Dorthy

Five

As soon as Dorothy's breath was near-normal, she rolled over and crawled against the bus. She could hear movement inside but Julian was quiet. What should she do? Run? Climb up to see if she could help? Run was the obvious, sensible choice and she was, most of the time, very sensible. But she couldn't just leave her friend.

She looked around for some sort of weapon. The best she could see was a stone that would have been as effective as a fly to be swatted away. Just climb up, she told herself. Have a look. A peek.

She was at the bottom of the bus, the axles and exhaust system creating an easily mounted climbing frame. She took hold, set her foot in place and was about to start up when she realised. She didn't have to climb up. The bus was on its side. She just had to creep around to the back, close to where they'd been sitting, to see.

That's all she had to do.

That's all.

Not much, was it?

Right... Go. Except...

Except, she couldn't move. She felt fixed to the floor, as if the grass had reached up and bound her with Gulliver's ropes. Her pulse's rapidity was a time bomb's ticking, increasing in speed until it was ready to explode.

She was Dorothy. Just a girl. Too normal. Too sensible. Too ready to do the right thing and too unprepared to face whatever was happening. Only a short time ago, she had kissed her aunt goodbye and forgotten her coat. Such simple things felt a world away. A lifetime ago. Perhaps she was actually unconscious. She'd hit her head. This was a dream or a nightmare induced by the crash. She would wake up in hospital or her bed at home. Let it ride out.

But did sleeping people know they were dreaming? Was this the lucid dreaming she'd heard about? Maybe all this was just the playtime of her mind occupying itself until she woke up. She could go along with it. It wasn't real and she wouldn't really get hurt.

Except, her ankle did hurt from her landing. Her head was pounding from the impact with the window. She was afraid and no amount of telling herself it was in her imagination would calm her nerves.

There were no sounds from within the bus. The silence beckoned to Dorothy, enticing her to stand and investigate. Come on, it told her. It's fine. You're fine. Take a look! She was tempted, for a moment. The feeling passed quickly. Whatever had attacked her friend and the others was still in there. Julian was too, and he was beyond her help.

No, tears! Stay away!

She would not cry. She must not. It would alert the things inside. It would crumble what little resolve she was clinging onto and scatter it as dust on the wind. It would ensure she'd suffer the same fate as Julian.

Poor Julian.

She caught the sob in the back of her throat just before it had the chance to escape, swallowing it back down and standing defiant against its mutiny. There was only one thing she could do. Only one course of action.

Go.

Closing her eyes, Dorothy took a deep breath. The air felt different. It was cleaner. Fresher. The storm had washed it clean and was sharpening it as it entered her lungs. She held onto it before letting it out slowly through her nose. She felt cleansed, the aches in her body lessened as if the act of breathing deeply had anaesthetised her injuries. She looked around, seeing her surroundings for the first time.

The road, houses and street lights had gone. There was no large shopping mall nearby, proclaiming that the sales were now on and she could save up to fifty percent in the very shop she had intended to visit. There was a swathe of the greenest grass she had ever seen, with no hint of dog fouling or litter dropping to spoil its emerald flawlessness. This merged with tall, proud trees that looked down upon the shattered vehicle and occupants with disdain. It was dark among the thick trunks, as if the light was unsure of venturing under the canopy of leaves and only tentatively reached in to afford minimal illumination.