Felon lay very still as heavy boots approached. From a half-open eye he saw the barrel of an autoshotgun hover near his face, he grabbed it with his good hand pushed it away, rolled and kicked upward-both feet in its owner’s belly.
Felon was surprised to see Wurn fall over the ship’s rail. The Swimmers tore him to bloody gobbets.
The assassin staggered to his feet. His chest and back were slick with blood. He coughed, blood spilled out. Felon kicked Lucifer over. The Devil’s lips moved-vapors of Ardor steamed off his features. His body drooped, the skin and muscle sagging on the bone but did not evaporate. He was dying, and he had nowhere to go.
Felon dragged him to the sloped front wall of the yacht’s cabin. They left a sticky trail of scarlet. The assassin slumped against the glass, slid to the deck with his arms tight around Lucifer’s chest. They watched.
92 – The Last Lesson
Whistles moved to the mangled back wall of the bus like she was sleepwalking. The gun was out in front of her, it was empty but she kept clicking the trigger at the open space. A low moan started in her that brought more tears from Dawn, and the other forever kids echoed her sadness.
Finally, Mr. Jay pulled himself to his feet and moved to her. He reached out and grabbed the empty gun.
“Reload it,” he said, flipping the revolver open. “And keep fighting.”
“That was Max,” Whistles started and then a girlish squeak came out of her, and a low groan. She turned her face to Mr. Jay. “We never told anybody but he’s my little brother.” And she buried her face in Mr. Jay’s chest.
“Remember him as a boy and a hero- and a little brother,” Mr. Jay whispered, and held her tight, swaying. The bus had developed a rocking unsteady pace. “He bought us time.” He turned to the many sorrowful gazes around and said: “Let’s not waste what he gave us.”
Suddenly a roar thundered overhead and a tremendous light sent bending shadows coursing through the bus. The brilliance shrieked toward the front of the convoy. Then, a blast and horrific crumpling noise! The bus slammed into the vehicles ahead-tires screamed on asphalt, glass shattered. The kids pitched forward as the bus shuddered to a halt.
Dawn had bit her tongue and came up spitting blood. Other kids were cursing or crying, holding wounded limbs.
“A jetfighter!” one girl screamed.
“Almost hit us,” yelled a boy.
Mr. Jay hurried to the front of the bus. Marcus was nursing a bloody nose, but he opened the doors for the magician. Dawn ran forward and slipped through before they closed behind him.
Outside on the ground, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The lead bus was on fire. Many forever kids and drivers were out helping-pulling people from the burning vehicle. Beyond it, she saw that whatever had hurtled in from the sky had hit the ramp to the elevated highway and exploded, collapsing most of the structure. There were flames everywhere, and destruction was spread out in all direction.
The driver, Dahlia, ran back to Mr. Jay. He raised an eyebrow.
Dahlia shook her head and almost wept. “Driver and six kids. Lost.”
“Get the survivors on the other buses,” Mr. Jay said nodding. “Keep moving.” He looked up at the ruined highway. “We’ll go overland.”
Mr. Jay cursed and then jumped when Dawn grabbed his hand. Anger flashed in his eyes when he saw her.
“Get on the bus!” he growled, before turning to Dahlia. “The elevated highway follows the old one. It’ll be grown over but it’s there. Tell the others.”
He knelt by Dawn. “Stick with the other kids!” He shook his head when he saw her lower lip slip out. “Crying won’t always help, and I might not always be around.”
They hurried back onto their bus and waited while kids from the damaged vehicle loaded. The convoy got underway again in minutes, slowly at first as the lead trucks picked their way through brush and overgrown pavement. They finally started making speed as the land flattened out.
Dawn watched the battle to the west and was amazed. It seemed to be rolling closer to them-or spreading out like a grass fire. Even Mr. Jay noticed it and wondered. Apocalypse was growing.
Jets roared overhead and were gone. Then the buses themselves fell strangely silent. And everybody felt a weird quiet. An unnatural calm descended. Everything slowed down. Dawn felt the tension turn sour in her stomach.
“Oh God, NO!” Mr. Jay screamed, and held his walking stick high. “Shut your eyes!” And his walking stick burned white.
There was a flash. Dawn had put her hands up to cover her eyes, and she clearly saw her finger bones. She thought she heard someone scream, and realized it was her. There was another flash of light more powerful than the first-and another. Silence and dry heat pressed in on her. She wanted to scream. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Mr. Jay was shouting. His voice sounded broken as he chanted old words. And then Dawn realized she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not because she could only see white.
And then the sound hit the bus. A horrific roar clamored in, splintered the air with heat. Shook them all off their seats, bellowing it buffeted them on the floor. It heaved the vehicle skyward and almost pitched it over. For a second, Dawn thought it was a Hellhound. But there was too much heat and too much light. And the bus bounced, and all the kids were thrown up to the ceiling. Dawn pressed her hands over her ears as the thunder cracked and roared.
Then it was still bright, and the bus stopped having that sideways sliding feeling, and there was no more roaring. Distantly, like she’d gone partly deaf, Dawn could hear the rumble of the engine and grunt of gears shifting-vibrations came up through the floor.
She opened her eyes and saw Mr. Jay across from her. He still held the walking stick over his head, but it was bent. It drooped down to either side of his fist like a piece of licorice. His lips still mumbled unfamiliar words and his eyes were half-closed. Then they opened, and he looked at her. Sorrow mixed with joy on his face as he reached out and pulled her into his embrace.
“Oh Dawn! I’m so sorry,” he cried, but pulled away from her smiling. Then his eyes saw something past her shoulder and his expression changed to horror.
Dawn turned to look. The City was burning. All its many levels had dropped or folded down. The steel and concrete was mangled-cinders and flames billowed off the mammoth pile toward a massive mushroom cloud that ripped a hole through the thick overcast. The land around the city was burning, trees, grass and all. And in the flames on the ground Dawn saw shapes of things on fire. Things like trucks and buildings, and things like people and bigger things-writhing in the inferno.
She felt Mr. Jay’s arms go rigid as four flaming shapes steamed out of the holocaust. Just fire and coals at first, they soon resolved, took the shapes of men on horseback.
Mr. Jay turned her in his embrace. She didn’t like his look. Behind him she saw the other forever children had gathered, were hanging over the seats watching as the buses drove as fast and as far as possible.
“Don’t go!” Dawn screamed, feeling suddenly that she was about to lose him.
“I’m sorry Dawn.” He hugged her and then got to his knees-hands stroking her hair.
Then they all heard the pounding horse’s hooves. Galloping fast, the clink and jangle of harness, the constant throaty breath of a horse running full out. Dawn saw the other forever kids’ eyes go round with fear.
“He forgets himself,” Mr. Jay said and Dawn looked back. Against the orange fires of the dead city, there rode a pale man on a pale horse. Both were like skeletons in shape, what flesh they had was stringy muscle stretched over yellow bones. And the face of the rider was pale without skin, and his eye sockets were empty, and his exposed teeth gnashed with unspeakable hunger.