When the Bus Broke Down

A Midnight Vault 2 Story. (Fiction)

It was a normal Friday evening in Nowhere, Oklahoma, until the bus broke down.

The state always lit up on Fridays. High school football essentially shut everything else down. Bixby High in particular reveled in the attention. It was about the only time the town got attention. They had won two state championships and were well on the way to a third. This particularly chilling evening, the team was headed to Mustang for what should’ve been a competitive game of football. That game was never played. In fact, half of the Bixby players never even made it off the bus.

Preston Jones, the star Quarterback, was running later than usual. He stopped for his pregame ritual: Smoking weed while downing whatever fast food he decided to eat that day, and lost track of time. Coach Harris despised this routine but knew there was no arguing with the kid. Besides, he claimed he couldn’t play without it. Sometimes, you just let your star player do what they need to do.

His dad’s fresh new truck (that Preston claimed was his) came zooming through the school parking lot twenty minutes after the bus was supposed to leave. Coach was fuming. The rest of the team cheered. A few even chanted Preston’s name. He parked crookedly and jumped out of the truck. Burger wrappers spilled out of the car behind him. He wiped ash from his school-issued sweatshirt as he jogged up to the bus. The cheers got louder, as did Coach Harris’s glare. He stood at the door, shaking his head. Assistant coach Frank drove the bus and joined Coach Harris in the wordless shaming.

“Look who decided to join us,” Coach Harris quipped.

Coach Harris was self-serious but hid a big soft spot. He scared many of the boys, but he also protected them fiercely. He cared for all of the boys, but Preston was always somewhat of a pet project. He even stayed with Harris during his dad’s stint in rehab.

“Won’t happen again, coach!” Preston grinned.

“I know it will,” Coach Harris said with a sigh. “If we were playing a worse team, I’d bench you. Let Duncan get a shot. Hell, I might just do it anyway.”

Duncan Watts doubled as Preston’s backup and best friend. He was only a freshman, but had a cannon for an arm. It was rumored during the off-season that Duncan may be poised to take Preston’s spot before he graduated. Preston just needed to fend him off for one more season, though.

“You must want to lose, Coach!” Preston sat right next to Duncan. He tickled Duncan’s armpit until his hands were slapped away.

Coach Harris hated away games. Being stuck in a yellow tube while a bunch of teenagers screamed nonsense at the top of their lungs was Coach Harris’s own personal slice of hell. This ride was just as rowdy as usual. Someone had a speaker blasting music. Twelve different conversations muddied each other into a frenzy of white noise. The music was always bass-heavy and fast. The songs thumped against Harris’s head like a ball against a paddle. He actually liked a few of the songs they’d play. The bus just had a way of making anything nauseating. It could’ve been his mother’s voice coming from those speakers, and he’d still want to jump off the bus while it’s moving.

“What do you wanna get into after this?” Preston asked Duncan. “Ainsley is gonna be there. I can see if she has a cute friend or something.”

“I’m good,” Duncan said. He kept his head down to his phone. His fingers moved across the touchscreen keyboard at a mile a minute. “Got plans.”

Preston looked over his buddy’s shoulder. Duncan was texting ‘Kim’ with two hearts next to her name. He was typing a paragraph that was already taking up the whole screen. “Dude, you’re still talking to her?” Preston asked.

“Chill out,” Duncan said, still typing furiously. “It’s not like that.”

Preston settled into his seat. He realized Duncan wouldn’t provide the entertainment he wanted, so he scanned the bus for someone to mess with. He looked at the very back, where Jim Henke sat with the two team managers, Shaylee and Catherine. He was the only one they’d talk to on the bus, mostly because he’d let them make song requests and didn’t try to hit on them constantly like the other guys. They were busy screaming along and dancing to rap music. Preston wanted to join in, but he didn’t know the lyrics. He looked next to him, across the walkway. Kirk Hammond, the team’s linebacker, was sleeping like a baby. He was so hefty that he usually got his own seat on the bus. He was about to wake the big guy up before he was interrupted.

