In addition to the passengers they had started with, the bus now held Cassie, a twenty-something nail technician from Tamworth; Carl, a factory worker they had picked up on the outskirts of blood-soaked Alrewas; and five minutes ago they had picked up Kathryn, a supermarket manager from Birmingham – she had been on her way to a company meeting in Matlock when a frenzied driver had sideswiped her car at a set of traffic lights. She had kept mostly to herself, but had been kind enough to share her bottle of water with the teenaged boy in the yellow coat when he started to feel unwell. His hand had not yet stopped bleeding.
It turned out that the teenager’s name was Jake. He was a Creative Writing student from Wolverhampton University. His hand was a mess from where the girl had bitten him; tough to even look at, in fact. It had blistered up and was leaking a kind of mustardy pus along with all the blood. He was currently lying on the bus’s back seat, applying a bandage that Dave had given him from the vehicle’s first aid kit.
The guy in the overalls with the calloused hands and dreadlocks was named Mark. He was a Jamaican-born mechanic currently living in Smethwick. The reason he had remained so quiet throughout previous events was that he had a broken leg. Nick hadn’t noticed it when he’d first gotten on the bus, but the man’s left leg was set in a grubby white cast with a West Brom FC sticker on it and a crude drawing of a throstle. The man had told Nick he’d wanted to intervene during the incident involving the little girl, but had expected only to make things worse with his cumbersome leg. He seemed genuinely upset about it. Nick wasn’t holding a grudge.
The two old ladies were Ethel and Margaret. They had become sullen and voiceless in the last hour or so; a stark contrast to their earlier natterings. It seemed they had only been able to take so much before losing their ability to persevere.
“We’re running on fumes,” Dave said from the front of the bus. “Every time we pass a petrol station, it’s totally blocked up with car wrecks or swimming with sick people. We’re going to have to pick somewhere to turn-in or we’re going to come to a stop in the middle of the road.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “Let’s get off this road as soon as we can. Maybe park off in the woods somewhere?”
“Will do.”
Dave took the next slip road and headed west into a residential area full of Victorian semis and dusty shops. Nick eyed-up every road sign as they passed. After a few minutes, he pointed. “There,” he said. “Head for that.”
Dave glanced at him. “Head for what?”
“The Ripley Heights Country Park. I bet we can hole up there. I just saw a sign for it, saying to head left.”
Dave flicked on the turn indicator despite the total lack of traffic behind him. The bus entered onto a steep incline with woodland on either side. Nick was immediately pleased by the lack of buildings. If they found a rural enough area, they may just be able to sit tight somewhere until they could figure out what to do next.
Or until help arrives.
While the bus continued to climb, Nick decided to take a seat and attempt a conversation with Eve again. For some reason he felt an attachment to her – perhaps because their relationship stretched back to before their presence on the bus. Perhaps because she was there because of him.
I feel responsible for her. Fuck knows why.
“Hey,” she said to him as he took a seat beside her. “Any idea where we’re going?”
“We’re heading for a country park,” he said. “We’re hoping it will be deserted enough that we can stop for a while and catch our breath. We’re running low on petrol, so it’s not like we have a choice either way.”
Eve stared out of the window thoughtfully. “I wonder if my family are okay.”
Nick thought about Deana and James. They certainly were not okay, but there could still be hope for other people. He knew he should care about that, regardless of how hard it was to think beyond his own losses. “I guess it will be a while before any of us find out how bad things really are,” he said. “I think Jake has a mobile phone if you want to try and call your parents.”
“Already tried,” she said. “My call wouldn’t go through. That Kathryn has a phone, too, and it wouldn’t connect either. No calls are getting through to anyone.”
“Well, just assume that they’re okay, then. Anything else and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”