I started walking after them.
Calling it walking might be generous.
My right leg had developed a mind of its own.
Every few steps, pain travelled from my knee into my hip, forcing me into an awkward limp.
I kept going anyway.
The rain had softened into a drizzle, but the road had gotten worse. Red mud clung to my shoes, making each step heavier than the last.
I pulled out my phone.
The fall had done a number on it.
A crack ran diagonally across the screen, with one corner completely black. The rest flickered whenever I touched it, but I could still make out enough.
No calls.
No messages.
No network.
I shoved it back into my pocket and kept moving.
The road curved through the forest, following the same path the bus had taken.
“Saleem!”
My voice travelled between the trees.
Nothing came back.
I don’t know why I called his name.
Maybe some part of me was hoping the bus had stopped just beyond the bend.
Maybe I’d find everyone standing by the roadside, laughing about the idiot who’d thrown himself through an emergency window.
I’d even let Saleem make fun of me for the rest of my life.
Gladly.
I rounded the bend.
Empty road.
“Fuck.”
I kept walking.
Every now and then, the Dome appeared between the trees.
White.
Still.
Getting larger.
From the bus, it had looked almost beautiful.
The closer I got, the less beautiful it became.
Not because it was old.
It wasn’t.
Not because it was abandoned.
Definitely not.
If anything, it looked too maintained.
Too clean.
Too deliberate.
Something that large had no business sitting this deep in a forest.
I stopped.
There it was again.
That sound.
I listened.
Nothing.
Then
faintly
a scream.
My stomach tightened.
Another followed.
I couldn’t tell how far away it was anymore.
That was the problem.
I was getting closer.
And for the first time since I’d started following the bus, I seriously considered what exactly I planned to do when I caught up with it.
Walk through the front door?
Ask for Saleem and Suzzy?
Politely enquire about the screaming?
Excellent plan.
I needed help.
Actual help.
Police.
A phone.
Preferably a functioning human being with better ideas than mine.
I checked my phone again.
Still nothing.
I stood there for a while, caught between going forward and turning back.
Forward meant the Dome.
Back meant hours of walking toward a highway I wasn’t even sure I could find.
Neither sounded particularly brilliant.
Then, in a brief lull between the rain and the wind, I noticed another sound.
Softer.
Constant.
Water.
I turned toward the forest.
There it was again.
Running water, somewhere beyond the trees.
My throat suddenly reminded me how long it had been since I’d had anything to drink.
I looked toward the Dome once more.
Then stepped off the road.
The forest swallowed me quickly.
Within minutes, the road was barely visible behind me.
Branches caught my clothes. Wet leaves brushed against my face and arms. The ground dipped gradually beneath my feet, growing softer with every step.
The sound of water grew louder.
Then the trees opened.
A narrow stream cut through the forest.
I almost laughed.
Finally.
Something normal.
At least, it looked normal from where I stood.
As I got closer, I noticed the colour.
Reddish.
I looked down at the mud beneath my shoes.
Red earth.
Clay.
Had to be.
I crouched beside the stream.
My hands were filthy, so I dipped them into the water first, rubbing away the mud and dried blood from the cuts I’d collected during the fall.
Then I cupped my hands again.
That’s when I noticed the smell.
I stopped.
Faint.
Metallic.
I knew that smell.
I looked at the cuts across my palms.
Maybe it was me.
I wiped my hands against my jeans and inspected them.
A few cuts.
Nothing deep.
I reached down again, scooped up fresh water and lifted it closer.
The water sitting in my palms had a faint red tint.
I let it fall immediately.
Something moved beside my shoe.
I looked down.
A strip of white material had caught against a stone.
Fabric, maybe.
One edge of it was stained dark red.
I didn’t touch it.
I stood.
Slowly.
The stream disappeared upstream through the trees.
I followed it with my eyes as far as I could.
Then I looked up.
Through a gap in the canopy, beyond the trees
white.
The Dome.
I stared at it.
Then at the stream.
Then back at the Dome.
I couldn’t tell whether the stream actually came from there.
I didn’t particularly want to find out.
I thought about Saleem.
Suzzy.
Every instinct in me wanted to keep following that road.
But what exactly was I going to do when I got there?
Limp inside and rescue thirty people by myself?
No.
If they were in trouble, they needed more than me.
They needed help.
Real help.
Saying it aloud made the decision easier.
Find people.
Find a phone.
Then come back with people who actually knew what they were doing.
I turned my back on the stream.
And, for the first time since I’d jumped from the bus, started moving away from the Dome.
