By John Joseph Adams
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Banshees. Blue-skinned ghouls, storming the bus as if it belonged to them, and why no longer? —they had paid the fare. They got here piling in like grubs, openly bare or donning merely scraps of garments, their black eyes mounted on him with implacable, chilly lust. outdated or younger, male or lady, they craved him. Backing down the aisle he felt like an item; a section of meat. It was once a brand new sensation, being sought after, and never as friendly as he may previously have imagined. top the pack was once the Canadian lady, her light, ideal attractiveness now remodeled into anything washed up at the seashore: all jaws and cartilage and kelp-like crimson hair. That hair obscured her eyes, however it looked as if it would him that they have been messed up—empty holes crying black tears. She got here quickly and there has been no position left to move however the restroom. Ugh. No time to consider it—he fell inside of and became the latch. As violent blows all started falling at the flimsy door, he pressed his again opposed to it, bracing his legs opposed to the other wall. They didn’t hand over. They weren’t going to renounce. Ever. himself within the reflect, he notion, this is often it, guy: now you’re caught like this. Trapped for eternity in a Mexican rest room, with girls clamoring for his body—it needed to be a shaggy dog story. the idea wrung a ragged, involuntary snicker out of him, or was once it a scream? He clamped his palms over his mouth to silence it. Please God allow it's a funny story. The pounding grew to become extra frenzied, jarring his backbone. the full bus shook with it. because the door deformed in its body, blue arms wormed in on the vulnerable spots, clamping tight and pulling with inhuman strength—any moment they have been going to tear the article correct off its hinges. the guy closed his eyes, whimpering via gritted teeth…when all of sudden the hammering stopped. as though through magic, the monsters disappeared. Then he learned why. The bus used to be relocating. The reason was once uncomplicated: the driving force hadn’t set the brake, they have been on an incline, so the bus was once rolling backwards. It glanced off one other car, then tipped sickeningly over the sting of the roadway and down the excessive financial institution. Veering sharply correct from the attitude of its tires, it toppled over onto its facet, hitting the desolate tract flooring like a superb carcass. The younger guy emerged. He climbed out of the motor vehicle and dropped to the sand, vomiting his guts out. He used to be dyed blue from head to foot, soaked with uncooked sewage and the disinfectant liquid from the exploded bathroom. Defenseless, half-blind, he anticipated to be attacked any moment. while no maniacs got here for him, he discovered their fevered awareness used to be being drawn elsewhere—to a caravan of latest arrivals. He may well pay attention the screams. It used to be a hellish fly seize up there, with extra flies arriving by way of the minute. Down the following, at the hours of darkness, he used to be already forgotten. Hugging his aching ribs, he dragged himself as faraway from the line as he may, a mile or extra, huddling less than a bush amid stands of tall cacti. At one time he could were anxious approximately snakes or scorpions, yet now he didn’t care approximately a lot of something. He might wait right here till morning—wait for aid to come back.