Lone Star Renegades Read online

  The bus landed hard onto its right side and then rolled. Collin lost his grip on the driver’s seat back and landed atop the big blue numbers on the jersey of Alan Baker—a talented running back whose skull, somewhere over the last few moments, had been crushed.

  As Collin continued to lie still he took stock of his own self. His right arm hurt but he didn’t think it was broken. He slowly moved his left arm and then his legs. Considering what had just transpired, he’d come through it relatively well. He wondered if he was the only survivor. He listened and heard nothing but the continual crashing of metal objects being tossed about by the articulating arms. Collin wondered if Lydia had survived … perhaps it would be best if she hadn’t. Perhaps it would have been best if he hadn’t either.

  Pushing himself up off the dead body, he averted his eyes from poor Alan Baker’s mangled head. Collin was surprised he was able to sit upright. Apparently the bus was now sited right side up on its tires.

  Without warning, the loud banging and crashing came to an abrupt end. An eerie quiet pressed in around Collin. The dead silence was almost worse than the interminable racket. In the distance, Collin saw the huge opening rapidly disappearing. Like a constricting camera lens aperture, it grew smaller and smaller until he saw it seal tight … completely closed. They were—he was—trapped inside the ship.

  Collin wasn’t sure he wanted to see what lay behind him. Slowly he turned in his seat and took in the carnage.

  Chapter 3

  Movement. Some of the kids were coming around. Others stayed where they lay. Even in the bus’s battered condition, with most of the interior lights shattered, there was still enough illumination to see who was who. Collin did a quick mental calculation. There were twenty-four seats on the bus, twelve per side. Each seat held two people. Forty-eight kids … half of them were either unconscious or—

  Dana Stoker screamed as she realized her best friend, Lisa Cole—seated next to her—was dead. Linebacker Bill Myers started to cry when he tried to stand up but couldn’t … apparently he was paralyzed from the waist down. Collin continued to watch them all as the scene behind him quickly unraveled.

  As the screams and crying hit a new crescendo, of course it was Darren Mallon, Lydia’s boyfriend, who took control of the situation. He was standing near Lydia, who was hunched over, crying into her open palms.

  “Everyone just shut up! We lived through this shit, so just shut up!”

  The noise-level decreased by half. “We’ve been abducted. But we’re going to be rescued. We just need to sit tight and wait.”

  Collin had no particular problem with Darren—other than he was Lydia’s boyfriend … that, and the fact he seemed to live a charmed life. Athletically speaking, he was a God … he had Brad Pitt good looks … and he was an eventual heir to the Mallon family fortune. A trifecta. And now, just like on the playing field, he’d be the guy these kids would turn to as their leader—the one they’d follow.

  “You heard him, sit the fuck down!” came Bubba’s thunderous voice. Darren and Bubba reached across a row of seats and bumped fists.

  Those standing sat back down. Darren continued, “We’ll need to move everyone that … didn’t make it … off the bus. Anyone here know first-aid?”

  Two people raised their hands—a cheerleader, Collin didn’t know her name, and Paul DiMaggio.

  “Cool,” Darren said, nodding his head. “Go help everyone who’s injured. Bubba, Humphrey … um, we need to get the … um, ones that didn’t make it, and move them off the bus.”

  The noise level rose again as fuller realization of their situation took hold.

  Collin turned his attention to what was outside the bus. They were situated high up, atop an enormous mound of twisted and gnarled metal—numerous eighteen-wheelers; what looked like girders, the kind that held buildings together; and the same locomotive engine, along with six or so passenger cars he’d earlier watched get sucked up into this spaceship. He did a double take when he saw the tail section of what must have been a commercial jetliner. Off in the distance, there were countless small mountains of similar objects. Mostly everything was made of some kind of metal. The whole space was illuminated in a bright green light from high above. Collin turned to look out the opposite window—the spacecraft they were in was vast, easily reaching a mile in circumference.

