Field Trip

 Field Trip

Nick Henderson is going on his eigth grade field trip to the Niagra Falls. But, when he discovers that his bus driver is a serial killer, his ride becomes wild, intense, and sure to thrill any reader, no matter what age.

This is the full story

Field Trip   

There was a headline in the newspaper on October 7^th, 2006: 

Killer Bus Driver!

 This morning, shortly around 7:30 am, a bus suddenly disappeared when it was supposed to arrive at a field trip destination in Albany. What ever became of this bus?Local searchers have found the remains of a school bus, destroyed, but it still had two- dozen teenager’s bodies in the seats.The driver had mysteriously vanished.The school officials have declared that the school bus driver’s name is Charles Hampton.When searching through criminal records, police found that Charles Hampton had been to jail five times over the last ten years, and had a record of six kidnappings. This man is still at large. If you see Hampton, report to your local police immediately. Charles Hampton’s photo is on the New York Times’s website.     

         New York is usually very noisy and loud by 6:00 AM, but not at my street, and especially not at my house. My house was dark and quiet. The only sound that you could hear if you walked in that silent morning was the soft snore, coming from my dirty bedroom. Clothes littered the ground, candy wrappers were dropped carelessly, but I didn’t care. Clean was for geeks. On my bedroom door, there was a sign that I had put up a few weeks ago, that read, “Nick’s room: Do not enter.”  

        But of course, these kinds of signs do not ward off any annoying little sisters, but hey, I tried.   

        There I was, lying on my bed, the dark green blankets and sheets all wrapped around my body. The alarm clock that was right above my head read: 5:59.       

   I shifted, just as the continuous and annoying sound of: BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! woke me up.    

       I grumbled some inaudible words to myself, and rolled out of bed. 

           Today was not a day I was looking forward to. In fact, it was on the bottom of my list of things I wanted to do. Yeah, of course it is always fun to go on field trips, but today, we were going to the Falls.  

        And, I was going for the freaking ninth time! Enough is enough!  

        I was walking past my parents’ room, when I heard the faint whisper, “Nick? Nick? Are you there?”

          I sighed, knowing that my mom wanted to say goodbye.  

         “Yeah, Mom, I’m here.”

           “I, uh, put the field trip permission slip on the table.”    

      “Ok, Mom.”   

       “Have fun.”     

     “Ok, Mom.” I was starting to get frustrated. She always was like this, every single day! She always told me to –     

     “Be safe.”      

    “Alright, Mom! I get the point!”    

       “Ok…see you after school.” She whispered, and then a faint snore told me that she had fallen back asleep. I rolled my eyes.         

       I quickly took a shower, brushed my teeth, threw on some partially clean clothes, and headed out the door, into the gray, misty New York morning. 

          It had rained last night, and so it was really chilly. I was still freezing cold, even with a black hoodie!      

     I lived in the suburbs. My parents have always wanted to live in the Big Apple, but guess what? Yeah, you got it. We got stuck in the suburbs.  

         Tracy was this girl that I have known for about all my life. Everything about her, from her dark brown hair, to her light green eyes just made me fluster. I don’t know if she knew it, but I sorta liked her. Wait, no, not liked, it was kind of more than that. I couldn’t really tell if it was love, or just a huge crush on her.  

         Anyway, she clambered up the stairs, smiled at the bus driver, and turned to sit in an empty row. I followed her, but two people were between us.     

       “Hey, Trace!” I called to her. She looked up and smiled.    

       “Hey, Nick.”  

        “Can I, uh, sit here?”     

     She looked down at the seat next to her. She blushed. “I, uh, I’m saving this for someone.     

      Rejected!    

      “Oh, ok…” I said, trying to fight back the urge to cry.    

       “Can I sit next to you, Tracy?” a boy named Michael said to her. I turned around and saw Tracy nod, and Michael smiled evilly at me. I stared at him; my face red with anger, and then turned and went to the back of the bus.   

         Double Rejected!   

