Dorthy

Three

The bus rocked. It seemed to shiver in great tremors as if a huge hand were shaking it, trying to force the occupants out. There were no thick fingers, however. There was only the unseen wind, buffeting the vehicle with the ferocity of a bull throwing a red caped matador into the air.

Julian gulped down his fright, a solid lump in his throat, and tried to rouse Dorothy from her trance. He took her chin and turned her face to his.

"Dorothy?"

She looked at him, oblivious to his identity and, possibly, his presence.

"Dorothy? Come on, focus. We need to get off this bus."

He was trying to keep his voice calm but, with every shudder of the bus, a similar tremble rippled through him. Dorothy continued to stare. People continued to scream and cry. Outside, he heard windows smash as objects being blown through the air hit them. The storm had increased suddenly and they needed to take shelter. They were close to the mall. They'd be safe in there. He'd make up for his lewd comment. He'd pay recompense for being a constant fool. He could do this.

"Dottie!" he shouted, emotion gravelling his voice to give it the edge of feet crunching across a pebbled driveway.

Dorothy blinked and looked up into his eyes, recognition lifting their veil. She raised her hand to slap him and he grabbed it before it could make contact.

"We need to move," he said as calmly as his nerves would allow. "Now."

Dorothy looked around the bus and gasped.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. We swerved to miss a tree, then that guy threatened the driver. Next thing a car hit us and... I don't know. The storm came out of nowhere. We need to take shelter."

When Julian indicated the dead body in the aisle, Dorothy looked and turned away. The corpse could have been a rug or a log. Or perhaps one of the pushchairs rolled from the metal storage area. There was no trace of shock or disgust.

"We can't leave," she said.

She seemed calm, in contrast to the raging violence outside the bus and the madness inside. She had been snapped out of her reverie and was back to being her sometimes too-sensible self. Outside, the wind was strong enough to lift them and toss them where it wished, ragdolls onto the floor of a child's bedroom. And the rain was heavy enough to drench them in a heartbeat. They should stay. Dry and contained and safe. Wait until the emergency services came or the storm abated.

"Listen to everyone," insisted Julian. "They're panicking. One guy is already dead. The mall's not far. I can see the lights from here. We'll be much better off there."

To Dorothy, it sounded as if the other passengers were not the only ones panicking. Julian himself was clearly badly shaken. He was also delirious. They would never make it to the mall. The winds were too strong and the rain too heavy. They needed to stay.

"We can't," she said quietly. "It's too dangerous out there. We'll never make it."

"Suit yourself," said Julian. His moment of chivalry had passed, blown away by the high winds of self-preservation. He moved to the doors and forced them open. They were stiff, the emergency locking mechanism broken and unyielding. "Give me a hand!"

Dorothy shook her head. If he couldn't leave, he couldn't be hurt. By remaining in her seat, she was saving him - though he didn't see it. The storm seemed alive, tearing at the world with invisible, but tangibly savage, claws. She could shut out the others. Make them white noise. But she knew Julian. She didn't care about them. She didn't particularly care about him, either, but her lack of concern was... less.

"I'm not staying. You can, but I'm not. I'm getting off this bus one way or another. Help me or I'll kick the doors down."

Dorothy had a fleeting image of him being the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing away but, in her head, something bigger huffed and puffed. Julian was the house blown down. She sighed. Fine. She'd help him. It was his life. It could be his death. Not that she'd wish him dead. He might make it. She could hope.

She stood and began to pull the doors open with him. Using their feet to push against the inner surfaces of the bus, the doors slowly began to move.

Then Dorothy happened to look up. And she gasped. And let go of the doors.

Released, they suddenly slammed shut, the hydraulics hissing in relief. Julian cried out as they shut on his fingers. He wrenched his hands back and held his hands up. There was no damage, the rubber coating which ran up the edges of the door frames protecting him, but he inspected them anyway. He turned to the girl who, under other circumstances, he'd barely talk to apart from making - to him - good natured jibes.

"What the..."

Then he saw the look on her face. The wide eyes. The open mouth. He followed her gaze and promptly forgot his fingers. Together, they backed away from the doors. They didn't notice the bus had gone silent. The screaming had stopped. The crying too. As the tornado, a tall funnel of chaos, approached, devouring all in its path, the screaming began again. This time, the voices were joined by two others as both Dorothy and Julian fell back against the seat they'd occupied when their only concerns were a pair of jeans and a bit of a laugh.

The bus was lifted effortlessly. A leaf on a breeze. A feather detached from the wing. At first, it simply raised up, straight and level. The entire company of passengers held their collective breath, a breath that was expelled suddenly as the tornado's current ripped at the vehicle, throwing it around and around. Julian vomited, feeling as if he were caught up in the spout of an eternally emptying bath.

Dorothy buried her head in her hands, bending forward and bracing herself against the seat, wishing she'd done as she had promised her Aunt Hayley and brought a coat.