Prologue

January 15th 16:43

Maxine McKenzie shifted in her front row seat, gazing tiredly out of the window into the darkness. There was no moon out, but the stars were perfectly visible with the absence of synthetic light in the mountains of the Scottish highlands. Well, fairly far north anyway. Maxine wasn't a person who was easily exhausted- she doubted that would impress the parents of the 300-ish students she taught, not that their opinions mattered much these days- but nonetheless, she had been travelling for at least nine hours now, with only two very brief service station breaks. Lethargic, that's what she was. Should a P.E instructor spend so much time on her arse? No.

Sadly, some of the forty-two weren't quite so content to keep themselves quiet. Many were fuelled, no doubt, by half a dozen or so cans of Red Bull- a rare luxury that had not been prohibited or rationed- that had slipped down their throats. Some still had a mental age at which Red Bull was hardcore, bless them.

'Steve, put your kechs back on, tosser!'

'It's bloody boiling!'

'In January?!'

'Do I give a fu- damn?' He'd glimpsed Ms. McKenzie's open eyes in the reflection of the window.

As the only member of staff on the bus, Maxine felt it her duty to acknowledge this rowdy behaviour, which she did merely by eyeballing Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) half-heartedly. He grinned back at her, but dropped his voice by about an octave. Maxine was surprised he bothered. With the amount of sugar and caffeine inside him, given his already… self-confident nature, he may well have asked Maxine whether she wanted to join him a few rows back. In her mid-thirties, but with a toned body and a freckled, fun-loving face, Maxine McKenzie was regarded as something of a 'MILF' (though she'd never had children, and never would) by much of the 21 testosterone-charged boys in the vehicle. She was too easy-going to be offended by it, but besides, what could she do?

At the moment, she was more concerned about the other adult on the bus. The bus driver, an elderly man named Max (he had felt much merriment when Maxine had instructed him to call her 'Max' rather than 'Ms. McKenzie') had been chatting to her animatedly the whole journey. He was about eighty years old, and drove at a snail's pace (hence the ludicrously long-winded journey) and tried to avoid the main roads, to Maxine's annoyance. Anyway, Maxine had wound him up and let him go. His family, his holidays, the weather, the war- Maxine could have written his biography.

'I just love driving. Always have. Gives me a chance to meet young lasses like yourself' he'd joked, winking at her. Maxine smiled back. He was just about old enough to get away with it. That and talking endlessly. Now, however, he had fallen silent. I hope that's all it is.

'Ahem, Max, are you OK?'

He jolted back slightly. Nerves. 'We- I've got to switch with another driver. A few miles back. I-I'm sorry, pet, I just forgot.'

'Who told you this?' Is he imagining things?

'I can't remember his name, but it was only yesterday. Plans haven't changed.'

Great. Just what I need. Wait, maybe we can get there quicker now, with a different driver. 'It's fine' she reassured him. 'Just turn around, and we'll go back the way we came'.

'I forgot where the turning was, too'.

What the hell is this guy still doing on the road? 'Well… stop and we'll take a look at the map.'

'What's going on?' enquired a particularly child-like girl near the front

'Are we lost?' This was a one of Steve's mates, Sebastian Hall (Boy #7)

'Shit,' muttered a female voice.

'Be quiet!' Maxine snapped. 'We're not lost. Anyway, what are you, ten years old or Year 10?' Maxine was overreacting. She wasn't patient by nature.

'I got a call from Louise in 10E,' piped up the same young-looking girl. 'They arrived in Fort William over an hour ago!'

She was referring to another of the three year 10 classes participating in the annual school trip. Each year the venue changed, (this year, a long weekend at an outdoors adventure centre was planned) but each class always travelled in a different bus, as school policy dictated. The country demanded order, and nowhere was this more important than in education.

Maxine turned back to their distressed driver, who was surveying the map. They were in the middle of nowhere, but the road could be identified. Maxine eventually demanded that Max contact the company and give them their location. The old man quailed slightly. 'Can't we just turn round and look for them?'

'NO!!' Maxine was losing her composure. For God's sake, those guys, whoever the hell they were, could be back in England. All she had was Max's word. 'Gimme the phone and the number. Now. They're going to come to us.'

17:26

When Max had said 'a few miles back', he hadn't been kidding. Within ten minutes of Maxine's rather brief and assertive conversation with an unnamed man, an almost empty coach pulled up in front of the bus. The P.E. teacher climbed wearily down the steps and spoke briefly with a two men; one was middle-aged and the other couldn't have been more than about twenty.

They all shook hands.

'We're new employees of Classic Coaches. This route coincided with one that we were doing. We thought Max might not be up to the whole route.' This was the younger one who spoke, in a whisper (though it wasn't quite low enough, 'ageist bugger' was audible from Max's direction).

'Well then, why didn't you arrange an earlier meeting point?' Maxine had seen on the map that they were less than an hour away from their destination.

'Like he said,' the older man replied sharply, 'we were in the area. We run a tight schedule. Can we proceed?' Apparently he was the one continuing the journey. He had steel grey hair, and look of ferocity in his eyes. Maxine was, uncharacteristically, quite intimidated.

She bade farewell to Max (whom she regretted being so sharp with) and the young driver (whose name she didn't learn), both of whom insisted on kissing her on the cheek. Maxine boarded the bus to cries of:

'Cradle-snatcher!'

