A World Alone (Dead World Series Book 1) (14 page)

"No, Rocket! Stop the bus!" I yell out, pointing towards Stella
and Gale in the distance. She glances towards them. With her jaw visibly
clenched, she stomps her foot down on the breaks.

The wheels screech as the bus slides to a stop, knocking over two infected
along its way. I wince, wondering if that will be enough to dislodge the
engine, but Rocket doesn't seem fazed. I look back to Stella, a few feet behind
Joey.

She came back.

I don't have time to marvel at this however as Rocket snaps up from her seat
and stands, blocking the door of the bus as Joey reaches us. He comes to a halt
in front of her, his eyes still wild now hold a growing fear.

"Rocket we don't have time for this!" Aaron growls, standing
behind her.

"I ain't lettin' him on so that he can blow up this bus too!" she barks,
pushing Joey back a few steps. Aaron glances between the two of them, a breath
passing between his lips as he struggles to think.

"I'm sure there's an explanation behind what happened!" Aaron
says, prompting Rocket to glance back at him with a raised brow.

"Yeah! And that reason is he was so hopped up on drugs that he thought
blowin' up my bus was a good idea!" She turns to look back down at Joey
just as Stella and Gale reach the bus. "You ain't gettin' on," she
says.

Stella stands panting, her features fraught and tense as she takes in the
exchange from over Joey's shoulder. Rocket points a finger at her and Gale.

"You two can get on, but I ain't giving this worthless bag of dog shit
another chance," she growls. Stella's face pinches in confusion as Joey just
stands with his mouth agape.

"What?" Stella asks. "What the hell is going on?"

"Rocket," Aaron states calmly, "we don't have time for this.
Just let him on the bus and we'll deal with him later." He places a gentle
hand on her shoulder, and her attention snaps to him. She's about to say
something when an infected screams, running out from beside the math's block.
It's soon joined by another infected woman, and then two more men.

They're all sprinting towards us. Gale makes a noise in the back of his
throat as he tries to push his way past Joey and onto the bus. Rocket watches
the infected for less than a moment, before she shrugs Aaron's hand off her
shoulder. Mumbling a curse under her breath, she steps away from the door and
sits down in the driver's seat. Aaron falls back into his own seat, muttering
his thanks as Joey jumps on board without a word and takes a seat at the very
back, furthest away from everyone else.

Gale is quick to follow after him, taking a seat behind the ethnic couple.
Stella is the last to get on, offering me a small nod as she moves to take the
seat behind me.

The door of the bus groans shut just as the nearest infected reaches us. Its
body slams against the glass door, rocking the bus slightly as Rocket steers it
towards the back entrance of the school.

She drives precariously, swerving to dodge multiple infected that are pouring
in from surrounding streets. There must have been more in the area than I
previously thought. After maneuvering the bus around a moderately sized group
of them, she pulls on to the open road. I open the window and stick my head out
to see the infected chasing after us, the tower of black smoke more prominent
in the sky than ever. Rocket glances in the rear-view mirror and presses down
on the accelerator, straining the bus to its limit.

The engine sputters out a groan, and I wonder if the infected will give up
before the bus does.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Stella

The air on the bus is thick with tension. Overbearing
and stifling. Even with most of the windows down I find myself feeling
uncomfortable, like I've been swaddled with a thick blanket.

I move closer to the window, shifting myself into the stream of cool air
that flows in from outside. This only makes things worse, as the wind is harsh,
forcing strands of hair to whip about my face. I move away, finding stale air
more comfortable as long as it is still.

My gaze drifts to the other passengers on the bus. I count the seven people
I don't know, all sitting quietly. I remember standing in the hall when I first
arrived at the school. It was abuzz with activity and it looked as though there
were at least forty people. I remember thinking that there were a lot.

But now there are seven.

Thirteen in total, a number significantly small enough to leave me wondering
what happened to everyone else. To leave me wondering what happened at the
school. Why the bus had exploded. And why Rocket wanted to leave Joey behind.

Did Joey do something?

If he did, what could he have done that was so bad as to warrant a death
sentence? My eyes wander towards him, sitting alone on the backseat of the bus.
He looks sick, tired. But then I realize that we all do.

He notices me staring, but he doesn't smile like he normally would. He
squirms uncomfortably, pulling the bag in his lap closer towards him. My eyes
catch the movement, and I realize that the bag he is holding is red. My bag.
He's holding my bag.

He cranes his neck to the side so that his gaze doesn't have to meet mine.
Staring at the empty seat beside him for a few moments, his eyes begin to dart
back to me periodically, checking to see if I'm still watching him.

I'm making him uncomfortable. I drop my gaze away from him and turn back
around in my seat. What could he have done? And why is he holding my bag?

Is he the reason the bus blew up?

Surely not
, I snort. He's quirky, but nowhere near demented enough to
do something that drastic. I think back to what Rocket had said when I first
met her.

We just don't get along
.

