Chapter One

Unfinished opening chapter of my novel. Originally began writing main part of story in 2008. This chapter finally finished 8/17/2021.

CHAPTER ONE

Haven't thought about this day in years. The cloudless sky of a delightful summer day, enough of a breeze to offset the heat of the noon hour. Surrounded by nature, I stare out beyond the precipice of Onistagrawan to behold the sight that is our valley. On the mountaintop behind me is the dark green of pine and cedar. The mountain across the valley is also topped the same. But lower down, there is the lighter green of oak, maple and ash; with a mingling of poplar and paper birch. The flat valley floor below is covered with endless rows of corn soldiers that have yet to tassel, appearing to march as light gusts sweep across the open space. The beautiful lush green of life contrasting with the tragic intent of why I'm up here, the dank desire for death.

In between the fields of corn and the opposing mountain, a winding line of sycamore and willow follows the creek that is too small to be called a river, yet big enough to require two and three hundred foot bridge spans for crossing. With my mind's ear I can hear fishermen still trying to catch the elusive rainbow trout before the heat of the day becomes too great. Also, groups of children laughing as they play fetch with their dogs while walking to their favorite swimming holes. A high pitched shrill catches my attention, eyes drawn to a red-tailed hawk riding the thermals in search of a rodent lunch.

Visualized perfectly; the smell of the air and how I felt, everything. Perfect, except for the fucked-up reason I'm up here. Bullies, tormenting me into not wanting to be alive anymore. And not having any courage to sign those hand typed anonymous love poems crammed through the air vent of my classmate's locker. The prettiest, kindest, smartest girl, in all our school as far as I'm concerned. A beautiful farmer's daughter with such soulful brown eyes that I dare not look into, afraid she'll see even a glimpse of the pain inside me. Pain that is destroying a little bit of my soul every day. 

It started out as the worst day of my life and ended up being the first best day of my life. A day that shouldn't be recalled with such abstract panic but that's how it feels; cold, dreadful. What am I missing? Looking at my hands, I realize they are wet, as are my clothes. That doesn't make any sense. Yes, I just hiked a mile up the gradual mountain trail. Yes, I should be sweating, but soaking wet? A surge of sound in my ears startles me; whooshing, gurgles, stifled screams. Still looking at my hands, they turn ash gray as if the sun had been suddenly blotted out by a dark cloud and I finally understand. 

I am unconscious, possibly dead, Void is trying to rouse me. Eyelids. Heavy. Must. Sleep.

Before my eyes close, gray hands are transformed into coal-black shuddering fists of energy. Power courses through my body, and face flushing at the rapture. Calmly, I open my eyes to the horror that is the true unfolding reality.

I find myself lying face down in the aisle of our school bus that is supposed to be taking me and my geology students on our field-trip. It was borrowed last minute from the local high school because the charter bus hired by the college suddenly broke down after arriving. Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been in a similar position. Remembering being on a bus as a child, bigger kids laughing as they kick and stomp on me.

The short flashback of the past chased away by a pounding ache behind my left ear. A hand raises to it, finding a depressed skull fracture. Dead I was. The cracks now mending, pain beginning to ebb as the dent in my body work returns to its original shape. Lying prone in the aisle, the only thing of importance that I can really see, is the sneakered feet of a student a few feet away from me. In trying to move, I’m having trouble getting my legs to work properly. I will away the haze and dissociate myself in an effort to visualize my surroundings. 

Raising my consciousness above my corporal body, and looking down, my left leg lays at an unnatural angle. But being separated from my body, the broken leg has no emotional impact given the overall crisis. I am aware that the bus is tilted forward and to the right, and partially submerged. But, there is no memory of how the bus left the road to be in this awkward position. As my attention proceeds toward the front of the bus, the sneakered feet I saw earlier belong to Becky, my favorite student, not that I'd let her know that. She is unconscious and face down in water. That will have to be addressed soon. At the very front, I find the bus nearly laying on the entrance side. Our driver hanging, seemingly lifeless from her seat belt like a piece of ripe fruit, waiting for the grim reaper to harvest. The bus contains about four feet of water at the front and more is pouring in through several open windows. In between are only two students, a nice young couple. The girl, holding her boyfriend and crying hysterically; flailing, in a panicked attempt to bring him around.