        My history class was first period, and that was my class that was going to be having the field trip to the Falls. My teacher, Mrs. Mitchell, was explaining the safety precautions that we would have to take around the Falls, and I paid no attention. I put my black history binder on my desk, and texted with my red flip phone. Mrs. Mitchell never noticed. She never does. This is where I can find some peace and quiet and just text my bud, Austin Jackson. Austin was in his history class with Mr. Stevenson. He would also be going on the field trip today, and we are in the same group.     

      I smiled as I read:  

      R U GONNA ASK SAM OUT?  

   Samantha Gerber was this girl that was sitting in a row behind me. She was totally hot, and most every boy in school had been falling for her for years. Right now, as far as I knew, she had no boyfriend.   

        I texted back:     

               MAY B SUMDAY WHEN SHE NOTICES ME  

   I knew that was a complete lie. I knew that if I covered up that I liked Tracy and said I liked Samantha, then he wouldn’t ever figure it out.    

       I shut my phone and looked up. Everyone had risen from their desks and leaving the class. Apparently, Mrs. Mitchell was done explaining. We headed for the door, and then out into the hallway. I quickly opened my phone and texted:       

             MEET AT MAIN HALL     

      When Austin came to meet me, I noticed that he held his phone in his hand, carefully hidden away from teacher’s prying eyes. I smiled. Austin and I had been friends ever since I could remember, and I don’t know how I could have gotten through algebra without him.      

     When we exited the building, we turned right, still talking about how hot Samantha is, and how dumb it was that I had to go a ninth time to Niagara Falls.     

      “I mean, every person that lives in New York had been there at least three times,” I said.      

     Austin nodded and then hurriedly looked behind him.    

       “What?” I asked.     

      “It’s Jennifer!”     

      I laughed and turned around. Yeah, there was that U-G-L-Y chick that Austin has been falling for for years. Jennifer was this girl with huge buckteeth, and huge bug-eyed glasses. She talked like she had something stuck up her nose, and often drooled. I had no idea how Austin could fall for a girl like that. He must be like a complete nerd.   

        “I just…I just don’t see what you can like in her!” I said. Austin gasped and said, “Oh my gosh! She got on bus 231! C’mon let’s get on that one! Hurry!”     

      He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards bus 231, but I pulled away.   

        “No way! Tracy and Samantha got on bus 99! I am going there!” I yelled.   

        Austin glared at me. “Fine! Have it your way!” Then he stormed off the bus 231.           I laughed and turned to face bus 99. I sighed and then ran to it. The bus driver smiled at me. Surprisingly, it was a guy. I mean, it’s not like guys can’t drive buses, it is just usually girls who do it, you know?   

       Anyway, I looked back and saw that Tracy was sitting next to Angie, her best friend, in the emergency exit door. I looked down and tried not to meet her eye. When I passed her row, I looked up for Samantha. She was sitting in row 20. And it was just her.     

      I walked up to her. “Hey! Uh, I can please sit with you?”  

        She looked at me. There was an awkward silence. She looked at me and then looked down my legs, and then to my shoes. She sighed and said, “Sure.”    

       I gasped. Only a couple times had I ever been accepted to sit by a girl! Especially a really hot girl!      

    I quickly slid into the seat.     

      “So,” I said, “what’s up?”    

      “Not much, just the same old, same old.”    

      I nodded. “Yeah, that’s usually how everything is.”    

      Gosh, I sounded like an idiot.    

       “Yeah…” she replied.     

      Then she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out her bright pink cell phone. She flipped it open and started to text.    

       I felt rejected again.   

        I sighed and looked up towards the front of the bus. The bus driver was staring vacuously into the driver’s window. His face was blank, but his eyes were clouded. He had really untidy black hair, and it looked like he had just rolled out of bed. But then, I thought, he probably did. I ignored him and looked back at Samantha.    

       “So, uh, how do you like school?” I asked.     

      She didn’t answer.    

      I shut my mouth and tried not to sound like a complete fool.    

       I pulled out my cell phone, just as the bus began to move. It was about time too!   

       I opened up the unread text messages and found one from Tracy. I eagerly opened it:             

       I M SRRY BOUT THIS MORNING ON BUS. I DIDN’T MEEN TO AFFEND U OR ANYTING. WILL U PLZ NT B MAD AT ME?     

