(A/N: I hope everyone is doing okay during this uncertain time! I'm quarantined like most others out there, so I tried to finish up another chapter with my free time. I hope you enjoy it! Also, thank you so so much for the amazing reviews. It is so encouraging to read them and see what specifically you guys are liking about the story. The reviews, favourites, and follows really mean so much to me! Shoutout as always to Anna10473, WickedlyMinx, Animemaniagirl, HorrorFan13, PurpleQueenH, Nicole1024, and Kittycat885 for your incredible reviews.)
I clawed at the arm around my throat, my fingernails digging into the pliant flesh of my assailants arm. The hold loosened slightly, and I gasped, instinctively taking the opportunity to propel my elbow into the soft abdomen of the person behind me. He let out a throaty groan and his arms fell away. Seizing the moment, I took off, not bothering to even glance behind me.
Ahead I could see a chain of yellow school buses, seemingly miles away. I ran as hard as I could in their direction, tearing off my mask as my feet pounded along the pavement in synch with my hammering pulse. I felt mostly numb.
Only seconds passed before my ears perked up to a sound behind me. A feeling of terror surged through me when I realized it was someone in pursuit, their footsteps violently striking the pavement at my back, growing nearer and nearer. I was overcome with panic and let out an involuntary, despondent sob. Despite my efforts and surging adrenaline, I suddenly felt like I was moving in slow motion, like I was pushing my legs through vats of molasses. I wanted to scream but couldn't afford to waste my breath.
Now only a few meters away, I could very nearly feel the heat of my hunter on my back. My lungs burned as I struggled to continue on, but I clung to some futile hope of rescue and refused to look back.
I tried to turn my attention to anything else, and my eyes fell on the familiar black lettering along the sides of the bus, looking strangely blurry and out of focus. At first, I thought my eyes were tricking me, like the head injuries, lack of food and exhaustion were showing themselves in a full tilt hallucination. But as I tried to blink away the illusion, I came to the devastating realization that the buses were moving. I gave everything I had, pushing myself to my limit physically, but nonetheless they quickly slid away, the final sliver of yellow blinking out of sight. My heart felt like it was in my stomach and I choked on another sob that stuck painfully in my throat like a truth too big to swallow.
The defeat weighed heavily on me and I felt myself slowing down, my legs weakening with each step and my adrenaline fading fast. Before I could even take another step, I was yanked backward by the scruff of my top and ricocheted violently toward my assailant, my head and neck whiplashing back. I moaned in pain and my vision blurred. I tried to wriggle away from him, but he held my back to his chest in an impossibly tight embrace, his sinewy arms wrapping around my torso, constricting my arms against my sides. I moved powerlessly against him in rhythm with his belaboured breathing.
"You dumb bitch," He snarled in my ear, his hot breath billowing into my face like a rancid fog.
The tall goon. I recognized his voice immediately.
Ignoring his insult, I thrashed against him like a trapped animal and used my free feet to kick at his legs. He yelped in pain when my shoe made solid contact with his left shin, but his grip never loosened. I guessed he had actually learned his lesson.
"Hey! Hurry the fuck up!" He angrily called to someone behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see the other goon approaching and realized I wasn't going anywhere, at least not on my own free will. I untangled my legs from his, and conceded, feeling shattered and so tired.
Now at a full stop, everything was catching up with me, and I was met with a tidal wave of pain. My legs buckled involuntarily.
Oh, shit. Oh no.
My forgotten head injury was rearing its ugly head once again and it felt like a nuclear bomb had detonated inside my skull. A pounding emanated from behind my eyes and thundered in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut and took deep breaths through my nose and out through my mouth, thinking therapeutic breathing exercises could somehow help, but I found no relief. The discomfort I had experienced up until now felt like nothing in comparison.
A sudden sense of nausea flooded my stomach and sent chills through my body. I groaned, fully knowing what was about to happen. When I was younger I often experienced migraines, a hormonal issue by diagnosis, but it was something I inherited from my mother. My migraines always made me vomit.
"I'm gonna throw up," I moaned.
"Nah, that's not gonna work on me," He growled in response. "Stand up straight."
I could feel the spit collecting in my mouth, lubricating my throat for the prospective onslaught. Before I could even get another word of warning out I was dry heaving violently. Loud, disturbing wretching erupted from my throat and my full body convulsions forced his hands as he released me almost immediately, pushing me away from him. I wished I could've done something then, but the intense pain weighed me down and I tumbled feebly to my knees.
"What the fuck!" I heard him yell over the sounds of my own heaving.
I braced myself up in a crouched kneeling position, my knees stinging against the asphalt. From my spot I continued to dry heave, but I had nothing to give but saliva; unsurprising, as there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. I couldn't remember the last thing I had eaten, or how long it had been. I couldn't even remember when I had last had water.