“You bored Mr. Jones?” asked Coach Harris from the front of the bus. He held up the playbook with a sly smile. “I got an empty seat next to me.”

Preston groaned but listened to his coach and switched seats. Duncan took his friend’s absence as an excuse to stretch his legs out on the seat. Preston made his way to the front. He sat next to Harris and took the playbook from his hands. “We already went over this, coach,” he complained.

“That’s the problem with you young folk!” Coach Frank interjected from the driver’s seat. “Never know when just to shut up and listen.”

“Eyes on the road, Coach Frank,” Preston responded.

The bus was merging onto the highway from standstill traffic. Coach Frank said so many curse words that the boys didn’t recognize half of them. They all laughed uncontrollably. Duncan dropped his phone for the slightest second to join in on the laughter. Even Coach Harris had to hide his chuckle, which permitted Preston to laugh.

“Get off as soon as you can, Frank,” Coach Harris directed. “We’ll go the back way. We’ll get there at midnight in this traffic.”

Coach Frank may have used some not-so-legal maneuvers, but he sure got the bus off that highway. Besides, if a crime occurs but a police officer didn’t see it, did it truly happen? Frank didn’t believe so. About ten minutes later, they were in the sticks. Oklahoma was funny like that. One second you’re in highly populated suburbia, the next it’s just you, a herd of cows, and a gun-toting homeowner who’s begging for someone to break down on their property.

That’s exactly what they did. Break down. The engine sounded like a gunshot. Several of the boys jumped. Catherine and Shaylee both screamed in unison. Jim Henke turned down his speaker. After that was a few seconds of rare, blissful silence. Until the yelling started.

“Aw, hell!” yelled Coach Frank. “The sonobitch is dyin’ on me.”

“Coach, what the hell?!” yelled a freshly awakened Kirk Hammond. “Why are we stopping?”

“The bus is having some issues!” Coach Harris boomed in that voice that was undefeated in getting these boys’ attention. “It’s not a huge deal. It happens. We’re going to pull over. Coach Frank and I should be able to figure out what’s going on. In the meantime, keep your asses in your seats, and I don’t want to hear you from outside.”

Jim turned the volume of his music up.

“That includes the music, Henke.”

Jim promptly turned off his music.

“Don’t worry, Harris, I’ll take a look,” Frank said. He grunted as he got out of the seat. Each step down appeared to pain him. “You sit back and babysit. I’ve dealt with this type of thing before. I’ll have us running in thirty minutes!”

Frank had been working on the car for thirty minutes by the time Coach Harris stepped out to help. The sun was already going down. A pink glow gave way as the full moon made its presence known. Harris always said full moons made the kids crazier. They were always just a little bit rowdier. The boys’ behavior once they were left unattended proved his theory right.

Jim’s music immediately cut back on and was louder than ever. The cheerleader girls sang along and danced as a Drake song blared through the bus. The boys were all up from their seats and mingling. Preston noticed they were next to a gas station. He recognized the logo from the cups his trucker dad often had with him. Preston reminisced for a second, then reclaimed his seat next to Duncan, who was still tapping on his phone intently. Preston snuck his hand over and turned Duncan’s screen off.

“Come on, bro!” Duncan complained. “I’m busy.”

“You need to get your nose out of that phone!” Preston snagged Duncan’s phone and sat on it. “I’ll give it back when we win this game.”

“I appreciate the advice, Mom.” Duncan tried to find an opening in Preston’s leg, but didn’t want to touch him down there. “Give it back, loser!”

“When we win the game!”

Duncan sighed and decided not to fight an unwinnable battle. “So, what’s up with the bus?” he asked.

The boys looked outside. Coach Harris was looking under the hood while Coach Frank stood behind him with his hands on his sides. They were yelling at each other. The top of Coach Harris’s bald head was red as a tomato. The same shade it gets when Preston makes a bad pass or when they lose to a bad team.

“Engine troubles are my guess,” Preston answered.