        I smiled and looked at Tracy. She was talking to Angie. I yelled to her, “Hey, Trace! I forgive you!” I laughed.    

       She turned around and smiled. “Thanks,” she mouthed.    

       I smiled and looked back at Samantha. She was still texting.    

      “Who are you texting?” I asked.    

       “My boyfriend.”   

        Those two words hit me like a ton of bricks. She had a boyfriend? Since when? 

           “Oh…” I replied.    

      There was another awkward silence, and I sighed. I pulled out my red cell phone and texted to Austin:    

      WAT R U DOING?        

             A couple of seconds later, I got the reply:    

      TALKING TO JEN.  

         I shook my head. Gross!   

        The bus turned on the highway. We were now traveling further and further away from school and nearer to the Falls.    

       I had put my phone in my pocket. Austin had stopped texting me, and Tracy never talked to me again. Now I am sitting next to the silent Samantha, whose fingers were still flying away on her phone.    

       How could someone text that fast?         

            I leaned back to see if I could read what she was writing, but then I heard a loud BANG! that echoed throughout the whole bus. It seemed like an explosion had erupted inside. Many people screamed out in surprise.    

        Samantha and my head’s both jerked up to the front of the bus. And then it hit me. 

          The bus driver was pointing a small, handheld gun at Mrs. Mitchell, who was sitting in the front seat. I heard Samantha drop her phone.     

      The bus driver shot again at Mrs. Mitchell, and this time, more people screamed. Mrs. Mitchell slowly fell to the floor of the bus. I heard a girl in the front of the bus scream and start to bawl.  The bus driver quickly pulled over to the side of the highway and stopped.

           He put his right arm that was holding the gun at a right angle. Everyone in the bus stared at him; all was silent. I felt deadly chills climb up my back, and into my neck. I knew what was happening. We were going to be kidnapped and then killed. And then once we were all dead, the police would never find out bodies and then—     

     Terrifying images flashed through my mind.     

      The bus driver took off his seatbelt and pointed the gun at the passengers. Many screamed, but I kept quiet, too stunned to speak.   

        Samantha froze. She didn’t know what to do.    

       “Now everyone,” the bus driver said very, very loudly, “will put their cell phones, Ipods, and all other electronic devices in this here bucket!”    

      The bus driver held up a big bucket in his hands.    

       “If you choose not to cooperate, I will be forced to shoot and kill you.” 

         I gasped. My cell phone was in my pocket. Would he notice it? If he didn’t then I could call 911. But if he did—    

      “Put it in the bucket!” he roared at a girl in the front seat. She screamed and fumbled with her hands. “Give it to me!”    

      Samantha suddenly looked down, and grabbed her cell phone that she had dropped. She put it in her pocket. I turned to face her and she shook her head as if trying to say, “Ignore me!”   

       The bus driver ripped it from girl’s hands that was sitting up front, and pointed the gun at her head. She screamed as loud as she could.    

       Suddenly, there was another explosion that came from the gun, and the girl that had fumbled with the phone dropped to the floor of the bus, dead.     

      “I AM NOT JOKING AROUND HERE! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!” the man roared at the top of his lungs, as a few girls cried over the girl’s dead body. The bus driver looked down at the new kill and grunted. One of the girls glared at the bus driver, only to earn a swipe at the face. “Get your phones out now!”    

       Suddenly, everyone in the front few seats frantically went for all of their electronic devices and threw them into the basket. The bus driver walked down the isle, glaring at every pair of eyes that looked at him. His gun was held in his right hand, his finger set upon the trigger.   

        What is this man doing? Why does he want to kill us? I was terrified through every mortal fiber in my whole body. I couldn’t even move. Why hasn’t someone tried to call the police yet? Why haven’t we escaped yet?     

     “GO!” someone yelled in the front seat. I looked up and saw two kids race to the lever that opened the door. The bus driver spun around and shot two bullets. Both of them missed by inches. “Turn it!” one boy yelled. The other boy stood frozen, in pure terror as the bus driver slowly walked up to them, with the gun raised, ready for attack.    

         The two kids in the front ducked as a third bullet came crashing through the window, splattering them with shards of sharp glass fragments.     