"Get up," The goon spat at me from above. I could see his boots in my periphery.
"I can't," I whispered hoarsely, staring at the spit soaked pavement between my braced arms.
"Get the fuck up!" He bellowed.
I stopped heaving long enough to try and get to my feet, but the world spun around me. I shakily tried to stand and quickly collapsed back to the pavement, scraping my elbow harshly in the process. I let out a pathetic cry.
"What's wrong with her?" I heard one goon ask the other.
"I think her head's pretty fucked up. She's been knocked around a few times."
Unable to function, I lay down on the pavement, resting my cheek against where it had been warmed by the sun. I wished I could've slept then, but the pounding in my skull was too much to ever find that reprieve.
"Go back to the van, there's something in the glove box we can give her."
I heard the footsteps quickly moving away and I shifted onto my side, curling into myself to try and find comfort. I cradled my head in my hands and hot tears soon welled in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks. I didn't know how I had any tears left.
I laid there for what felt like an eternity, constantly swallowing the gathering spit and stifling the need to vomit that crept up my throat. I didn't even react when a pair of hands grasped onto my upper arms and hoisted me into a sitting position. I opened my eyes only enough to see the taller goon standing in front of me holding out his hand.
"Take this."
With hooded eyes, I peered into his outstretched palm at two simple tiny white pills. In his other hand he held out a crusty looking water bottle. I had no idea what the pills were, but I didn't care. If it took away this pain, I'd take anything.
Weakly, I plucked the pills from his palm and took the water bottle. The bottle was already uncapped, I noticed, as I downed the two pills with a single gulp. I nearly gasped when the water hit my tongue. I hadn't even realized how dehydrated I really was.
"Should we grab her?" One goon questioned, motioning toward me.
"Eh," the other one shrugged "it's not even here yet. Give her a few. Soon she'll be reeaallll easy to move anyways."
Blinking through the painful brightness of the afternoon sun, I looked up at the goons loitering around me.
Real easy to move?
"What did you give me?" I croaked, using one hand to shield my sore eyes from the blinding light.
The tall goon sneered down at me.
"Don't worry about it."
I was obviously worried about it, but the pain in my head persuaded me to stop asking questions. Still, concern pooled in my stomach and I couldn't help but wonder what I had just ingested, and how much I would regret it. I took another swig of the water and finished the bottle, savouring its old, metallic taste and wished I had more.
From my spot on the ground I observed the goons pacing back and forth and wondered which of them I had elbowed so roughly in the guts. The tall one, I assumed, trying to study him through the glare of the sun. He seemed especially aggravated.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he turned his head in my direction and goosebumps erupted on my skin. His eyes bore into mine, and I shifted uncomfortably. He looked pained in a way that made me wonder if he was using all of his self control not to jump down here and strangle me to death.
The sound of a heavy engine in the distance tore his attention away from me, and he jerked his head toward the source. I too turned to see who or what was coming toward us, but my eyes felt impossibly heavy, and I struggled to keep them open. The pills were working fast.
Groggily, I lifted my gaze to see a yellow blob coming into view. I lifted a hand to my face to help clear my eyes and my arm floated up effortlessly, as if it were filled with helium. I marvelled at the feeling.
It wasn't until it had stopped directly in front of us that I realized that the object was a single yellow school bus, just like before. An involuntary giggle escaped my lips; I thought I was dreaming.
The goons glanced between themselves and snorted.
I felt so funny; my arms and legs felt weightless, like they were detached from the rest of me, and my migraine was completely gone within a matter of minutes. I stared at the bus in wonder through glassy eyes.
"It came back to save me," I finally spoke, tears of happiness welling in my tired eyes.
The two men laughed in tandem as they walked over and hoisted me up, holding me between them and leading me toward the bus. Their hands on my arms and slung around my waist felt warm and comforting, even though I knew it shouldn't.
I thought I was floating as I made my way up the bus steps with the guidance of my new friends. At the top, I greeted the driver happily and he simply stared back at me through dark sunglasses, but I didn't mind. The shorter goon grabbed my wrist and led me away down the aisle and I trailed cheerfully, following the leader. When we reached the back of the bus, he motioned to the last seat and I plopped down clumsily, nearly sliding onto the floor. I giggled to myself.
"Don't move from this seat. Understand?" The man stood looming in front of me, all seriousness. I let out another unintentional laugh.
"Uh huh. You got it!" I smiled at him.
"Should've only given her one fucking pill," He mumbled to the other goon at his side, loud enough that I could hear. I agreed, one of whatever that was they gave me was probably enough, but I felt so good.
I watched the two men move themselves into the seats in front of me and to my right respectively and wondered what we were going to do next.
"Are we going home now?" I asked, as politely as I could, but they ignored me and continued staring straight ahead. I hummed to myself for a moment before continuing.