“No shit!” said Duncan.

“It doesn’t look like we’re making much progress either. The game starts in an hour, and we still have two hours on the road. At least,” Preston continued, like he didn’t even hear Duncan.

“Is losing from not showing up better or worse than just losing?” asked Kirk Hammond.

“Worse.” Preston and Duncan answered at the same time. They looked out the window again. Preston silently hoped that his coaches would magically fix the bus and zoom off to the game. He could almost visualize them dropping the hood and heading back to the bus. Almost.

Coach Harris stepped back from the yellow colored tube and just scratched his head. Frank shook his head as the two men started a yelling match. The kids couldn’t hear what they were saying, but that didn’t stop them from attracting their attention. Jim even cut his music down for a chance to eavesdrop. A chorus of oohs started as Frank threw his hat on the ground. A few kids started chanting ‘fight,’ but it slowly dissipated as nobody joined in. The arguing suddenly stopped when they turned their attention to the forest. Harris swung his head like it was on a swivel. Frank’s head was not far behind him. Both men walked cautiously towards the void of trees.

“The hell are they doing?” Duncan asked. He stood on the seat to get a better view.

Coach Frank walked a few feet into the forest. He bent down to look at a strange tracking on the ground. The print was so large you could see it from the bus. Coach Frank touched it and then stood up. He turned to say something to Coach Harris, but never got the words out. A giant, dog-like creature snagged him up before he could.

The monstrosity was eating at Frank’s face. A cascade of red decorated the ground around him like a grotesque Jackson Pollock painting. Coach Harris threw his hands over his head and froze. Everyone in the bus was screaming at him to run. Preston jumped in the driver’s seat and swung the door open.

“Coach!” Preston yelled, getting his attention. “Come on! We gotta go!”

Coach Harris snapped back into reality and sprinted towards the bus. For a man in his late 50s, he was gaining quick ground. Preston briefly thought of himself at that age and hoped he would still be that fit. That he could still move that fast. Unfortunately, being in shape didn’t help much; the creature was just faster.

The creature bit down on Coach Harris’s leg as soon as he reached the steps. Preston grabbed his coach’s arm and tried to pull him back in. The beast just pulled harder. Like a game of tug of war, except Coach Harris was the rope. Preston kept a death grip on his coach. Nobody else on the bus was doing much of anything but yelling.

“Close the door!” cried Catherine.

“Somebody help me fucking pull him!” a desperate Preston demanded. His grip was weakening.

Duncan jumped over and grabbed Coach Harris’s other hand. The two of them were able to pull their coach into the bus. His right foot, however, didn’t make the cut. A gory peg now took its place. So much blood was spilling from it that it’d be hard to tell the floor was once black. Preston hooked his arm under Coach Harris and pulled him back.

“Is he dead?” asked Jim Henke. His finger shook in the air as he pointed at Coach Harris. It shook so fast you could barely even see it.

Preston felt for a pulse on his neck. “He has a pulse, but he’s losing a shit ton of blood.” He turned to his teammates. “Does anyone know how to stop the bleeding?”

“My mom is a surgeon,” Shaylee piped up from the back. “We need something to tie over the wound. And lots of pressure.”

Kirk pulled a jersey from his bag and handed it to Preston. He tried his best to wrap it up. Coach Harris’s bloody stump soaked the white away from the jersey. “I need something to tie it!” Preston called. Shaylee quickly presented her ponytail holder. Preston was able to wrap it around the stump. Duncan and Kirk laid Coach Harris across one of the seats towards the middle of the bus. One of the boy’s backpacks was used to prop his head up.

“So what now?” Duncan asked Preston. The entire bus was staring at them.

“We wait for someone to drive by, then yell like crazy,” Preston said, not even convincing himself. “Or we wait for that thing to leave.”

Preston looked out the front window. The beast was still there. It was circling the bus at a methodical pace. Its snout was long, and two sharp teeth spilled out of it. The beast was tall, that was obvious even on all fours. Its gray fur shone in the moonlight. Coach Frank’s blood was still dripping from its mouth. The scene reminded Preston of a horror movie poster. Something he’d put on his wall.

