dealers or garages nearby. We could be out here for hours looking for a car, and it’s going to start getting dark soon.”
Kingsley and Eric joined her and the three of them studied the web of lines and icons that filled the street map. They searched for several minutes before Kingsley shrugged and turned to Sammy. “I don’t see anything on the map, but there must be garages in the industrial estate. We could try there next.”
“Yeah, good idea,” Sammy agreed. “I can’t find anything either.”
But she must have had a sudden spark of inspiration; she squinted at the map again, muttering, “Wait a second…” Holding her finger over an area near the shopping centre where they had stayed last night in a camping store, Sammy straightened and said, “What about this?”
They looked over her shoulder to see what she was pointing at. It was a blue bus icon.
“The bus park?” Kingsley asked.
Sammy nodded. “I know it’s a bit bigger than what we’re looking for but a bus is better than nothing, isn’t it? Do you reckon it’s worth a shot?”
“Yeah, better than nothing I suppose.”
*
Luckily, they hadn’t ventured too far from the shopping centre after finally plucking up the courage to leave the camping store earlier, as it was now getting toward evening and they didn’t want to be outside when it got dark. But they also didn’t want to have to spend another night in this wretched town full of snapping teeth and blood-soaked memories.
The bus park was an open area with parking spaces for multiple buses and a few sheltered waiting benches. It was behind the career centre, a nondescript, dun building that appeared to gape dolefully with its broken front door like a crooked mouth at the cinema across the road. Outside of which a snapper squatted, gnawing on the ribcage of a pigeon that had been flattened in the road.
The three survivors kept to the wall of the career centre and walked slowly as they turned into the street between the two buildings, not only to keep their distance from the snapper but also because they were anxious that they would find the bus park empty and almost couldn't bear to have their worries confirmed.
As they moved along the wall and, metre by metre, the parking area came into view, Kingsley's heart began to sink. Vacant grey filled his vision, split only by the faded white lines that divided the parking spaces.
They were almost at the end of the wall. They could see no buses. Only a sliver of the bus park remained out of view behind the wall now and Kingsley wasn’t hopeful.
They reached the edge and turned their heads almost in unison toward the last corner of the bus park…
And there it was – as if the collective power of their wishes had willed it into existence – a single remaining bus, dazzling white and blue in the lonely grey space.
Kingsley looked to his friends, all wide-eyed and beaming. The three of them stood there on the corner silently celebrating for a pause. Then Kingsley reminded himself that this was just one victory.
What were the chances of the bus being left unlocked, no driver around, keys in the ignition? He started toward the bus, Sammy and Eric scurrying behind.
Either the chances were higher than he thought, or it was just an unusual stroke of luck; the door was folded open, and when he stepped inside and approached the driver’s seat, he spotted the keys dangling beside the steering wheel and exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
Kingsley knew there would be a decent amount of fuel in the tank because there were no pumps at the bus park, meaning all of the buses would have to be fuelled up and ready to go before they stopped here. Though that didn’t stop his smile from growing bigger as he pressed the clutch, turned the key and felt the vehicle rumble to life.
He turned to face his friends and share another moment of celebration.
But as he turned, there was a wild flurry of movement that stole his attention.
A person rushed at Eric from behind, a black object in their hand. Held like a weapon. The person must have been hiding at the back of the bus when they entered.
Kingsley’s alarm showed on his face; Eric spun around, clocking the danger just in time to duck below the swinging weapon.
In the split-second shift of momentum as the attacker missed and had to quickly adjust their course of action, Kingsley saw that it was a woman – dark hair, olive skin, police uniform, the weapon a black police baton.
Then Eric’s foot shot up into her stomach and sent her flying back, striking the armrest of a seat as she fell.
Before Eric had
