Title: Voice of Descent

Rating: T

Notes: Oneshot. OOC. TWT.

Warnings: Death.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am associated in anyway with The O.C its characters, writers or creators, this is pure fanfiction in which no profit will be made.

Beta: Jenni-Wren

Author: Uchihasasukekun07

Summary: When you see your children off in the morning you do not think twice about not seeing them again in the evening, how cruel life can truly be, made even more so when you learn of how simple it can happen.

Thursday Afternoon: 4.20 p.m.

Nothingness.

That is what I finally decided what I was feeling. That and I had lost my shoe. That was more irritating than the nothingness which I was used to feeling. The shoes were a new pair that were only bought for me yesterday.

I was on lying on my side. Why?

I did not know.

I was on a bus. I was on a bus that was on its side. Why?

I did not know and I was still feeling nothing which I had decided was probably a good thing.

I started to move from my instinctual foetal position, listening to the tinkling sound that glass made as I dragged my arm under me to support my weight. Rising slightly, I tried to gather my bearings. I was alone in my row of seats. The bus had landed on a grass ditch on its side, my side. It had to be. When my head hit the glass, it had hit the grass and that is why my brain wasn't splattered on a road way. I doubled checked the grass to make sure there was no brain matter of mine. Nope. There was blood though, and lots of it.

Nothingness disappeared. Giddiness took over. Why though, I was not sure. Because I survived? Maybe. Or was it how my fear had decided to manifest itself? Most likely.

I drew my knees under me and slowly rose hitting my head off the air-con. Talk about disorientation. I was kneeling in a window pane and yet I still managed to hit my head off what was the over head shelf. Rising to a crouch, I finally started to absorb my surroundings beyond my immediate self. It was a mangled mess of steel, glass, bags and school books. The dust of the ancient seats swirl around the thick air. I could hear faint moaning and the hissing of the air pressure of the brakes. Looking up the window above me was badly strained but had not smashed. I couldn't tell one end of the bus from the other.

Giddiness disappeared. Genuine fear took over. I was trapped. I couldn't see anyone; I could only faintly hear them. I wanted to go home. I wanted my parents. I felt warmth travel down my legs. Yes I had just pissed myself but was jubilant at the fact it wasn't blood. Unlike the films we had so often watched I didn't vault up the sideways seats to the isle and clamber heroically to safety saving Tom, Dick and Harry along the way. No, it took several attempts to even get my spaghetti arms and legs to move, never mind get the strength behind them to clamber up the seats. My missing shoe annoyed me as my toes became tangled in a seat belt. The seat belts in which nobody was wearing. The seat belts which we should have all been wearing. I reached the side of the seats and immediately fell forward down into the next row.

Fear subsided. Vomit rose. I found someone. Luke. Or what looked like Luke. It was hard to tell, half his head was missing, and a stone mile road marker was there instead. There was nothing I could do. I puked both on myself and on Luke. God forgive me. I retched and retched till I could retch no more. Then I cried. Pain was creeping up and in from everywhere. I really wanted to go home. I moved my trembling arms and legs again to climb back up on the side of the seats. I was loosing it; I could feel the fear eating at every fibre of my conscious body. I moved like a snail down the half the length of the bus till I could go no further. The fear had seized me. Lindsey was trapped. The one person who had worn their seat belt. She screamed and screamed at me but I could not hear her. I did not want to hear her. I just looked at her from my perch and cried. Man or boy I didn't care if she thought I had no dignity. I am only human. Men can be afraid too and that is what I was. Petrified.

I shook like a leaf trying not to fall in on top of Lindsey, nor back into the row behind her. I no longer had the strength. From above us there was a dull thumping sound. The glass gave away easily as it rained down on us. It felt like been removed from a vacuum as cold air rushed in around me. From above me arms and hands came clamping down on my weakening arms. I honestly thought they would not be able to keep a hold on me, that my arms would slip out and quiver like Olive from Popeye. But thankfully I was wrong as I felt myself been lifted up from my perch. My shoulders screamed in protest as my urine saturated jean covered legs dangled uselessly along with my one shoe...

Outside was a nasty assault on the senses. Much like what a newborn must feel like having been pulled from its mother's womb. It allowed my fear to manifest as I willed the comfort of nothingness to come back to me. More hands grabbed my torso as they dragged my useless spaghetti legs out. Passed from one set of arms to another I allowed the brightly coloured men to wrap a heavy blanket around me and carry me down to terra ferma. I looked to the side to greet the underside of our bus. The air pressure had dissipated leaving only the sound of the engine cooling as the metal contracted.