       “I will kill all of you now if I have to!” the bus driver cried out. He stopped walking when he reached the two almost-escapees.     

      “Get up,” he muttered. The two boys jumped up, and the bus driver held up the gun to their faces. Both of the kid’s faces were just…unimaginable. How could someone do this to us? Why would he try and kill us? What have we done to him?   

         “Do I look like I’m joking?”     

      “No!”   

       “No, sir!” the bus driver commanded.    

       “No, sir!” the two kids yelled out, with painful expressions in their faces.   

        “Now, if you keep actin’ like that, I’m gonna have to kill you, right?”     

      “No! I mean…yes!” one boy shouted.     

      “Yes, sir!” the bus driver roared. Then he raised his right hand, the hand that held the gun, and smacked the first boy closest to him upside the head.     

      The boy whimpered. I saw a tear come out of his friend’s eye.    

       “Now shuddup and sit back!” the bus driver commanded.   

        Suddenly, I heard Samantha whisper under her breath, “Oh my gosh…this guy was in the news!”   

       I turned my head and looked at her. She looked at me back. “He killed an entire bus in a car accident,” she added.     

     I gasped. “We have to call the cops!” I whispered. I quickly stole a glance back up at the bus driver.    

       She pointed to her left leg. “Mine is under here…”    

      I touched my right pocket. She nodded. We both looked up and saw that he was staring directly at Samantha and me. I gasped once again, feeling a chill crawl up my back. The bus driver walked slowly to us, raising the gun to Samantha’s chest.    

       “Hand over your phone now, missy.” He said powerfully, but yet calm.   

       “I—I don’t have a p—phone.” She said, very unconvincingly. She shut her mouth, not wanting to give any hidden information away. His eyes flashed between Samantha and me, and then he held the gun up to her face.    

       She screamed and backed up against the window. “Don’t make me kill you now!” he said.        

    The man raised the gun a bit and then shot a bullet. Samantha screamed and ducked down, as shattered glass littered our seat.    

       And then he pointed it at me. My fingers shook like crazy and I couldn’t think. Would I give him my phone and not be shot, or would I try to be the hero of the day? I’d rather not risk it.   

        I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and dropped it in the bucket that he held. Again, his clouded, gray eyes darted back to Samantha. Then, amazingly, he turned around and started taking phones from the next seat.      

     I turned back to Samantha and she looked very disappointed in me.    

        Once all of the cell phones and MP3s were collected, the bus driver returned to his seat, still holding his gun that he had reloaded.   

        He had chucked the basket through one of the windows, and I gasped. I knew that it was my fault that I had given it away, but still, it was completely gone.    

      But, Samantha still had hers.   

        The bus began to move again, and the bus driver kept flicking his eyes up into the mirror to see what was going on.      

     No one was talking. Or moving. They were just staring straight ahead, knowing that they most likely would not live to see the night.    

      I looked out the window, and Samantha did too. The sky was gray and very cloudy, and it looked as if it might start raining again. Our surroundings passed by very quickly, as if we were traveling a lot faster than 60 MPH. I sighed. What can I do? There is no way that I can stop this bus and get all of us out by myself. I needed help.   

        I looked back at the bus driver, whose eyes were focused on the road.    

       And then I heard it.   

        Sirens roared through the cold, morning air and all of the teens quickly, desperately, turned and looked into the back window. Cops were chasing the bus.    

       I felt suddenly very happy, happier than I ever had in my life. Finally! The cops would rescue us!     

      The bus sped up.    

      The cops fell behind.     

      “C’mon…catch up you stupid cars!” I whispered urgently. Every teenager in the bus was staring through the dirty back window, hoping for the police to catch up.      

     Suddenly, the bus made a swift right, and I was thrown into Samantha’s lap. “Ugh!” she cried, trying to push me off. I looked up through the window again and saw that we were no longer on the paved road anymore. We were heading straight into a group of trees. 

          He was going to crash! My head flashed back to the cops and saw that they too were off road.     

      G forces pulled me to the left this time, as the bus driver swung the bus around, this time heading directly for the police cars.    

       “NO!” I heard two girls shriek as a sudden impact jerked the bus to the right.