I found the first house sometime later.
Twenty minutes.
Forty.
Could’ve been an hour.
The forest gradually thinned until a narrow dirt path appeared beneath my feet.
Then I saw a roof.
I stopped.
Another appeared farther ahead.
Then another.
Houses.
Actual houses.
I nearly laughed.
“Thank God.”
I followed the path.
It widened gradually until I found myself standing at the edge of a small settlement.
Proper homes lined the road.
Wooden stalls.
A few motorbikes parked beneath sheds.
Small provision shops.
Laundry hanging behind houses.
A pot sat over dying charcoal outside one home.
Somewhere nearby, something was cooking.
Soup, maybe.
A child’s slippers had been left beside a doorway.
A radio played highlife from somewhere I couldn’t see.
Everything looked lived in.
There just wasn’t anyone living in it.
I walked farther in.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
A shop stood open to my right.
Then I spotted salvation.
A refrigerator.
Stood inside the shop with its doors wide open.
Cold drinks were visible through the glass.
I waited outside.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
I leaned inside.
“Hello!?”
Still nothing.
I probably should’ve waited.
I didn’t.
At that point, morality had become negotiable.
I stepped inside.
A small radio behind the counter played quietly.
No shopkeeper.
I looked around once more.
“I’m taking water!” I called.
Silence.
“I’ll pay!”
I opened the refrigerator.
Cold air touched my face.
I grabbed a bottle of water, twisted it open and drank half of it before remembering that breathing was generally recommended.
Then finished the rest.
I stood there for a moment with my eyes closed.
Alive.
For now.
I reached into my pocket.
I’d leave money on the counter.
Probably more than the water cost.
Hazard pay.
That’s when a voice behind me said,
“Who are you?”
Every muscle in my body locked.
I turned.
A young woman stood in the doorway.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
She looked about my age.
Maybe younger.
Her eyes moved over me.
My torn clothes.
The mud.
The blood drying along my arms.
Then the empty bottle in my hand.
I raised it slightly.
“I was going to pay.”
She didn’t respond.
Her eyes returned to the blood.
“What happened to you?”
“Long story.”
She stayed near the doorway.
Not frightened exactly.
Just cautious.
Fair enough.
I probably looked like I’d been dragged through the forest by an angry mob.
“Please,” I said. “I need to use a phone.”
Her expression shifted.
“A phone?”
She glanced at the cracked screen in my hand.
“Where did you come from?”
“The road.”
“What road?”
“The one through the forest.”
Something changed in her face.
Small enough that I almost missed it.
“Which side?”
I frowned.
Why did that matter?
I pointed behind me.
“That way.”
She stepped slightly outside and looked in the direction I’d indicated.
Nothing.
Just houses.
Trees beyond them.
Then, through a break in the canopy farther away, the top of the white Dome was barely visible.
She went still.
When she looked back at me, the caution was gone.
Something else had replaced it.
“Where exactly were you before you came here?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
“I was on my way to that white building.”
I pointed.
Her face changed.
Barely.
But this time, I saw it.
“Why?”
“I was on a bus.”
She said nothing.
“Weekend trip. Me and some friends.”
“And they brought you through that road?”
Something about the question bothered me.
“Yeah.”
“Where are your friends?”
“Still on the bus.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door.
“And you?”
“I jumped.”
Silence.
“You jumped?”
“Before we reached that building.”
Her eyes flicked toward the Dome.
Just once.
But I caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
She didn’t answer.
“What is that place?”
Still nothing.
Instead, she stepped outside and looked down one end of the road.
Then the other.
Empty.
When she came back inside, she closed the shop door.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
Just quickly.
Then turned the lock.
Click.
I stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Did anyone see you?”
“What?”
“Coming here.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I haven’t seen anyone since I entered this place.”
That didn’t seem to reassure her.
If anything, she looked more frightened.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me for another second.
Then grabbed my wrist.
“Come.”
I pulled back.
“Come where?”
“Not here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Please.”
There was something in the way she said it.
Not authority.
Fear.
She unlocked the door and checked the road again.
“Come.”
I didn’t move.
“Who are you?”
She looked at me.
“You can ask me that later but right now, you need to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t be here.”
“Why not?”
She hesitated.
Then
“What time is it?”
I looked at my broken phone.
“Almost five.”
Whatever colour remained in her face disappeared.
“Shit.”
She grabbed my wrist again.
“We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“My house.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the empty road.
“Because they’ll be coming home soon.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
She didn’t answer.
Mehhhn. Class yet again.
the word choices and pacing are damn good.