  Darren was wrong. They hadn’t been abducted. Whatever they were, the aliens who’d sucked them into this spaceship were after the raw materials … not humans. The humans were nothing more than collateral baggage. Again, Collin took in the huge quantities of metal objects piled within the ginormous outer compartment. One thing was evident—it was filled to capacity. What happens when you’ve got a full load?

  “Where the hell you going, Sticks?” Bubba roared. “What … you didn’t hear the man?”

  Collin moved to the front console and pulled up on the large protruding handle that operated the opening and closing of the tall double-doors. The doors opened. When Collin turned back toward Bubba, he saw everyone was looking at him.

  “We weren’t abducted.”

  “What the hell do you know, Sticks?” Bubba snickered.

  “Let the geek go,” Humphrey said.

  “Where you going, Frost?” Darren asked, looking surprisingly interested.

  “Look … Whoever took us? Aliens … whatever … they aren’t remotely interested in us … what they’re interested in is the raw materials. Just take a look outside. Also, nobody is going to rescue us. Not with what’s going on with trains and planes and cars and trucks being sucked up. Things are crazy down there.” Collin momentarily thought of his mother and wondered if she was okay. His heart tugged in his chest as he thought of her; she’d be devastated at his disappearance.

  “I’m getting out of here. Sitting tight, as you put it, will only get you dead.”

  “Why’s that?” Darren asked.

  “I’m guessing we’re breathing some air, oxygen, because that opening sucked up atmosphere from Earth. Remember, they didn’t come for us … they came for the metal shit piled outside the bus. What happens when they vent the air out of here or that opening opens on another planet or to outer space?”

  “I told you, Sticks, you need to shut your—”

  “Hold on, Bubba. Where are you gonna go that the same thing isn’t going to happen to you?” Darren asked.

  Collin saw Lydia looking at him, leaning forward in her seat—taking in his every word.

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to just sit here and do nothing. I’d rather die trying to survive than die waiting around.”

  “There’s no magic place out there, Sticks. You’re a fool,” Humphrey sneered.

  “See that tail section over there? It’s from a jetliner.”

  “So what … a bus, a jetliner, there’s not much difference when it comes down to it.”

  “I know one big difference. Oxygen,” Collin said, letting that bit of information sink in. There wasn’t a person on the bus who hadn’t sometime watched an airline attendant demonstrate the use of small yellow oxygen masks.

  Collin saw the comprehension on Darren’s face. On all their faces.

  “So … what … you were just going to leave us? Save yourself?” Darren asked, looking mystified.

  Collin wasn’t prepared for that. “Hey … everyone can do what they want. The rules have changed … we’re not on the field anymore, Darren. Truth is, I don’t owe any of you anything.” His eyes went from Bubba to Humphrey and then back to Darren. But it was only when he looked at Lydia that he regretted his harsh words.

  Bill Myers looked like he was having trouble breathing. When he spoke, his voice was full of fear and came out in rapid short bursts: “I can’t … move … my legs. How would I … get off the bus?”

  Collin’s mind reeled—what the hell just happened? Since when am I making decisions for anyone other than myself? “I guess someone would have to carry you, man. Sorry.” Collin looked to Humphrey. “Maybe Humph here … and Bub
ba. They can carry you. Staying here is simply not an option. At least for me it isn’t.” Collin shrugged. Then he turned and hurried down the steps and walked out of the bus.

  The first thing he noticed was the smell. A mix of chemical scents—the most prevalent was diesel fuel. There was also the sweet sickening stench of blood and decay. Obviously, there were a lot of dead bodies strewn around in the wreckage.

  Behind him other kids started to exit the bus. Collin looked down at what lay beneath his feet. The train engine. It was upside down, its wheels pointed upward. Below, and to his left, was a passenger car—it was lying on its side, positioned parallel to the locomotive. Its upward facing windows had either shattered or were broken out.

  One by one the students emptied out of the bus. The last to exit were Bubba and Humphrey carrying Bill Myers.