       Samantha fell out of her seat, but quickly regained it as we both looked back.     

      The bus had smashed into one of the trees that we had almost hit. Wait…we just did hit one of them.    

       Anyway, the bus apparently wasn’t torn up too bad, because the bus driver accelerated, heading directly for the cops.    

       I knew that we were going to die. I suddenly felt really cold, and I wanted to know if it hurts to die. Would it be long and hard and painful, or quick and easy? Would we crash the bus and have something plunge into my heart, or would I have to suffer torture if we made it out of this dilemma alive?   

       Suddenly, the bus swerved to the right, and I was thrown out of my seat, and into the isle. My eyes widened as I watched the bus collided head on into one of the tiny cop cars.

           Samantha, who was still seated, flung herself into the seat in front of her, and her body went limp. I was hurled through the air, and I landed on my knees, farther up in the isle. Immense pain shot through my neck and my arm and I cried out, “Argh!” I squirmed, trying to get away from the crash.    

       The bus driver slowly lifted his head up to the broken and shattered window. The cop car had been flattened, and was now underneath the bus. He grinned and tasted blood, as it flowed out of his nose. The hot and salty taste was all that he needed to keep going. He knew for certain that these kids were not going to live to see the light again.    

       I scrambled up to my seat, next to Samantha. She was cradling her left arm, and I gasped. Her arm was brutally twisted, and I saw a bone poking out, just barely visible under the skin.    

       Tears streamed out of her eyes, but she didn’t cry out in pain. I felt empty, just staring at her, and I knew that I had to do something, but I didn’t know how to treat a broken arm.

           Yeah, sure, I was a Boy Scout, but I mean, I never remember that stuff that they teach you when you desperately need it. I remember that we had a First Aid Merit Badge night, and they taught us all of these different ways to clean cuts, create bandages and what to do if a poisonous snake bit you, and I was positively sure that they taught me what to do if someone had a broken arm, but I couldn’t remember it. Shoot! I should have paid attention!      

    “Here,” I said, very calmly, trying not to worry her, “let me see it.”    

      She shook her head, and said through her tears, “No!”   

        I sighed. “We will get out of this. I promise!”     

      Once again, very surprisingly, the bus moved. The cop cars had gone away after the chase, and now we were on the highway once more, traveling to nowhere.      

         I very, very slowly turned to face Samantha, whose arm was still all bent and twisted.

           She was holding her phone in her other hand. She glared at me, wanting absolutely no attention. I turned back around, but my eyes were still watching her.    

       She slid lower, and lower into the seat. But it did take some time. I mean, from the time that I looked over to the time when she was completely hidden from view took about three minutes.   

        But hey, she’s a smart chick.    

      She opened her bright pink cell phone and dialed three numbers: 911.     

      Suddenly, the whole room was filled with a loud ringing. My head shot towards Samantha, who had wide eyes and she gasped. “It’s on speakerphone!”   

        I gasped and looked up at the bus driver. He had a sour look on his face, and pulled the bus to the right, so that he could stop. Cars zoomed past us. He stood up, fingering the hand held gun in his right hand, and walked over to us.    

       “Give me the phone!” I cried to her. She looked at me as if I were crazy. “Give it to me!” I whispered.     

      She quickly gave me the phone and sat back up.     

      She looked up into the barrel of the gun.     

      “Ah!” she cried.      

     “You lied to me.” The bus driver said.     

      “What? Oh, uh—“   

       “Sir, I called the cops.” I suddenly said, really loud so everyone could hear. I heard Tracy gasp and look at me.    

       “Stop trying to cover up for your little girlfriend here. I know it was her. I never forget faces. Come on, dearie, I am taking you outside. You need to learn to obey other people.”

           Samantha gasped in relief as the gun slowly dropped. Her body tensioned.  She abruptly stood up and said, “Move!” to me.   

        I looked at her as if she was crazy, but I moved my legs and she walked with the bus driver trailing behind her, to the front of the bus. Everyone was looking at her. No one was talking.      

     We were still on the highway, and the cars busily zoomed past us. The bus door was on the opposite side of the traffic. Samantha was trying to make up an escape plan, but she knew that her only option was to go through the door, but the cement barrier prevented that from happening.    