Turning my attention to the rear, there are the bodies of several teenagers, some still clutching their cell phones and music players. One obviously dead and several unconscious, those still ambulatory have gathered at the rear of the school bus, frantically trying to open the rear emergency door. I get another flash of that peaceful summer valley I grew up in and know what must be done. These are good kids, not deserving of this bullshit.

Expanding my consciousness, I discover that what used to be the bottom of the bus is at roughly a 45 degree angle with the river's shore. The nose submerged, the right front wheel-well embedded in the soft riverbed, preventing the bus from falling all the way over on its side. The rear, protruding from the water but sinking. The closest level area nearby is the state road from where we were unexpectedly flung into this predicament. Several passersby gathered there, most of whom are adamantly talking on their cell phones, to 911 no doubt. One well dressed business woman is removing her jacket and shoes, presumably to attempt rescue. She looks able bodied enough but we don't have time for that.

Grabbing hold of the nearest seat mounting bracket, I close my eyes in concentration. Projecting my astral self through the bracket and along the walls of the bus, feeling every molecule of steel, aluminum, glass, and rubber; asking them all to oppose gravity. Time seems to stop as my being is accelerated into synchronization with the quantum realm. Inhaling through my nose, pause, exhaling through my mouth. In the fracas at the rear, a screaming teenager is frozen in the snarl of attack like a taxidermied bear. Bystander statues on the road are caught mid sentence, gawking. The business woman, now free of her frilly silk top and pleated skirt, caught mid-dive. Athletic and feminine, with the strength and grace of every shield maiden that had come before her.........

Molecules agree to comply with my request to shed their affinity in clinging to the rest of the planet. Time resumes and the maiden pierces the water with barely a ripple.

The front of the bus lifts from the riverbed and everything inside tamely shifts from the change. In their panic, my young charges take no notice, trying to escape from the depths of impending entombment. The bus is now pivoting on it's floating rear left corner as the front rises through the water. Slowly righting itself and becoming level, there is a more substantial lurch that the students take notice of this time. All of them have to grab for surroundings to remain steady as the floor becomes the floor again. Water surges from the front of the bus, I take a deep break to prepare. And grab the opposing seat bracket with my free hand just in time to catch Becky’s feet in my face as her limp body rides the wave toward the back of the bus.

The lady swimmer takes a deep breath and is about to descend, but then the bus bobs to the water's surface with the grace of a dead whale. She stares in amazement as the bus rises out of the water. Tires now emerging from the depths, making the water appear only inches deep, when it is in fact, several feet. Displaced water from the bus's surfacing is reflected from the shore, lapping at the bus's undercarriage. Subtle waves cause her to bob, startling her into focusing on safely treading water.

The bus is slowly rising out of the water, as if being lifted by an invisible crane. A stunned crowd gathered at the shore now. One dumbfounded man drops his cell phone in the middle of a word. Nobody changes their gaze as it clatters on the rocks. Another caller is brought back to reality by the 911 dispatcher “Ma'am, are you there? What is happening?” She responds with “Um, the bus is coming out of the water!” She glances around her to see if other people are looking at the same thing, seeing a guy in his early twenties recording the event on his music player. Before the dispatcher has a chance to reply, she hangs up and starts video capturing with the phone.

Becky’s legs are on my shoulder, holding me under water. In order to breathe, I have to create a force field breathing tube. Which is difficult while trying to levitate the bus at the same time. After several tough seconds of intense concentration, the kids at the back finally get the rear emergency door exit open because of the lack of water pressure. It pops open and water gushes out, one boy nearly tumbling out as well, luckily catching himself on the door frame. Most of them stare out of the open door in disbelief, what was once partially below water level is now completely above. The most difficult part of rectifying our situation is over. 