It was the noise of the surroundings that assaulted my senses. The wail of sirens and they flashed their blue and red lights. The loud drone of voices, the dull clumping of feet moving, the rattling of generators providing the sea of florescent lighting, that highlight the mist rain. It was like stepping into a war zone. When the set of hands finally released their sturdy hold I felt myself wandering into the sea of people.

People I recognized, others I didn't. Some bleeding profusely others sporting large bandages. Some walking, some hobbling, some been dragged carefully, some been lifted. The road, glistening in the artificial light decorated with shards of glass that glinted with the moving lights. School bags and books strewing around, pages flapping in the wind. The odd shoe lying on its own none which were mine. Exhaustion hit me like a punch in the face. The road looking so tempting, I wandered a bit further to get away from the noise. I never did like crowds and I was sure this direction was the direction of home.

How I ended up on my knees I wasn't sure. Nor was I sure of who's hands were holding each upper arm of mine, nor did I know the face of the man that was looking at me. His mouth was moving and as far as I was concerned it was gobbldy-gook. I looked at the other man with the hard hat but couldn't understand him either. They lifted me up off my knees but my legs gave way. I was now one of the ones been carried as they hooked their arms under my knees and under my arm pits and carried me back into the chaos. I want to apologize for pissing myself and puking on myself too. Most importantly I wanted to apologize for my missing shoe. I wasn't sure if they understood me so I tried again. They looked at me with sympathy and I'm sure they looked at my soaked sock. I wiggled my toes as the three of us mourned the loss of my shoe.

It was the bright lights of the ambulance when the pain behind my eyes surfaced. It was so utterly confusing with all the faces and rubber hands and the poking and prodding. God, the blood, there was so much of it. A man kept pressing against my head. The white material just became deep crimson no matter how many he used. It was hard for them to tell if my blood stained clothes was my blood or everyone else's so they had to check, my tongue was still too big in my mouth for me to make any sense. They took my jeans, I didn't mind they were soiled, they took my shirt and t-shirt, which I did mind; they were a good combination. They took my other shoe, I minded. I felt myself crying again and so I cried myself to sleep. They told me not to, to stay awake, but I didn't like them anymore so I went to sleep despite their instructions.

I never did find my shoe.

Because I never did wake up again.

Thursday Evening: 5.20 p.m.

"Hello?"

"Madame, my name is Dr. John Clifford. I am an intern at the Newport hospital-"

"Oh my god Jay!?"

"No Madame, it is a -." The reception on the phone cut to static.

"....."

"Madame, am I correct in saying that he is -?" The phone cut out again.

"....."

"Madame?"

In the background the intern could here the rustling of movement and the sound of an engine as a car was pulling over, followed by the sound of the volume on the radio been raised.

"At 4.20pm today there was a school bus crash on the Newport coastal road near Newport bay. It is unknown at this time if there are any fatalities. The department of health has but in place its emergency plan which was designed should such an event of this scale occurred. It is believed the bus, from the Harbor High School was carrying thirty students and four teachers at the time of the crash. The cause of it is unknown at this time but it is believed that the sudden downpour this morning may have led to slippery road conditions, which may have been a factor. It is unknown if the school children were wearing their seat belts. Those concerned should contact the school on-"

Thursday Afternoon: 4.40 p.m.

With such a large crash site it was hard to keep track of the madness that was unfolding. The bus had lost control, skidded, rolled and twisted so it ended up in the ditch on the opposite side of the road facing the wrong direction. It was on its side, the side that passengers would board. With the force of the impact the windows had smashed. The road was littered with miniscule shards of glass that glittered with the flashing lights of the fire brigade, police and ambulances. Coming from the eyes of professionals, the scene was one of horror. No matter how many one had seen, each one was just as difficult as the last. Like trudging through a mind field, school bags, books, and odd shoe were strewn amongst the mess thrown from the bus as it journeyed to its final resting place. Their stomachs churned knowing it could have been their child. The oppressive atmosphere was crippling as the over powering noise of screaming and crying coupled with the hissing from the bus and the wail of the sirens. They had a job to do and it was to save as many as they could. As they closed nearer to the bus they could see that bus seats had also been thrown, with the bodies lying close to them.