       What other doors were there?    

      She looked at Tracy and Angie. They were sitting in the emergency door seat. She looked at them for a moment and then looked back at the bus driver. The gun was raised to her head. She stepped back and turned icy cold.    

       “What happens to people when they don’t follow rules?” he asked. Then he turned to face the other kids and paced around the front of the bus, waving the loaded gun around.

            Samantha tried to tell Tracy and Angie to open their door with her eyes. Tracy seemed to get it, but asked when, silently.    

       The bus driver looked at her straight in the eyes. “They get punished!!”   

        He raised his gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Samantha shut her eyes, waiting for the bullet to strike her head. It never did. “What?” the bus driver roared, “It’s out!”  Samantha saw this as the last opportunity and shouted, “Now! Tracy, now!”    

       Suddenly, there was a big blaring alarm that went off, and the bus driver shot a bullet. Samantha had already shot forward towards the door and was literally flying over the seats.     

     “No! Samantha! No!” I cried. I knew what was going to happen.     

       When she got to the emergency door, she flung herself out of the bus, and right into incoming traffic. She landed on her stomach, and sputtered out a cry that no other has ever matched. She had landed on her broken arm. Tears flew out of her eyes and she looked up. A car hit the breaks, but not fast enough. Samantha was rolled over with the car, being flattened like a pancake.    

       Blood squirted the car’s wheels and the bus’s yellow body. I couldn’t even bare to look.       

     It was obvious that we weren’t headed for the Falls. He drove us away, somewhere not even close to where our school was. He kept driving, and driving.   

        I was devastated by Samantha’s death. Why did it have to be her? How far is this man gonna go to kill us? Emotion swelled up in my body, and I bent lower, wishing my life would end. Samantha, the girl that everyone thought that I liked. Samantha, the girl that had tried to save everyone on the bus. Samantha, the girl that I thought I could be friends with. Tears flooded out of my eyes. I felt desperately empty, as I looked at my seat. The empty seat. Samantha was out there, her body squished and—     

     No! I can’t even think of it. Why had she done that? Why did she have to go and kill herself?     

      I bent lower, wishing I had my phone. I really wanted to call the police, to stop this man, and to have Samantha sitting next to me once again.    

       But I knew that none of this would happen.     

     And then the bus ran out of gas.     

       The bus driver swore very loudly and hit the steering wheel in frustration. The bus honked.       

    He stood up, and pulled out his gun.    

       “It looks like this is where the ride ends, people!”     

     I sank into my seat, so that if he fired, I couldn’t be hit. “This is where you will say your last three words. This is where you will die.”    

       I sank lower. And lower. And lower.     

      And then I saw it.   

        It was a bright, pink cell phone. It was Smantha's bright pink cell phone.  

        I gasped. How could my luck be that great?   

       I quickly grabbed it, made sure that the hijacker wasn’t watching me, and then dialed 911.      

     It rang one time, and then the operator asked, “This is emergency response. Please state your name and emergency.”   

       The bus driver was still talking and waving his gun around.     

      “My name is Nick Henderson. My class was going on a field trip, and then the bus driver shot and killed my teacher, and he hijacked the bus! He is going to kill us all!” 

         “Where are you?”     

     “Uh, I don’t know… the last city we passed was Mason and we have traveled about thirty miles east of there.”   

       “Uh-huh…and are you safe from the bus driver?”    

      I looked up.      

     I saw that the bus driver was looking at me, with the gun pointed at my chest.  

         “No…” I whispered into the phone.     

      “NOW! GO!” someone yelled up in the front. The man with the gun looked up and shouted, “Get back here you lying son—“     

      “Hurry!” I yelled into the phone, and then broke the connection. I looked up to see what had happened.      

     The same two boys that tried to escape last time, finally opened the door, and hurdled themselves outside.     

      The bus driver angrily cursed them and followed the boys out the door.     

      “Go!” a girl screamed, and another girl opened the emergency exit door, just like Tracy had done, and soon the bus began to be full of yells and cries to get out.   

        I saw Tracy get out of the bus, followed by Angie, and then other people. I jumped up and got in the line, looking out for the hijacker.     