"What do you think the Joker's doing right now?" I teased, resting my feather-light arms on the seat in front of me. I really did want to know.
The goon in said seat, who I only now noticed was blonde, turned and looked at me, raising his eyebrow.
"Stop talking," He warned.
I huffed and sat back, feeling the coolness of the leathery seat through my scrubs. I felt a pleasant shiver run up my spine and along my scalp and closed my heavy eyelids, slumping a little in my seat, just on the precipice of sleep.
I could feel myself drifting further and further away when a thunderous racket rang out through the hollowness of the otherwise empty bus. My eyes shot open and I sat upright, peering over the seats toward the entrance. Frightened looking doctors, nurses, and what looked to be patients in their hospital gowns flooded into view. I watched in awe as they filed on, fear-filled expressions plastered on their faces. I sat still, confused and disoriented, watching them fill the seats, a few of them crying softly.
A group of gun-wielding men followed quickly behind and I felt my eyes widen in what I knew should've been fear, but still I felt nothing but content. Some of the men were dressed in some kind of uniform, some wore only black, while others wore plain clothes, just jeans and t-shirts and the like. I sat in silence and watched curiously, trying to untangle my thoughts.
"Listen up!" One of the men commanded, my eyes not focusing enough for me to know which of them it was. The bus fell silent, and I had to do my best to stifle an inappropriate laugh that tickled my throat. The man continued.
"If any of you try anything, we will not hesitate."
I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Everything just seemed so funny. I could see the goon to my right turn toward me, and I ducked my head down and away.
I calmed myself by drawing on that ever-helpful therapeutic breathing and lifted my head to try and focus my unbridled attention to the outside. The man at the front of the bus droned on but I easily drowned him out with my own buzzing thoughts, staring instead at the ill-fated structure of the hospital, doomed in all its glory.
As I looked on, I felt a twinge of melancholy seep its way into my drug-induced euphoria. As I stared at the cement walls and darkened windows, memories I had worked so hard to forget flashed through my mind; images of my mother in her hospital bed, pale and thin and weak, reaching out for my comfort and me for hers. Sleepless nights, trying to help her manage her pain while I buried mine. Not even the pills could stop me from thinking about my mother.
As if I had willed it to happen, the hospital ignited before my eyes and I was shaken from my reverie. Booming explosions rocked the bus, triggering a symphony of terrified screams. I glanced around me, taking in the pallid faces and looks of terror, and was stunned to see one that was familiar. GCN's Mike Engell, the Mike Engell, was being dragged down the bus' aisle and shoved into a seat, his cameramen in tow, never far behind. I laughed but no one could hear me over the blasts.
A pause in the ongoing destruction broke me from my trance on Mike and I furrowed my brow, turning back to the fiery scene. My eyes scanned the scenery lazily before noticing for the first time the nurse with the painted face and green hair standing in the parking lot, mere feet away. I guffawed, having forgotten how he had last looked before we had parted ways. Admittedly, seeing him now, a feeling I couldn't name burgeoned within me.
The drugs, probably.
He was fumbling with something, his back to us, and suddenly the hospital was reignited in a rage unlike before. The bus erupted once again in a cacophony of fear and anguish.
The goon to my right shot up, unlocking and swinging open the emergency exit in a single movement. My heart felt like it was in my throat as he crawled in and unceremoniously dropped into the seat with me. As the bus lurched forward, I stared directly at him, undaunted, but he didn't meet my gaze, instead looking only ahead. The energy emanating from him was otherworldly and I wondered what would happen if I reached out and touched him, if I too would burn.
An especially raucous explosion demanded my attention back to the fireworks display outside. I turned in our seat and knelt, peering out the back like a 4 year old on her first bus ride to school. I watched in awe as the hospital continued to burn. Memories of my mother in her hospital bed, her illness, and my father's indifference toward me all burned with it.
I contemplated the explosion through heavy eyelids until we were far enough away that it had lost its allure. Turning, I slid back down into my seat and glanced back at him, but he was already looking at me, his eyes black and feral. Something in my drugged up mind took his look as an invitation and I slumped toward him, resting my heavy head on his shoulder. He didn't burn me like I thought he might, but he was warm against my cheek.
I wondered if he would push me away, but he didn't, and instead lifted his arm so I could fall instead against his chest. At this closeness I could smell him, not unpleasant, like paint mixed with smoke. A kind of satisfied warmth pooled in my stomach, as if I'd just had the best meal of my life. I smiled against him. I couldn't help myself.
"They told me you've been a bad girl," He purred into my ear.
"Mhmm," I mumbled in response and closed my eyes.
I felt his fingers twirling through my dirty hair and petting me softly. I was definitely dreaming, or already dead.
"That feels nice," I whispered.
He said nothing in return.