'Toygirl!'

'Paedo!'

It was the usual suspects: Steve, Sebastian, and one of the female half of the group Mia Selwyn (Girl #15).

Maxine slumped back into her seat, not responding. The engine started up, and they were on their way once again. Their new driver wasn't the type for conversation, which was lucky, given that Maxine hadn't gotten a good impression of him and wouldn't speak to him anyway.

Speaking…

The noise from behind her had almost completely subsided. Maxine's thoughts had been a million miles away, so she hadn't noticed until now, roughly ten minutes since the bus had resumed its journey. Suspicious, she craned her neck back and saw that most had closed eyes. The others were looking dozy (though Sebastian Hall looked no different than usual).

Huh… figures… it's been a long day- !!!

Suddenly a lot of things made sense to Maxine. She recalled the look on Max's face whenever he mentioned his 'co-workers'. He'd been scared and apprehensive. Then again when those (still nameless) men had arrived. She'd been so stupid. He'd never met them before. He was an old man, who wouldn't ask many questions- no, it couldn't be- why would they…? Maxine's innards twisted in fear. The coach… had it been waiting, surely it would have followed the bus. They'd gotten to us too quickly…

No! This can't be happening to me!

But it was.

Survivor. Of Course.

I'll call for… for help.

No help would come, even if her reflexes had been working to enough capacity to dial a phone, and speak to someone. This was perfectly legal. Maxine could just about stand up. The gas- gas? No- this isn't happening so there can't be gas- right? - which was no doubt circulating her lungs and blood vessels hadn't completely taken over yet. Maxine staggered in her trainers, clutching the rail.

He won't be wearing a mask

He was. Maxine managed to move to get a profile view of the driver before he noticed her standing there.

Check your mirrors, prick.

Maxine's hazy view of him registered shock, but it only lasted a moment. Maxine tried to grab his arm but she just couldn't. There was nothing she could have done.

So… what happens to me now?

The bus was coming up to a sharp corner, and they were driving through the hills. Colin West (for that was his name) - low level government official, reached down below the dashboard and pushed a button, and the double doors flew wide open. Maxine craned her head slightly, and felt a hand on her ribs. Her short, brown hair flew wildly about her pretty face. Less than two seconds later that same face smashed into a slab of cement as Maxine narrowly scraped the side of the road. A whiff of heather caught her nose, as she tumbled through the fauna.

That was all.

The bus trundled along the road- the same road, though it had gone unnoticed- that Old Max had been driving on. The one which definitely did not lead to Fort William. The bus rounded the corner, though Maxine McKenzie definitely did not watch it go.

18:07

Colin West marched, soldier-like, down the gangway, not pausing once to back look at the bus of 42 sleeping children, still just about visible on the small ferry. The Port of Mallaig was a fairly small place and nobody else was actually crossing to the same island. Therefore it was easy for West to explain to the crew that the students would be collected after they crossed. A brief flash of his government I.D. card, and that was all they needed to know.

He'd cut it close; the whole exercise of infiltrating Classic Coaches itself had not been fruitless. After all, though it was unwise to trust anyone in the United Kindom in the current, fascist state it was in now, trust was still needed to an extent. Had a military bus pulled up outside St. Mary's Secondary School almost half a day ago, there's no way the kids would have gone willingly. Firearms, of course, could solve this eventuality, but these kids were.... special, and were needed alive, for what awaited them on the Isle of Kilbride. Since West and his- er- assistant Jack Willingham, had watched that senile Max drive on, and forget to turn in, they figured it wouldn't matter if they let him continue on, only to reach the Port instead of Fort William. Then, theoretically, West and Willingham would arrive out of nowhere and take over. Unfortunately it hadn't quite worked out like that. But it had gone OK in the end. West just hated kids, even if they were asleep.

This brought him back to that woman...Maxine. His face flushed with hatred. He should have seen the bitch in his rear view mirror, parked up, and waited for the gas to do its magic. Instead, he'd panicked and now she was probably dead, lying remote. It was her own fault. The showrunners of Survivor usually let the teachers go, provided that they didn't discover the location of the game. If she'd just sat tight, then she'd be snoozing on the coach as I took her... wherever I'd been ordered to. As it was, he'd phoned ahead. His superiors weren't happy.

West wasn't proud of his job, though nor was he ashamed. The lack of pride stemmed from the fact that he hadn't had a promotion (taking tonight's balls-up into account, maybe there was a reason), despite being forty-five years old, and he'd been with the govenment at the time the United Kingdom had first become a dictatorship.

That was thirty years ago, and precious little had changed. West sometimes wondered what would have happened to the country if Margaret Thatcher hadn't been assassinated as she first stepped into Number 10. Everyone did. The country had gone into chaos and, seemingly overnight, the present State had formed, though that had happened more gradually. Some remembered a time of choice, of free speech and of laughter. West remembered only the chaos, the delinquents, and the crime. 'Did you have a tough childhood' they all joked. If only they knew.

West had to call for a taxi. This was one of the privileges which came with working for the government. Free cab rides at any time; all I need is this I.D. card he thought, stroking his picture slightly with gnarled hands. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then lit it and brought it to his lips. He looked out to sea as the ship disembarked.

Beautiful place to end everything, the Isle of Kilbride