Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller by Druga, Jacqueline (most recommended books TXT) 📕

thing. Keep it slow and steady, we don’t need to kick up mud into the engines.”

“Roger that.” Lane returned the radio to me.

“You okay?” I asked,

“Driving in this?” Lane slightly turned his head my way. “Yeah. This is nothing compared to snow in Vermont.”

“That’s true.”

He kept a steady pace. I could feel the RV pull once in a while as the back end fishtailed slightly. The tires sloshed through it causing a strange grinding hum as we moved down the road.

Then even I knew something was wrong. No longer was it just the tires trudging through the thick matter, there was a vibration under the wheels.

I wasn’t a mechanic, but I worried the mud was caught up in our suspension, clogging it.

“What’s going on?” I asked Lane. “What is that?”

He held out his hand for the radio and I handed it to him.

“Hey, Skip,” he radioed. “I think our wheels are getting caked. I’m feeling a vibration.”

“It’s not your RV,” Skip said. “I feel it, too.”

“Me, too,” Martin added.

“What should we do?” Lane asked.

“Keep it steady,” Skip told him. “This can’t go on for—”

Nothing. Transmission just stopped.

“Come again, Skip,” Lane said.

Hiss.

Static.

“Oh my God,” Martin radioed. “Stop. Stop. We lost the bus.”

“What?” Lane asked, then hit the brakes.

The RV slid a good distance, turning sideways some before it came to a halt.

“What’s Pap mean?” Carlie asked. “We lost the bus?”

“How can we lose the bus?” asked Reese.

I held up my hand to the kids. “It probably skidded off the road.”

That was what I thought. After all, what else could it be?

Lane put the RV in gear. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”

Before I could respond, Martin, panicked, called out on the radio. “Lane. Jana. Hurry. We need all the help we can get.”

Lane couldn’t have had time to even process Martin’s request, he opened the door and flew out.

I turned to the kids. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.”

They both nodded at me, agreeing, I opened the door and stepped out.

I expected rain, I even expected the mud. I didn’t expect for my feet to sink and mud to come up past my ankles.

I turned, looking behind me I saw Anita, who had been riding with Martin, by the side of the truck holding on to it as she walked toward the back end.

I didn’t see the bus.

Hands on the RV as my guide, I made my way toward Martin’s truck, thinking once I got to it I would see the bus on the other side of the road.

It took until I reached Martin’s truck before I finally saw the school bus.

The road had given away, it collapsed, and the bus dropped down into what looked like a newly formed river of mud. It flowed violently like lava.

The front third of the bus protruded at a forty-five degree angle, swaying with the current.

“We have to get those people out!” Martin yelled, reaching for something in his truck.

It was hard to even move, let alone walk.

The thick substance was heavy, and I found myself lifting my feet with every step instead of dragging them.

I stood next to Anita, waiting to see what I could do to help.

The door to the bus was open and Skip leaned against the frame. His legs extended to brace himself as he held on to Dooley.

“Hurry!” Skip hollered.

Lane didn’t waste any time, he rushed toward the front end of the bus, stopping at the bumper. He examined it, then turned around. “Wheels are on the road. I need something to break the windshield!”

“Hold on!” Martin yelled.

I watched as he secured a rope to his truck, then tossed the other end to Skip. “Secure that around you and the baby!”

“We need to get the others out, too!” Skip shouted, grabbing the rope.

“We will!” Martin replied. “Just get yourself secure.” He went back to the truck, reaching inside. He returned with a large wrench which he handed to Lane.

It was insane.

The rain pouring down, the mud thickening, the bus swaying and jolting, and there was my husband, large wrench in hand, climbing up the front end of the school bus.

The moment he made it to the hood of the bus, it shifted and jolted. Screams carried out from the inside of the bus.

Martin wasn’t taking any chances. He got another rope, tied that to the truck and tossed it to Lane.

On the hood of the school bus, Lane lay belly down. He caught the rope, but I didn’t see if he actually secured it around his waist, I was too busy trying to take everything in.

“Jana! Anita!” Martin called. “Get near the front of the bus. Get the ones that can get out.”

I nodded and rushed as fast as I could near the bus.

It was frightening how fragile the situation was.

Too much was going on all at once.

Martin was telling Skip he had him and for Skip and Dooley to follow the rope, all while Lane busted the right side of the bus windshield.

The bus jolted again and all I heard were the screams.

“Grab my hand,” Lane hollered, his arm extending through the busted glass. “I got you. Grab it.”

“I have you!” Martin yelled to Skip. “Grab my hand. I have you.”

I couldn’t see everything that was going on. I could only hear.

“That’s it,” Lane said. “I have you. I have you.”

Below him Martin’s words were almost exactly the same.

Both men were pulling a simultaneous rescue.

All I could do was stand there, waiting to do my part.

“Skip’s out,” Anita told me. “Him and Dooley are out.”

I nodded, exhaled in relief then looked up. Rosie’s nine year old grandson was on the tip of the front end of the bus.

He turned his body to climb down feet first. I reached up grabbing on to his legs, then Anita and I helped him to the ground.

Before he was even settled, I saw Rosie’s granddaughter.

If someone were to ask me the exact details of that moment, I would draw a blank. It was a blur.

Martin had successfully guided Skip and Dooley