“What is it?” asked Jim from the back. “Some sort of wolf?”

“Nah, when’s the last time you saw a wolf that big?” Kirk scoffed. “That thing almost looks human.”

“I don’t just go around looking at wolves, man! I’m just throwing out a guess.”

“Doesn’t matter what it is,” Duncan piped up. “It doesn’t care what we are. It just wants to kill us.”

The glow of headlights could subtly be seen in the distance. The hum of the car’s engine never sounded so good. They all beat on the window and yelled Help. Catherine and Shaylee used their phone lights and flashed them out the window. Kirk was even brave enough to pull the window open and flail his arms out of it. None of it worked. The car just kept driving.

“Nobody has a signal?” Preston asked the group. He pointed at Catherine specifically, who just shook her head in response. “Come on, not even you? I know your mom can afford the unlimited plan.”

“My phone’s dead,” Catherine admitted. She handed it to Preston. “I promise.”

He slammed the Phone on the ground and stomped on it. He rubbed his hands through his now sweat-drenched hair. He pointed at Jim. “Henke!” he called frantically. “You’ve been playing music. You gotta have some sort of signal.”

“My songs are downloaded beforehand, man. I’ve been offline for like ten miles,” Jim said. “Besides, I tried to call my folks earlier, and it didn’t go through.”

Preston was at a loss. He sat down and just gazed through the window. He was looking at nothing in particular. It was that very nothingness that brought a stark realization. The beast was gone.

“I think it left,” Preston said quietly to himself to check if the words felt real. “Guys, I think it’s gone!” He announced suddenly. “Ever since that car drove by. Haven’t seen or heard it.”

“So?” asked Duncan. “We’re still in a bus that won’t run with phones that won’t call on a road where car’s wont see us. Plus, I’m not too convinced that thing’s not still out there, just waiting for us to do something dumb.”

“There’s a gas station down there. I know you saw it,” Preston said. “It’s only about fifty yards down that hill. We literally do that for warm-ups.”

“Let’s ask the last guy on this bus who stepped out, what he thinks about that idea.” Duncan pointed to the unresponsive Coach Harris. “Or better yet, let’s ask Coach Frank how that went for him!” The faceless corpse of Coach Frank lay just out of sight, but that didn’t stop Preston from imagining it.

“He’s right.” Catherine joined in. “We should try for the station. Now might be our only shot. It could come back at any time. We wouldn’t need the full group. I can go and call for help.”

“No way,” Duncan objected. “If that thing is out there, you’d never outrun it. You saw what it did to Harris!”

“Harris was-”

“Is,” Preston corrected. “He hasn’t died on us yet.”

“Harris is an old man who sits at a desk all day,” she said. “I’ve run track since first grade. I can at least outrun it for fifty yards.”

The group was firmly split into two pools of thought. One-half backed Preston and Catherine’s idea to call for help. The other half were in favor of waiting overnight. Shaylee brought up that finding help would be easier in the daytime. She was dismissed, but the idea gained traction again when Jim regurgitated it a few minutes later. Duncan and Preston were both blue in the face from arguing.

“If you’re going to be a dumbass, I can’t stop you,” Duncan said. “But I’m not letting you send Cat out as bait. At least not alone.”

“I’ll go with her then,” Preston said.

“Fuck it, Me too,” Kirk joined. “Coach always said that I had a fast forty time for a big guy. What’s ten extra yards?”

Preston, Kirk, and Catherine gathered at the front door. A couple more teammates had decided to join in. Two freshmen who usually stayed quiet, Danny and Julian, filled in behind Preston. The two boys rarely saw playing time. Preston hardly knew who they were aside from giving Danny a ride to practice once. Duncan, in the driver’s seat, clutched the lever. He sighed as he waited for a signal.

“You’re making a mistake,” Shaylee said from the back of the bus. “Catherine, you have to see how dumb this is.”