  Humphrey looked ready to kill someone. “There’s no way I’m dragging Myers’ ass around like this.” He tilted his head at an angle and peered down and around Myers. “Yeah … no way … the guy just shit his pants. I’m done … Bubba, put the dude down.”

  The other kids took a step backward as the acrid smell reached their noses.

  Paul DiMaggio knelt down beside Myers, who seemed to be unconscious. Paul placed two fingers on Myers’ neck. He shook his head and quickly stood up, stepping away. “Holy hell … the guy’s dead.”

  Bubba, still holding Myers semi-upright, let him go, after taking a quick step back. Myers flopped backward with a thump.

  “I can’t believe you just dropped him like that,” Lydia said, moving forward from the back of the crowd—her forehead creased in a scowl. “For God’s sakes, he was your friend.” Lydia knelt down next to Paul. She too checked Myers’ pulse and let her hand rest on the teen’s chest for several moments.

  Darren, who’d been walking atop the mountainous plateau of accumulated rubble, said, “All right, to get down to the plane we’ll need to climb down from here.” He stood with his hands on his hips and gestured with his chin. Below him was the path that looked to present the least precarious descent. “It’ll be a little dicey; we’ll have to watch our step … we’ll have to climb from one section of the mound to another.” His eyes moved over the scared faces and eventually looked over to Collin.

  “Better to go through the passenger car over here. I think the plane is directly beneath it. Safer … easier,” Collin said.

  “Yeah … well, I think we’ll do things my way, Sticks. No offense.”

  It wasn’t lost on Collin that Darren had started using the same derogatory nickname Bubba was so fond of calling him.

  Again, Collin simply shrugged. “Good luck with that.” He turned and began climbing down the side of the locomotive toward the passenger car.

  Chapter 4

  As he climbed down, Collin had to avert his eyes several times. Once, it was the long gray hair on a decomposing woman’s head, facing away from him in the heap of junk. Another was a simple street sign—a sign that he recognized from his own neighborhood. He wondered if the other way, Darren’s way, would have worked just as well. Collin wondered too if he was purposely being obstinate. Maybe it was because of all the shit he’d had to put up with from Bubba and Humph, and their ilk, over the past few years. Or, maybe it was because Darren really was a pompous blowhard. But Collin knew the real reason was Lydia. Why was she with him? … Because he’s a hell of a lot cooler than you are, Collin’s inner voice mockingly retorted back.

  The locomotive’s thousands of rods and gears and other steel components were making hissing and ticking sounds as parts cooled in the chilly environment. By the time Collin climbed all the way down and was standing next to the train’s passenger car, the first of the students had started to climb over the edge of the locomotive above him. He heard Bubba’s voice somewhere above, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Maybe Darren’s way down the mound hadn’t worked out well after all.

  Collin walked several yards farther to his left until he reached the end of the turned-over railcar. Three feet above him were metal steps, leading into the passenger compartment. He wouldn’t need them. He used various hand- and foot-holds on the car’s exposed underside to climb to where he could pull himself up to the compartment’s doorway. It was open. Before dropping inside, he made sure some of the others, now climbing down the locomotive’s side, had seen him and where he was heading.

  He started to gag and retch before his mind could fully register what he was actually seeing. The smell of bodies, which had released urine and excrement in death, was overwhelming. The bodies were stacked one atop another, in some places three deep: a businessman in a three-piece suit, a woman wearing shorts and a tank top, and a bald, elderly man, his aluminum walker nearby, lying on top of both. There were others—many others. Collin averted his eyes and stepped between sprawled legs, awkwardly contorted torsos, and an accumulation of personal items—attaché cases, backpacks, and small suitcases, designed to perfectly fit on overhead racks. Collin grabbed a well-used rucksack next to a teenager who looked about his age. Checking inside, he found it primarily full of books—books and snacks. He ditched the books and kept the snacks. Football pants had no pockets and he’d need to carry such things with him.