One of the boys at the emergency exit turns around in time to see me gasping for air and comes over to help me. “Are you okay Mr. Smith?” Not wanting to let go of the bracket and lose manipulation, I nod my head. “I'm fine,” again nodding, but in the direction of the unconscious girl lying in the aisle next to me, “check on Becky, I don't think she's breathing.” “But your leg!” Finally looking down to see a horrific looking left leg with protruding bone, almost gagging at the sight. Angrily, “I'll live. Check on her d****t!” Not daring to check myself for other injuries in fear of losing concentration, I extend my awareness to the limp girl. She has a heartbeat, weak, but no breathing. The boy hesitates, with calm determination I say, “She needs you to breathe for her.” He blinks and nods. 

In the receding water he gets down on both knees and sits on his feet. After gently rolling her over onto her back, he tilts her head back, pinches her nose and gives her a good deep exhale. Her chest rises but nothing else happens. Reaching out again, mindful of the bus's precarious poise, and into her mind, “wake up Becky, it isn't your time yet.” Another breath from the boy, nothing. Again, louder in her mind, “wake up Becky.” I feel a flash of warmth and a stronger heartbeat. Another breath, another strong heartbeat. Louder yet “Wake up!” another flash and a vigorous heart beat, I see a faint twitch from her body. The distraction of melding with Becky makes me lose focus on holding the bus upright. I seem to be the only one aboard that notices the bus give a little shake. As he gives her one more breath, she responds, coughing water into his mouth, startling him and making him gag. She reflexively leans to the side and coughs out a stream of water, then alternately gasping for air, and more coughing as she looks at me in confusion. He smiles down at her in amazement and I remember his name is Bill, took me a minute. “Bill!” He is startled and snaps his head in my direction. “Go check on Wendy and Ryan,” motioning to the hysterical girl and her motionless boyfriend. He complies and stumbles over debris in the aisle to go help them. I try to reach out to him with my mind but the bus protests with a shake.

The first rescue personnel has yet to arrive and the only sound coming from the horrendous spectacle is the water emptying from the bus as it now hangs a few feet from the river bank. The drenched business woman hurriedly exits the water, turning around in time to see the bus shake and drop a few inches. Screams come from the bus, onlookers gasp as they expect it to fall back into the water. But, it steadies itself and starts to swing toward them, pulled by some magical force to the road that it had left a long ten minutes ago.

Disturbed by the mangled mess that is a tib-fib compound fracture, I close my eyes. Muttering to myself, “f**k, I need to get this bus on the ground.” Becky hears this as she climbs into a seat next to me and looks out upon the stunned crowd of onlookers. Gathering myself, I strengthen my resolve, and grip, on reality. Only perceptible to me, the bus starts to hum with energy as it lifts into the air another ten feet to now be a few inches above road level. I extend my free hand at the cliff face above the road and ask it to attract the bus molecules, which it quickly does. 

The guy and gal recording the event experience some crackle and distortion on their screens as the bus approaches. They and everyone else begin to back up, getting out of the way of the magically floating bus.

This is the easy part, drifting sideways and not fighting gravity. The bus slides through the air like putting on your favorite comfortable shoe, without effort. In this case, a sopping wet sneaker. Turning from the onlookers, Becky watches me drop my hand as we go lower and lower, touching the pavement with a groan of metal. I open my eyes and look up to see her wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare. Not wasting any time, I give her orders, “Help me get to the front of the bus.” Just staring at me, I find a pencil on the floor and chuck it at her. She makes no attempt to dodge or deflect and it lands in her drenched, curly, dark hair. Blinking rapidly as if awakened from a dream, she pulls the pencil from her drenched locks. I struggle with my pain free but useless leg. I repeat, “Get me the f**k up there!” Becky, about to protest but I interrupt her, “NOW!”

It's a good thing Becky is an athletic young woman, it takes a lot of effort on both our parts to get me standing. And I'm having to lean on her heavily as we make our way to the front of the bus. My broken leg dangling like a soggy noodle between us. Her hair smelling of lavender shampoo and the river. In struggling down the aisle, I am struck by how much she looks like that girl from high school. After a couple minutes that seem like hours, my concern for our driver slumped at the wheel, turns to grief. She is gone. One of the most pleasant women to grace this earth, tendered her station to the very end. My head upon her lifeless cheek. Tears in my eyes as I pray for the children she has left behind. And for the grandchildren that will never get to know the love she would have given them.

