ACTION SEQUENCE

When I was in Ireland, my iPod wasn't charged enough for a four hour bus ride, so I wrote stuff in my journal instead. Inspired by the scenery and atmosphere, and also the lingering thoughts of the divided societies conference I was returning from is this piece of writing, that, LO and behold, contains a semblance of plot. I have only typed up some of it, because the other "chapters" are too rough still. Yeah, and some names are missing and/or stupid, but it's a first and a half draft.

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Big things were happening in the world and she was stuck on a bus. Cell phones beeped with text messages and the driver was constantly murmuring into his Bluetooth, weaving the coach bus through back roads and shortcuts. The border closed in an hour. Was she going to make it, one of her friends had texted now fifteen minutes ago. Don't know, she replied, trying. SMS was the only thing that still worked. The latest damage to the satellites had wonked up the regular cell service somehow. She appreciated the mulled quiet it granted the bus. The driver's murmur drawled on, urgent and monotonous. She wondered who he had waiting for him.

The bus bounced along an old asphalt road; a few blurs might have been sheep, or cows, or hitchhikers. She pulled out a book of word puzzles to pass the time.

The bus driver blinked his headlights at a few slowing cars and edged around them. The headset cupped around his ear buzzed between police radios and his navigator. He had stopped heading for the official border twenty minutes ago, when the voice in his ear cursed and began to reroute him. There was no way to make it there in an hour but there was still a chance. He glanced at the mirror reflecting his passengers, all of them wide-eyed and using their phones―except the girl with the crosswords. She would make it, he thought. He returned his concentration to the road. Forty minutes, the voice in his ear buzzed. He turned a sharp left onto a better paved road and switched over to the radio channels. Still setting up traffic controls around the border, accidents and pile-ups dotting the near thirty mile backups. No mention of activity near him. He switched back to his navigator and listed his course, naming his next turns and destinations. The voice hummed in agreement and was quiet for a few brief moments.

The girl definitely didn't look [nnnn]. He wondered why she was trying so hard to get through when in a week she could pass through with ease. The only real question, he supposed, was whether she was going to it or from something else.

The girl's phone buzzed, which was odd, because the only person who would've cared to text her already had. She flicked it open with an absentminded thumbnail. Youre not gonna make it, are you The sender didn't even bother with punctuation. She frowned and set the pen down to answer.

I told you I would, so I am. Just make sure you're waiting for me.

The borders closing in forty minutes, where are you

Don't know. The driver's taking care of it. I'll get through.

A full minute went by without a reply, so she picked up the pen to work on the puzzle again. The phone vibrated on her thigh.

I miss you

She sighed and her head hit the rest with a gentle thump. The bus had turned onto yet another rough street that made her teeth rattle. She clenched her jaw to sooth them and read the message again.

Stay strong for me. I'll see you soon.

She tucked the phone away and resumed her puzzle. The bus continued to stumble down the pot-marked street.

The twins in the backseat had somehow managed to sleep despite the ride. One leaned against a pillow propped on the window, and the other leaned on his shoulder. Their hair was exactly the same shade of dark strawberry blonde. In propaganda they were the poster children of the [nnnn]. The photo shoots had brought in enough money to send them to graduate school in Alabesca, and they had grown into their adult faces in such a way that hearkened no immediate comparison to their past. Now those faces had ruined any chance of a future in Muben.

A man and his wife simpered to their feet and shuffled towards the driver, clinging to the seats as the bus continued its turbulent journey. They paused behind the driver and cleared their throats. “Excuse me, sir. When are we getting to the border? We don't have much time.” The bus driver didn't look at them as he answered. “The border's as good as closed. We're going in a different way. Please return to your seats.”

The couple stood still in shock. “A-are you mad?” Their voices carried down the bus, a susuruss of tension following in its wake. The girl looked up from her puzzle and the twins woke with yawns and sore necks.

“Sir--”

“A different way! The man is our only hope!” The man swung his arms wildly as his voice bellowed over his wife's. “If we don't make it through the border we'll be killed! All of us!”

The bus driver never once let his foot drift to the brake pedal or his eyes stray from the road. “Sir, if you show up at the closed border, you'll be a bullseye. In twenty minutes they start the purge. Would you rather be surrounded by trees or government police?”

The man didn't lose steam. “If you had stayed on course, we would be there by now--!” In his temper, he reached to grasp/grab at the bus driver, pulling his shoulder back and causing him to steer erratically. “Shit--”

The bus clipped a road sign, which tore through the right-side windows. Plexiglass and cold air spilled over the passengers. The bus driver struggled to correct the path but the front wheels dipped into a ditch at nearly 90 miles per hour. The passengers were tossed forward into seats, the bus driver into his steering wheel, the man into the windshield...

The leftover momentum of the bus broke the two front wheels at the axle, and the body of the vehicle skidded forward to bounce along the fenced ground. The passengers flopped back as it finally came to a rest.

The voice buzzing in his ear aroused the driver. The passengers were oddly silent but for a moan of pain. On the road, a car slowed to a halt. The driver switched to the radio stations and swore.
“Everyone! Off the bus! Take what you can!”

Anonymous protests rose. “Why don't we wait for help?” “We need ambulances!”

The bus driver leaned on the horn, sounding it off in three short bursts. “By the time help arrives, the border will be closed. What do you think the police are going to do with a bus full of [nnnn]?” The message settled, and everyone began to move. The bus driver switched back to his navigator. “Change of plans,” he murmured, and passed out.
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The main characters are the bus driver, the girl and the twins, if that wasn't completely obvious already. The twins get more personality later (I hope). They were a last minute organic plot point in this installment. The next "chapter" deals with the aftermath of the crash, and survival! Maybe I will update with it eventually!