“I don’t see another choice,” Catherine said frankly, not even glancing over to her friend.

Catherine assumed a runner’s stance. She closed her eyes and was no longer on a bus; she was at a track meet. She could smell the overpriced concession stand nachos and hear the roars and murmurs from the lively crowd. She could even see her parents in the stands, cheering her on as they always did. Her neck cracked as she swiveled it back and forth. The popping noises cackled through the bus and brought Catherine back to reality.

Preston whistled and shot a thumbs-up towards Duncan. The doors swung open and five bodies spilled out of it like a pack of ants. Duncan closed the door as soon as Julian made it out, only he hadn’t all the way. The poor bastard’s pant legs were caught in the bus doors. He yelled and rolled around in the grass. “It’s on the fucking roof!” he screamed hoarsely. The beast pounced on the freshman. Duncan’s hand was stuck on the lever as he watched the poor boy get torn apart. Julian’s face was turned into a chew toy.

The others had gained decent ground while the creature was feasting on Julian. Danny tried to look back when he heard the screams, but Preston made sure he kept running. Catherine led the group by a few feet. Kirk kept up at first,

but was losing speed fast. He huffed for air and slowed to the pace of a jog. This made him an easy target. The beast, seemingly finished with Julian, leaped towards Kirk. With each leap, the beast was able to gain 10 feet. Its long legs made each stride aggressively efficient. Kirk tried to run faster, but his feet didn’t cooperate.

“Oh god!” Kirk wailed in pure agony as the beast’s claws dug through his stomach. The squishing and munching sounds proved too much for Danny. The kid stopped running and turned towards Kirk. They made eye contact, and piss trickled down his pant leg. Preston, who was nearing the gas station, noticed Danny was lagging.

“Danny, you have to run!” Preston said, running backward. “Come on, let’s go!”

Another beast, this one notably smaller, thrust from the trees, running straight towards Danny. Danny didn’t run. He didn’t even scream. He closed his eyes and extended his arms. He was ready for his fate. He welcomed it. The small creature didn’t kill Danny at first. It took its time. It played with the boy like a bored puppy. It tore his right ear off and tossed it around the air for a bit before chewing on his leg bone. The bigger beast had joined in and began eating Danny’s body.

Catherine and Preston made it to the gas station doors. They tried the door; locked. A man was inside staring from the window. They both beat on the glass doors. “Let us in, you fuck!” yelled Catherine. Foamy chunks of spit flew with her words. The man inside the gas station turned the inside lights off and retreated towards the back. Preston kicked the door as hard as he could. No luck. The beasts both turned their attention to the students. They stalked around slowly. A growl was coming from the small one. It was human-like. The tone of a small child emanated from an unimaginable terror. Preston shot a look at Catherine.

“When I scream, run like hell,” Preston calmly told her.

“What?”

Preston charged at the beast. He yelled, a deep bassy sound that instantly set the beasts off. The larger one tackled him to the ground. The small one circled Preston’s body in excitement. Preston’s face was engulfed in the claw of the large beast. In one squeeze, he was dead. Catherine heard his skull exploding as she booked it toward the bus. Duncan saw her coming and opened the door, finally releasing Julian’s body. Catherine jumped in, slamming her face on the steps in the process. Shaylee pulled her in, and Duncan swiftly shut the door.

“I fucking told you,” Duncan whispered at first. “I fucking told you to stay in the goddamn bus!” he was yelling now. Blue veins made themselves apparent on his forehead. “You wanted to play hero, and now they’re fucking dead! Do you feel like a fucking hero, Catherine?”

Catherine was on the floor of the bus, sobbing her eyes out. Shaylee was down there with her, hugging her inconsolable friend as she trashed around. Jim awkwardly placed his hand on Catherine’s back. The few others left just stared at Catherine like she was a zoo animal or an art exhibit.

“That’s not helping Duncan,” Shaylee said. “She thought she was helping. We’re all scared.”