Is it possible that that's all it was? Her simple dislike for him had
prompted her to want to leave him behind? Like she had done before when she
locked him in a bathroom. It's a possibility, albeit an unlikely one. She
doesn't seem cruel enough to pull something like that off.

The questions bounce around in my skull, occasionally finding themselves
perched on the tip of my tongue. I want to ask Logan, but the heavy silence of
the bus restrains me. It feels wrong to make noise, and I think that maybe now
is not the appropriate time to ask.

So I lean back into my seat, deciding I may as well take a nap. The leather
is cracked and peeling, and the cushion is harder than on the other bus, but
it'll have to do. Just as I am about to close my eyes, Logan turns around in
his seat, his gaze craning to meet mine. I sit back up, hoping that I might be
about to receive some answers sooner than I had thought. I feel more
comfortable making noise, as long as he is the first to breach the silence.

"Kid," he nods, and I nod back. The word is practically whispered,
but surrounded with silence it sounds more like a shout. Aaron glances at us,
his attention caught by the noise, and I realize that our conversation isn't
going to be a private one. Logan clears his throat before continuing. "You
came back."

I nod, noticing the unspoken question in his eyes. "You didn't think I
would?"

He tears his gaze away from mine, puffing out a breath.
"Honestly," he says. "No."

He returns his attention to me, but not before I drop my gaze to the ground.
"But I'm glad you did," he says.

A pang of guilt hits me, and I think about telling him the truth. How I
wasn't going to come back. That if it weren't for Gale, I would be halfway to
the coast by now. But I need to think strategically. Telling him the truth will
only put a strain on our relationship. I look over my shoulder and try to catch
a glimpse of Gale, but he's hidden behind the couple sitting in front of him.

"Well," I say, turning back to him. "I guess I realized that
I kinda like some of the people here." I listen to each word as I speak
them, and I realize that I'm not entirely lying.

"You did good kid," he tells me. "I'm proud of you."

An emotion swells in my chest, but I try not to give it any attention. I
dodge his stare and opt to look out the window instead. His pride is misplaced,
and I almost feel bad for taking it. But I shouldn't feel bad for wanting to
leave when I had the chance. I put my survival first without endangering anyone
else's.

Was that such a bad thing?

I shake the thought away, deciding that it can't have been a good thing if
it’s left me feeling so misplaced. His brow begins to furrow, so I change the
topic before he has a chance to catch on.

"So what happened?" I ask, leaning forward to take advantage of
what little privacy we can get. I doubt anyone else on the bus wants to talk
about it, or even be reminded of it. He too leans forward, draping an arm over
the back of his seat so that he can move closer. And he tells me.

"Joey blew up the bus."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly taken aback, but it was a
possibility I had considered.

He tells me everything that happened. How Joey had covered the bus with
lighter fluid and stuck fireworks in the gas tank. How he had done it all for
revenge.

"But
why
would he do that?" I ask, thinking about the witty
remarks he would spit and the boyish grin that was always on his face. The
actions just didn't suit the man. Despite the truth being lain out in front of
me, I still struggle to accept it as fact.

"He's a drug addict," Logan shrugs, and we both notice Aaron
flinch. "He wasn't thinking straight."

This manages to shock me. I fall back into my seat, my head shaking on its
own accord as I wrestle with this new information. After a few moments of quiet
reflection however, I realize that it isn't totally unbelievable.

I think back to the times I had spoken with him. The occasional twitches and
scratches, the red bags under his eyes. Then I remember walking into his room
unannounced, and how he had acted. I throw a glance at him at the back of the
bus. He's cradling my bag in his arms, holding it to his chest like a mother
would hold a newborn.

I look away, feeling stupid for not noticing that something was up long ago.
I had just presumed he was weird, eccentric. Now I'm not sure how I feel about
him.

"I guess you were right," Logan says, "about everyone being
bad. I never woulda guessed the kid had it in him."

I'm about to dispute with him, to say that it's not necessarily Joey that's
bad, but the drugs. But I swallow the argument when I notice the bus beginning
to slow. My heart jumps slightly in my chest as I wonder if we're breaking
down. But when the bus comes to a complete stop on the side of the road, Rocket
stands up from the driver's seat and stretches her arms above her head.

"You wanna take over for a little while?" she asks, her question
directed exclusively towards Aaron. He attempts a smile, the corners of his
lips trembling in effort.

"I didn't think NASCAR drivers took breaks in between laps," he
mocks, standing up. She waits until he's in the driver's seat to reply.

"It isn't a break that I want," she mutters. Aaron glances up at
her, his eyes uncertain as he pulls the bus back onto the road.

It's a few moments before she begins to stalk down the aisle of the bus. Her
lips are nothing but a firm line, pressed together so tightly that they've
begun to turn white. I look back at Joey, who's staring out the window,
completely oblivious to the lioness striding towards him.

Her walk is slow and deliberate, as if devised to purposefully torment him.
He catches sight of her, and his eyes widen with what I can only presume is
fear as his clutch on the bag visibly tightens.

