The Gathering Storm (Surviving the Fall 2)

“Hey, how long will the ride through the city take?”

The soldier glanced over at Rick before replying. “About half an hour, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to stay behind the yellow line, though, and remain seated.”

“Sure thing.” Rick sat down in the front row, put his arms on the railing in front of him and rested his chin on his forearms. “How many people have you brought through to Nellis?”

The soldier glanced at Rick again to make sure he was following the previous request before responding. “This is our third run.”

“Wow, that many already?”

“A lot of people have been coming out of the Los Angeles area.”

“I’ll bet. It was like a warzone there when I left. Can’t believe how bad it’s gotten.”

The soldier snorted and shook his head. “It’s worse in other places. It’s all that damned virus.”

Rick felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he leaned forward in his seat. “Virus? An infection?”

“No, no.” The soldier laughed. “No zombies. I mean a computer virus. It was some kind of super virus. Wiped out the stock exchange, destroyed everyone’s cars. I heard that a few nukes blew up in their bunkers, too. That might be just rumor, though.”

“A computer virus did… all of this?” Rick shook his head. “That shouldn’t be possible for a virus to cause this level of damage. These are all systems running on different platforms with different code bases… there’s no way.”

The soldier shrugged and continued talking, warming up to Rick the more he spoke. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. It doesn?

?t seem possible to me, either, but that’s what they’ve told us.”

Rick was lost in thought and shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what the soldier was telling him. If it was true—and it was a big “if” in his opinion—then he was having a hard time imagining how such a virus could be created.

Rick was lost in his own thoughts when the bus lurched forward as the soldier hit the brakes. “What happened?” Rick barely caught himself from falling over and pulled himself up to his feet to see what was going on.

The soldier, meanwhile, was completely ignoring Rick and was instead speaking into a walkie-talkie he had pulled from his hip. “Three o’clock and nine o’clock? Roger that. We’ll follow you through on route Golf. Out.”

The buses ahead began turning off to the right, heading down a side street. Rick held on tightly to the railing in front of him as his bus did the same, and he questioned the soldier again. “What’s going on? Are we in trouble?”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to return to your seat.” The soldier’s voice was rigid again and Rick sensed that their few moments of casual conversation were over.

“Sure thing. Sorry about that.” Rick got up and walked to his seat in the back. The few people who were with him on the bus were all looking out the windows and their expressions ranged from exhaustion to fear. When Rick reached his seat the bus lurched again, taking a left down a side street without any warning. Rick was flung to the side and hit his head on the window before he managed to get back into his seat.

He gripped the metal bar on the seat in front of him as he glanced at his bags. Everything was still there aside from a few bottles of water that he had been forced to leave behind in the SUV, though he was worried about the rifle and shotgun in the gun case. The pistol he figured he could hide at the bottom of his backpack, but the long guns would be tough to get into the military base.

“Not that I really want to, mind you.” Rick mumbled to himself as he dug through his backpack and stuffed the pistol down inside. He had just finished sealing the bag again when the bus swung to the right, and the soldier driving the vehicle shouted from the front.

“Everyone, please get down onto the floor!” Gunfire from outside the vehicle punctuated the soldier’s words and everyone on the bus except Rick obeyed, ducking down onto the floor in front of their seats. Rick, on the other hand, kept turning his head around, trying to identify the source of the gunfire. As he did so he swung the backpack onto his back and strapped it on. He pulled the gun case onto his lap afterwards and checked to make sure that the hunting rifle was loaded.

Another turn and the gun case nearly slipped out of Rick’s hands, but he caught it before it hit the floor. Outside, behind the bus, the Humvee driving behind them swiveled its mounted machine gun off to the side and fired a burst at the edge of a building. Brick and mortar turned to dust as the bullets tore apart the building’s façade, though Rick couldn’t make out who or what they were firing at.

“Get your heads down!” The soldier screamed again and the bus lurched one more time. Instead of steadying and straightening out, though, it continued tipping over to the side. Screams came from the other passengers in the bus as it tipped over, slammed into the ground and proceeded to roll two full times. Rick did his best to hold on to the back of the seat in front of him but without any sort of a seatbelt in place there was little he could do to keep from tumbling along with the bus.

Rick yelped in pain as his chest, legs and arms hit the floor, side, ceiling and seats in the bus as it rolled. His backpack took the brunt of the abuse though, and he could hear the cracking and snapping of the food and water bottles as they broke open. The gun case slipped out of his hand on the last roll and went skidding down the bus which came to rest on its side.

Groans of pain came from down the length of the bus as Rick tried to pull himself up onto his hands and knees. Pain shot through both of his palms as he pressed them against the glass and twisted metal below him and he quickly stood to his feet. Pain shot through his chest and back as he stood, making him instantly regret the movement, and he doubled over, grabbing onto one of the seats next to him for support.

“Help…” The voice from behind Rick was soft and full of agony. He turned to see the soldier trying to pull himself along through the broken glass. Blood poured from wounds on his face and neck, and though Rick was no doctor he could see that the soldier was in rough shape. He hobbled along through the bus, cringing as he passed two of the other passengers whose necks were twisted into odd positions. When he reached the soldier he helped the man to his knees and looked him over.

“Where does it hurt?” Rick pulled off his backpack and dug through it. Pain lanced through his hands from cuts he suffered and blood stained the clothing and supplies, but he pushed through and grabbed a first aid kit. He had just pulled it out of his backpack when the sound of gunfire came from outside the bus. He instinctively ducked down, pushing the soldier backwards and falling on top of him.

“Where are you hurt?” Rick whispered to the man as the gunfire raged outside the bus. The soldier’s lips were white and his face pale. Though there was a lot of blood on his face and chest, Rick didn’t see any obvious arterial damage until he glanced down at the man’s pants. A jagged piece of metal broken off of the steering column of the bus was embedded in the man’s inner thigh and his entire pant leg was soaked with blood.

“Oh shit!” Rick fumbled with the first aid kit, his fingers bloody and slipping against the clasp. “Come on, dammit!” Gunfire continued to echo outside the bus from multiple directions as Rick pulled out a wad of gauze from the first aid kit and prepared to try and stop the bleeding.