Elsewhere other emergency services were quickly trying to help students clamber through the sunroofs, others through the windows of the bus. With the able bodied freed, those that were trapped in the mangled steel frame were next. Cutting the seats away, they were able to free and lift out a few more. Then came the inevitable; the ones that didn't make it. The ones whose faces were crushed beyond recognition and the others with nothing more than a mere scratch and yet their empty eyes stared back. For them it was too late. Within the shell of the bus, protected from the madness of outside the few emergency service people looked at one another and at the young lives that were taken. The lumps grew in their throats as they thought of there little ones, dreading the idea of getting that call. Feeling the grief any parent, family member, friend would feel as news filtered. Saying a silent prayer, they closed the five sets of eyes that would remain on the bus for a few hours more. The five would remain, alone, trapped while those outside were reunited with their families. They would remain alone as would their families that were left behind, left a few feet away. So close yet so far, unable to see, touch, hold, unable to match the images in their mind.

News had filtered out as desperate families arrived; clinging to their children as they saw them emerge from the smoke filled site. How the children clutch at their parents, overjoyed at a second chance. Others desperately sought for information of their beloved's before following closely the stream of ambulances under the watchful, sorrowful eyes of the locals. All while the five un-named students waited.

He was one of the last to be spotted. He was caught wandering away from the hustle and bustle. Concerned residents tried to stop him but he continued to stumble forward. A paramedic carefully took his arm to halt his advance. Standing in front of the young boy he spoke but the boy did not respond. He looked absently off. As the paramedic tried to treat the boy, the boy tried to leave. Understanding that he was in shock, the paramedic forced the boy back through the site to an awaiting ambulance, two of them carrying him when he lost the strength to support himself. The boy cringed at the flashing blue and red lights and even more so at the bus. He tried to make for the bus but another man was now helping to lift the boy again. Together they carefully placed the trembling boy into the ambulance.

The boy looked at his warped refection at the bottom of the chrome basin he was handed. Blood dripped from his hung head and as his eyes follow further down his body, they continued to roll. The paramedic turned sharply around as the clang of the chrome basin preceded the slumping boy. They urged him to stay awake as they cut off his clothes to treat his injuries but the boy fell into teary unconsciousness. And it was he that brought up the rear of the last of the survivors. Darkness descended as spotlights illuminated in a cold eerie way the now site of perpetual stillness for five remaining students.

Thursday Evening: 6 p.m.

Sandy and Kirsten remain silent as they navigated the maze like corridors of the hospital. As if barging through the doors would grant them instant attention. But like them the waiting room was full of anxious parents. Sandy weaved his way through to a stress nurse.

"My two sons-"

"Sir, I understand you're anxious-"

"Where are my two boys!?"

"Sir! Please! There is a list of the names of students on the notice board, if your sons' names are there please talk to the nurse standing by it, she will bring you to them, if their names are not we have to ask you to wait patiently, we are still receiving students from the crash site."

The two fought their way to the notice board and nervously scanned the sheet.

"Sandy I can't see their names!"

"Read it carefully..." Sandy replied trying to stop his voice from breaking.

"Seth! There's Seth's name!" Kirsten exclaimed relief washing over her briefly.

"I can't see Ryan's, where is it?" Sandy breathed through gritted teeth, fear claiming him again.

"He's not on that list." A familiar voice rang out as both Sandy and Kirsten looked over at the woman fiddling with a cigarette.

"Dawn!?"

"They took my boy away." She replied matter-of-factly, "That list there is only for the minor injuries." She continued pointing at the list.

"Why? How?" Kirsten asked processing that Seth was only minor injuries but annoyed that Dawn knew more about Ryan than she did.

"Well apparently they couldn't get through to either of you. Being his mother and all I'm still on the list of contacts. Then again if it was your boy they were ringing about I'm sure they would've got through?" Dawn spat, laughing to herself.

They didn't know what to do. They could smell the drink off her but despite that she had said a very valid point; they both had missed calls from Ryan. It was only two hours later when they were told of what had happened did they realize the tragedy that was unfolding. The guilt had long since settled in.

"Go see your beloved son, go on!" Dawn reared up again unable to cope with the emotions swirling around her. She needed a drink, a stiff one.

"Dawn-"

"Just get the fuck outta here! They only took him ten minutes ago. It'll be another two hours before I hear anything."

Sandy eyed the clock; it read six p.m. nearly two hours since the crash. Without another word Dawn stumbled out. Unsure of what to do they went to the nurse who directed them to where Seth was.

