Authors: H. A. Rhoades
Patients
were
being
moved
using
every
means
of
travel
imaginable.
Airlifts
were
used
for
the
more
critically
ill,
but
most
were
moved
using
passenger
trains
where
they
could
and
buses in most cases.
Massive
convoys
of
buses
were
traveling
daily
on
what
were
by
now
mostly
clear
freeways.
Charter
buses,
school
buses,
military
transports,
ambulances,
vans,
and
large
passenger
cars
and
trucks
were
all
being
used
to
move
the
sick.
One
of
these
buses
didn't
make
it
to
its
destination. That bus introduced
me
and
my
sleepy
little
town
to
the
horror
of
the
second
wave.
On
a
cloudy
morning
a
converted
charter
bus
left
a
prison
near
the
city
of
Fontana
,
California
.
Converted
into
a
medical
transport,
the
charter
bus
housed
bunks,
or
racks
similar
to
those
used
on
old
naval
ships
.
These
racks
were
mounted
three
high
on
each
side
of
the
bus
with
barely
enough
room
to
walk
between
them.
They were
loaded
with
critically
ill
patients.
As
the
bus
drove
towards
the
I215
freeway,
a
little
girl
who
had
fallen
ill
a
month
before
was
barley
conscious
and
tucked
away
in
the
back
of
the
bus
on
a
bottom
rack.
She
was
fading
quickly
and
floated
in
and
out
of
consciousness.
Inside her brain,
the
fungus
was
nearing
its
final
stages
of
taking
complete
control
of
her
mind
.
She
turned
her
head
to
look
out
the
window and
watched
the
mountains
pass
as
the
bus
headed
north.
I
t
was
a
dreary
day, and had begun to
rain.
She
liked
the
rain
and
the
way
the
dirt
smelled
after a storm
had
just
passed
through.
She
closed
her
eyes,
imagined
playing
in
the
mountains and a sadness overwhelmed her. A tear rolled down her cheek.
S
he
saw
a
bright
flash
and
then
darkness.
She
was
gone now,
her
conscious mind
had shut down
and
a little girl named Megan Davis faded from the earth.
Now
a
mindless
shell
with
one
desire, to feed, woke.
I
t
opened
its
eyes
and
was
filled
with
an
overwhelming
rage
and
desire
to
eat.
Confused
at
first,
it
didn't
see
the
patients
close
to
it,
its
focus
was
immediately
on
the
only
human
it
saw.
I
t
stared
up
the
narrow
isle
at
the
driver,
closer
still
at
the
drivers
neck
and
it
began
to
drool.
D
ropping
out
of
its
rack,
it
began
moving
forward
towards
the
driver,
slowly
at
first
then
faster
and
faster.
It
hit
the
driver
with
enough
force
to
knock
him
into
the
windshield
which
disoriented
him
at
first.
Grabbing his hair, i
t
pushed
his
head
over
to
the
left
with enough force to crack his neck.
E
agerly
it sank its teeth
into
his
neck,
biting
down
hard
it
pulled
back,
taking
a
mouthful
of
skin
and
muscle
with
it.
Tendons
hung
from
between
its
teeth
and
an
arch
of
blood,
under
some
considerable
pressure,
sprayed
across
the
windshield.
Pulsing
red
fluid
sprayed
time
after
time
until
the
driver
hunched
over
the
steering
wheel.
By
now
the
bus
had
left
the
freeway
and
had been
heading
west
on
a
small
county
highway
that
took
them
within five miles of town
.
When
the
driver
was
killed
the
bus
was
near
the
top
of
a
pass
and
veered
sharply
across
the
opposite
lane
then
over
the edge
of
the
road
, crashing
into
a
ravine.
I had left
work
and
began the
drive
down
a
small
single
lane
road
that
lead
to
the
research
facility
from
town.
In
the
distance
to
the
east
I
could
see
a
plume
of
black
smoke
rising
“
Wild
Fire
” I said out loud. I
t
was
the
time
of
year
when
fires
frequented
the
mountain
areas.
But
this
smoke
didn't
have
that
familiar
gray
and
black
billowing
look
to
it
“
It
must
be
a
house
or
something
” I thought,
which
put
me
at
ease a little.
I
n
the
distance
I
could
hear
sirens
from
the
fire
trucks and rescue vehicles
on their way to the crash. T
hey
would
have
it
under
control
quickly
so
there
was
no
reason
to
worry about a fire spreading into town.
The
fire
fighters
that
were
stationed
and
lived
in
the
surrounding
area
were
some
of
the
best
in the state
and
had
shown
time
and
again
they
really
knew
what
they
were
doing.
I
finished
the
short
drive
into
town
and
pulled
into
one
of
my
favorite
bars
to
grab
some
dinner, back to the
Ruger
for a beer and a burger.
I
liked
this
little
place,
although
it
was
kind
of
a
wanna
be
biker
bar,
most
of
the
patrons
were
locals
that
hung
out
there
regularly.