Turning to the entry door, I pull the lever. The clank of metal breaking the somber moment, then the gush of water held back in the stairwell spills out onto the pavement. Looking back at Becky, feeling like Charon docking his boat in sacred duty, "This is your stop." 

Don't remember the firemen getting me out of the bus. Or the paramedics stabilizing my leg for transport. Or the ambulance ride to the hospital. Only felt the loss of two souls who passed. I could have done more. I could have acted sooner. I could have…

Activity around me is beginning to register. Ceiling lights, distant concerned voices. Blurred masked faces. With the sharp pain of a needle in my arm, the cacophony of it all comes into focus. Frantically pulling out the needle, I try to get up but am forced back. A voice I recognize but not knowing why. “It's all right Michael, there was an accident, but you're safe in the hospital now.”

A gloved hand on my chest. Gloved, but I know that hand, that voice. In the frenzy around me, a familiar form speaks to me. “Michael, you are going to be okay, I have you, please calm down.” In that moment, our eyes meet and it's the woman I love. The mask and scrubs obscure who it is. But those eyes. Eyes that make me feel...... Everything. Time seems to stop, grabbing her hand with both of mine. “You promise?” “Yes.” Her eyes affirming the words. The determination, strength, the will. Letting out a sigh of relief, I let go, and give in. It all fades to black as they work on me. Her commanding voice, a lullaby, knowing I'm in good hands.

Again, I'm back on that mountaintop. Suffering the loneliness and heartbreak of being the geekiest lovesick teenage boy in this small hick town. Trying to reconcile the beauty of nature that surrounds me with why I'm here. To give in to the torment. To jump off the precipice and end my worthless life.

Should I just step off? Or take a running jump? Feeling that I'm likely to screw up either one. Undecided, I sit down cross legged on the overhang and lose my balance, catching myself from nearly falling over the edge. Must be I don't really want to die. But how do I live this tormented life? The punishment from the bullies, which school officials are unwilling to take action against. My parents being from abusive households, emotionally unequipped to handle the situation. Not to mention the girl to whom my heart belongs without her knowing. Elbows on my knees. Slumped over, head in my hands, bawling. Tears running down my arms.

Unknown to me, I have caught the attention of something out of this world. Feeling my pain as it was flying down the valley in the examination of our blue marble. Several minutes of crying pass before I realize the shadow on me, on a completely cloudless day. Looking up, I see little through the distortion of drenched glasses. Removing them and drying my eyes on the cloth in the crook of my elbow. Looking up as I fumble to dry the glasses on my shirt. A basketball-sized black orb hovers silently, inches from my face, blocking out the sun. Tilting my head to the right, the sun blinds me for a moment before the orb follows my movement. Partially dried glasses back on my face, a blackness that is total and non reflective. Slowly tilting my head to the left, it still follows my movement. I lean in closer but it remains stationary, the tip of my nose breaking its smooth surface without a sound or ripple. Cold. Quickly pulling back. “What are you?”

Waking up with a hangover is the worst. Especially when you didn't even drink anything. Where the hell am I? "You are safe." Who said that? "Void." Groggy but I find my bearings. Laying on a patch of soft moss between the edge of the woods and the mountaintop bedrock, the sun no longer high in the sky. How did I get here? "Void brought you away from the edge, to safety." Why would you do that? I wanted to die. "You wanted to end your suffering. Void has joined you. You will no longer suffer." Joined? What? Where are you? "Bonded. Integrated. Void is inside you. Part of you."

Reviews

[Lee A. Austin]

I'm not sure why the bus is floating? It should be 14-20 U.S. tones. I'm assuming that the bus ran off the road or something since there isn't another vehicle mentioned. If the point of impact was in the front of the bus - and strong enough to take out the driver, then you'd have serious injuries and possible deaths near the driver's front side. To even get to that level it would have to be going pretty fast and have a hard-object collision. Or the driver's had a seizure or something, which is pretty unlikely, because they are required to have active medical certifications. There would be rollover injuries, especially with unsecured stuff, but most of the passengers should be alive. If water is pouring in the windows and the bus is submerged nose down at a 45 degree angle, the driver should be mostly underwater.