  It occurred to him that food would become an issue … a huge issue. He backtracked and started to check all the bags, attaché cases and backpacks. By the time he’d check them all, he’d accumulated seven energy bars, nine bottles of water, a ham and cheese sandwich, and a handful of candy bars. As he turned back toward the other end of the compartment, some of the first students to arrive had begun to drop inside the car.

  He heard someone retch and then scream a string of obscenities. It was Humphrey. “Great plan, Sticks … really glad we decided to follow in your footsteps.”

  Collin was already nearing the far end of the compartment. He opened the door to the lavatory. He was relieved to see it was empty. Empty, but a mess. There were three full rolls of toilet paper lying on what was now the new floor. He snatched them up and placed them in his rucksack.

  When he stepped back out to the main compartment, Humphrey was standing there. “Stealing from the dead, Sticks? You sick mother-fu—”

  “You going to wipe your ass with your hand, Humph? Or maybe you’ll have Bubba do that for you?” Collin snickered back.

  Both Lydia and Darren were halfway into the car.

  “I have to agree with Humphrey; this is beyond gross, Frost,” Darren said.

  “No one twisted your arm to come here. But you might thank me later.” He fished out a bottle of water and an energy bar from the rucksack and held them up. “What were you planning on eating as long as you were trapped in here? My suggestion … have everyone find a pack or something like what I have, and start looking for items we can use. Primarily: food and water. Pass that on to those coming in behind you.” Collin reached out and placed the water and energy bar in Lydia’s hands.

  “Where are you going?” Lydia asked.

  “There’s still four more railcars to explore before we try to enter the plane.”

  Collin had difficulty opening the door to the connecting railcar, but eventually he managed to hold it open enough to wedge beneath it and push himself into the next car. It was almost an identical, grisly scene to that of the previous compartment. He immediately went to work snatching up bags and packs and discarding everything but the essentials. He made a pile of them in an open space in the middle of the car and continued forward. Again, he checked the lavatory and collected more toilet paper.

  Bubba was bent over the pile of packs and satchels. “Distribute these,” Collin said. One after another, he threw the rolls in the air toward Bubba’s direction. Not waiting to see if he’d caught them, Collin wrestled with the next inter-railcar door.

  * * *

  By the time all sixteen JV and varsity football players, and the eight varsity cheerleaders, raked through the dead passengers’ personal baggage, Collin, with the help of DiMaggio, found a section
of the airliner beneath a window in railcar number four. Unfortunately, they’d have to tear into the plane’s aluminum fuselage to get inside. Collin looked around for something sharp and heavy enough to do the job. Then, he remembered something he’d seen in railcar number three.

  “Paul, mind going back to car three? There’s a pipe attached to a ragged piece of metal. It’s a heavy thing, lying about two-thirds back in the car.”

  “No problem, I’ll get it.”

  “Um … can you see if Bubba wants to come back with you?”

  Paul left and Collin continued clearing debris away from the window and surrounding area. There was an iPhone lying beneath an overcoat and Collin slipped it into his rucksack.

  DiMaggio was already on his way back, but he was empty handed.

  “You didn’t see the pipe—”

  Before Collin could get the words out, Bubba’s voice thundered from two paces back. “Now you think you can summon me like some kind of damn dog? You’re lucky I don’t beat your head with this thing.”

  DiMaggio scooted behind Collin and moved to the other side of the window. Bubba, looking angry in his pee-stained football pants, crouched down next to Collin.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do here? You think I’m like superman, I can rip through metal?”

  “It’s aluminum. Stuff’s lightweight,” Collin said.

  “Just get back. Further! Come on, I’ll need room to swing this bad boy.”

  Collin and DiMaggio cleared out of the way. Bubba used the business end of the pipe, the end with the thick ragged piece of metal connected to its end. He stood, ensured no one was close by, and brought the makeshift hammer over his head, swinging it down like he was Paul Bunyan. The fuselage tore open, creating a hole the size of a soft ball. Bubba peered down at the damage he’d caused. “This needs to be big enough for a person to crawl through?”