      He was shooting someplace, but I couldn’t see him. I could tell he wasn’t shooting towards the escaped children, though.  

         I was worried about the two boys.     

      Man, everything that happened next just terrified me.   

        First, I heard a loud honk, just like the bus had done a few minutes ago.     

      Then I screamed as I felt this really hard impact on my legs, and I was sent flying to the ground. I looked up and saw that my nose was all bloody, and my leg was killing me. There was a kid lying on top of my back.     

      There was another honk, and another huge crash, and I finally could see behind me. 

          There were two semi trucks somehow lodged into the back of the bus. They had crashed into the bus, apparently trying to avoid the kids.   

        And then the third semi truck hit. And everything went upside down.   

        I was thrown against the wall, and I had no clue where I was. What had happened? What were the seats now above me? Why was I lying on the roof of the bus? And why did I taste blood in my mouth?    

      I heard screams and shouts and people were pulling themselves up from the accident. I was having really a hard time breathing. I staggered for a moment, and then slowly crawled my way to the emergency door. Kids were pulling themselves out of the door, and into the forest sort of area that we were in.   

        I looked out a window and saw Tracy. Her neck was all bloody, but she otherwise looked ok.    

       I pulled myself up and then reached for the door. It was a lot easier to get myself out then I thought it would be. Just then, I heard a CRACK! and I fell away from the bus, onto the hard, paved road.     

        I heard screams and feet scrambling to get away, and I looked up to see the man with the gun shooting at everyone he could see.      

     I gasped as I pushed off of the ground and landed on my feet. I looked at a heavily wooded area and ran as fast as my legs would let me towards it.    

       I have never been a really fast runner, but today, my body thought otherwise. I had seen too much today, and I needed to run until all of my problems were gone.   

        I needed to run until Samantha was back alive.   

        I needed to run until I got away from the bus driver.     

      I needed to run.     

                Bullets cracked in the air, and I ran until I dropped to the soft, muddy ground. I breathed hard, trying to hide from the bus driver. Was he close? It seemed like I had run a long way from the bus, so he couldn’t have caught me. And he never did shoot me!     

     “Oh, Nick!” a voice said over to my left.    

       My head shot up and I saw Tracy, who was running towards me.      

     “Tracy!” I stammered.    

       Suddenly, there was another gunshot, and it came a little too close to my head, and I fell to the ground, dirtying myself.     

      “Get down,” I told Tracy. She nodded and clambered to the earth. I nodded my head towards another group of trees and I crawled over to it. She followed me.    

       “Ok, we are hidden…” I said.    

       She sighed and looked back. Tears came to her eyes.     

      “Too many people have died! I can’t believe it! I mean, Samantha went head on into traffic! And then Nicolas! Did you see him? He was shot in the back five times! I can’t believe it!” Tracy cried out.   

        I put my arm around her back.    

       “Oh, Nick…” she sobbed. She put her head on my shoulder. “And Angie…oh…” she continued to cry.    

       “What—what happened to Angie?”    

      “Shot in the head.”    

      I was stunned. I had known Angie since like first grade. How could she have been killed? She was a fast runner! She could out run a bullet!    

      “I…I’m so sorry…” Gosh, what could I say?   

       “I called the police.” I continued.     

      “I know…so did Angie. He never knew she had a phone.”  

        She continued to cry.    

       I mean, I’m not an emotional guy, but when a really good friend starts to bawl her eyes out, what can you do? I mean, I really started to cry, and I haven’t cried since I was six!           

         The bus driver never found our hiding spot. In those intense few hours, sixteen kids were killed, two being Angie and Samantha.

          The police found the three crumpled semi trucks, and our tipped over school bus. They also found all of the bodies but Samantha’s, which was torn up in the traffic.

          But they never found Charles Hampton, the bus driver. He ran into the forest, all of his rounds for his gun depleted. The serial killer was still loose, and the police have no idea where he could be.    

       Tracy and I have become best of best friends. That horrifying event would have seemed to have changed our lives for the worse, but really, it made our relationship grow even more, even without Angie or Samantha.

       But beware. You should never, ever, ever trust your bus driver.