Seth sat on a gurney rocking slowly back and forth. Just like at the bus crash, the second he saw his parents he lunged at them like it was years since he had last seen them and not this morning. Kristen wept as she clung to her little boy for fear he would disappear into thin air. Sandy clung tightly to the two of them. Inspecting Seth from head to toe he was relatively unscathed. His arms and legs had a few grazes from the glass shattering but he was mostly bruised from been thrown around like a rag doll.

"They wouldn't let me go till you two came, what took you so long?"

"Oh Seth, we didn't know, we only heard it on the radio on the way home!"

"That's why they have phones mom! Ryan! What about Ryan? I couldn't find him there. It was such a mess with the screaming and the crying and I made Ryan swap with me 'cause he was beside Summer but he was travel sick and wanted to sit up front but I made him and then the crash and then-and then- I couldn't find him here either!" Seth started to get hysterical recalling what had happened.

"Oh shit!" Seth cried. "It's all my fault! My fault!" Seth started rocking back and forth again.

"Shush honey! It's not your fault. Ryan's fine, he's with the doctors now." Kirsten assured him.

Once he was sure that his son was alright, Sandy went to the parking lot to find Dawn. He found her sitting on the curb drinking out of a brown paper bag. Cheap whiskey Sandy assumed.

"Dawn?" As he drew nearer he could see that she was crying.

"And that makes six." she drawled out.

"Six?" Sandy was unsure of what she was referring to but eyeing the bottle he had a fairly good idea.

"Six." She repeated. "The sixth child that bastard took today." She swore looking to the sky. The rain had begun to mist again.

"That bastard took my baby away! My baby!" Dawn wailed taking another swig of the bottle.

Sandy's stomach dropped.

"What do you mean?"

"What the fuck do you think I mean? My baby didn't make it! The white coat came out and told me, took much pressure on the brain, he bled out on the table, oh god he was such a good little boy, why'd you take him why?" sobbed Dawn wrapping her arms around her middle tightly and began doing what Seth was doing to comfort himself, rocking back and forth.

"He took my Ryan away!"

Time had suddenly stopped for Sandy.

Ryan Atwood was gone. His son was gone. Flipping his phone open he listened to his voice mail again.

"Hey Sandy, it's Ryan, Seth lost his phone in some puddle so, yeah if you need us. Eh, field-trip is wrapping up, we should be back in the school for half four. I tried ringing Kirsten but um-yeah talk to you later, bye."

"Sandy?.......Sandy!?.......-beep beep."

He had sound so lost and desperate in the last voice mail. Covering his face with his hands his whole body shook as he wept. He didn't care who saw him. He didn't care about Dawn either he was so consumed with grief he had yet to tell his remaining son and wife.

Luke Ward

Zack Stevens

Oliver Trask

Taylor Townsend

Lindsey Gardner

Ryan Atwood

'These are the names of the six pupils of Harbor High School who tragically lost their lives in the bus crash of last week. In the light of this event it has brought to light the safety of school buses on which our children travel. Currently the investigation as to why the bus crashed is still under way and while we mourn the loss of these young lives....'

Sandy threw the paper back onto the counter, he was struggling to keep his head above it all. He still had a wife and a child but there was a gaping hole in his chest and the more he read the article the harder the pain burned. He was afraid, he didn't know how he was to cope and the one person he would have confided in was no longer there, the pool house, a void in his world.

It amazed me how obsessed I was over the minor things looking at it now. Then again I look at it as a defense mechanism. If I didn't focus in the minor things who knows, things could have been worse for myself, for the others. Only the scale of it hits you when you observe it from the outside. Six people died that day. Forty-eight people were hurt, some quite badly. Only two people were wearing seat belts, the driver and a conscious student. It was a dilapidated bus, not fit for service for the general public but apparently fit enough for school runs. The assistant braking system failed, the wheels had locked. The bus was traveling under the speed limit. It was a freak accident that all would have survived if they had been wearing seat belts. It's the law now as is the standard of buses. Funny how it takes a tragedy for the law to change. But a change in the law can't bring me back to my foster family, or to my alcoholic mother, nor can it bring the other students back to their families.


A/N: I want to thank my wonderful beta Jenni-Wren for doing a super quick and super helpful job! Your comments and opinions were greatly appreciated (and put into effect!)

I want to thank you also for reading ^^ Please review and let me know what you all think.