Duncan repeatedly slammed his head on the top of the steering wheel. He did it enough to make himself bleed. The last smack was especially hard. Duncan just rested his head there for a while. He pretended to be dead. It was a nice feeling, at least while it lasted.

Coach Harris’s chest was puffing up and down violently. His eyes were open for the first time in hours. You could only see white. His pupils had completely disappeared. He wiggled around in pain. “Help,” he’d weakly mutter every few seconds. Shaylee sprang up and went to his seat. She grabbed the man’s hand, at which point he violently began to seize. Foam was dispensing from his mouth. He had become a macabre Pez toy. He eventually stopped. Shaylee felt for a pulse in his neck. She then moved to his wrist.

“He’s gone,” Shaylee said somberly.

Silent dread was all over the place. For a few hours, nobody talked. Most of them watched the creatures outside. The Larger one was out of sight, but its child was running around. It had Preston’s severed hand in its mouth and displayed it proudly to the kids in the bus. Duncan stared down at Julian’s body. He tried filling his head with excuses, but couldn’t fight the feeling that it was his fault. If only he’d opened the door faster. That freshman kid might still be alive.

Jim broke into the snack cooler. A slew of colorful sports drinks floated through the ice along with bags of orange slices and packages of string cheese. Jim grabbed a few bags of Orange slices and handed two of them to Shaylee and Catherine. He passed the string cheese packs to everyone but Duncan, who refused to eat.

“What do you think the other bus is thinking?” Jim said to nobody in particular. “Think they’ve sent help yet?”

Nobody answered. Besides a pity nod from Shaylee, it seemed like nobody even heard his question. Jim hunkered back in his seat and munched on a string cheese. He was too hungry to worry about pulling it apart. He just ate it as a full piece. The bus was silent. Everyone but Catherine and Duncan had drifted into sleep. Duncan watched as the large beast returned from the forest and stood on two feet menacingly in front of the bus. He was starting to lose hope.

The red and blue flashing of a cop car illuminated the night as it barreled through the back road. It stopped mere feet in front of the creature. The headlights put a spotlight on the blood-stained fur. Duncan couldn’t believe his eyes. He jumped out of his seat in excitement.

“Guys! Wake up! We’re getting out of here!”

Catherine and Shaylee were the first to wake. They tapped Jim on the leg, and he joined them at the door. The rest of the bus was slowly waking. Officer Simpson exited the cop car. He approached the beast confidently. Not showing any fear whatsoever. The man pulled a remote-looking device from his pocket and pressed a button. At that moment, both beasts dropped to the ground, unconscious. Simpson’s partner, Officer Yates, got out behind him and held his pistol. Officer Simpson beckoned for the kids to exit the bus.

Duncan was overwhelmed with emotions. He couldn’t even tell whether the guttural noises coming from him were cries or laughs. Catherine and Shaylee held each other as they walked down the steps. Jim almost made it out when their bodies hit the ground.

Officer Yates picked the kids off one by one as they sleepily exited the bus. His head shots hit with terrifying precision. He missed Jim but was still able to get him in the throat. Even when he missed, he killed. The last few kids stayed on the bus. He entered and made quick work. The shots echoed around the empty road. Yates joined Simpson in looking at the carnage.

“They can’t keep losing these things,” Simpson said. “What the hell are we supposed to tell the papers?”

“The coach was a drunk,” Yates responded deadpan. “Plant a few bottles and nobody’s gonna think twice. It’s not uncommon for cars to wrap around trees out here.”

Officer Simpson lit a cigarette and looked at the sleeping beasts. They were peaceful, gorgeous even. The smoke swirled around the pile of dead teenagers by the bus. Duncan’s hopeful expression was forever printed on his face as his lifeless eyes met the full moon in the sky.

Coach Harris and Frank were blamed for the death of the 15 kids on the bus that day. Harris had his name struck from the school records as if the man never existed. In fact, none of these kids were ever talked about again. The company that made the beasts paid millions to ensure that.