His gaze flickers to mine, and I see the torment in his eyes. They look
hollow, devoid of the usual humor that once pranced in them. He looks broken,
like a shadow of what he once was.

I should hate him. He ruined everything. He's the reason I risked my life
for nothing. He's the reason that people are dead. He's the reason we're on
this bus and not someplace better.

But as I look into his eyes, all I can see is the boy that brought me food,
when Aaron had told everyone not to. The boy that thought it would be funny to
introduce me as his girlfriend, and Logan as his grandfather.

The boy that took me out to see the stars, because he thought it would make
me happy.

As Rocket stops in front of him, I realize that no matter how hard I try, I
can't.

I can't hate him.

Which is why I jump up from my seat and move to stand behind Rocket. I need
to talk to him. She doesn't even spare me a glance. Her attention has fallen
entirely on Joey and I doubt it will deviate anytime soon.

I didn't think it possible, but the silence of the bus feels heavier than
ever before as they stare at each other. I look around and notice that every
pair of eyes on the bus have turned to witness the exchange. Even Aaron glances
at us from the rear-view mirror.

The tension feels palpable, like it's crushing me from every direction. Just
when the silence begins to become unbearable, Rocket speaks.

"What's in the bag?"

A question I hadn't thought of. My eyes drop down to the bag, my bag, and I
notice his fingers clenching around the fabric. Another silence ensues, longer
this time. I think this would anger Rocket, but she stands calmly, offering no
sign that she is going to repeat herself.

"Nothing," he replies. The word is flat, broken just like he is.
If I had my back turned, I never would have guessed that the noise came from
him. Rocket stands up a little straighter, an audible sigh fleeing her throat.

"I'm gonna make this real easy for you, Joey," she says, her voice
trembling with so many emotions that I'm surprised she managed to keep it
level. "I know what's in that bag," she pauses.

I think she was hoping to get a reaction out of him, but he doesn't move,
doesn't blink. He just stares at her with the same blank fear he had when he
saw her approaching.

"But I'm gonna give you another chance," she leans closer to him,
gripping the edge of the seat beside her for support. "What is in the
bag?"

The pressure from her stare must be too much for him to handle, because his
gaze drips to the ground. Another silence envelops the bus as he pulls the bag
closer to his chest. He's biting his lip when he lifts his stare up to meet
hers. After a moment he begins shaking his head.

"Nothing." The word is a whisper this time, dead in his throat,
I'm surprised it had the energy to leave his lips. She leans away from him, and
even from behind I can feel the anger emanating from her. She holds her hand
out.

"Give me the bag." He looks down at her hand and shakes his head.

"Give me the bag, Joey," she repeats, a growing fury working its
way into her voice. He squirms under her gaze and I can tell that he's
beginning to panic. I want to intervene, but I stop myself, because I want to
know what's in the bag more.

"Give me the fucking bag!" she yells. He flinches away from her,
but shakes his head.

"No."

Her hand drops to her side, and for an instant I think that she has given up
as another silence approaches. Then without warning she lunges for the bag. Her
right hand manages to grab one of the straps while the other works at prying
Joey's arms away. He tries to wrench it away from her, throwing his arm out to
push her back.

I watch them for another moment before deciding that I should intervene. We
aren't going to get anywhere this way, and I'm a little afraid that they're
going to rip my bag – not that that's a priority or anything.

Trying not to get hit in the face, I grab on to Rocket's shoulders and pull
her back, away from Joey. She maintains her grip on the bag for as long as she
can before the distance becomes too far and her fingers slip away. Her
attention snaps towards me and I understand why Joey failed to maintain eye
contact. The rage present in her lightly colored eyes has me squirming before
she even says anything.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouts. I flinch at the volume,
keeping a hand on her shoulder in case she decides to lunge at Joey again.

"This isn't the right way to go about things," I tell her. She's
panting, her breathing ragged from their scuffle. But even with adrenaline
coursing through her, her eyes convey understanding. She knows that I'm right.

"Well what the hell do you suggest we do then?" she asks, rather
harshly. I try not to take offense, because I know that it's Joey she's angry
with, not me. I think for a moment before offering her a light shrug.

"Let me talk to him," I suggest weakly. I don't know what I can
do, but I know that everyone will be a lot happier if Rocket isn't screaming at
anyone. She gives me a look.

"Fine," she says slowly, popping her lip with the word. She's
about to move past me when she pauses, as if remembering something. In a swift
movement she's turned around and leaning back down to Joey. "Don't get
comfortable, you son of a bitch."

And with that threat, she turns around and stalks back to the front of the
bus, where she shoos Aaron out of the driver's seat so that she can take over.
Watching her until I'm sure she won't come back, I turn towards Joey and
awkwardly squeeze past him so that I can take the seat beside him. Once I sit
down, I notice every pair of eyes on the bus is still focused on the two of us.