Internet 24

They fill the shadows and I can feel the air get colder. One breaks the invisible line between the dark and the light. It stares at me. We both don't move. Is it thinking? Can they think? It slowly moves toward me.

GRANT

I'm here now! I'm ready! If you

get closer, I'll swing and knock

all of you tiny monsters down!

I can feel it. I look down, and there is one of them already next to me. Its tiny hand is grabbing my jeans.

GRANT

Not working this time!

I swing at the monster, and it breaks apart into dark puff clouds. Already many of the nails and screws are frozen. They don't rush me; they take slow steps. I'm not taking my time. I rush in swinging.

GRANT

Ha, told you I would! You thought

I couldn't handle you!

POOF, POOF, POOF! These smoke monsters go down one by one. I run toward them, not giving them a chance to make the first move. I never leave the safety of the light. My clothes get heavier as chunks of ice for on them, as they reach out to grab me, and their ice claws rip into my clothes. I can't slow down; I'm thinning their numbers.

GRANT

Well, guess what? I am not

going down toni...

It was a fun dose of adrenaline. All those small clouds start to clump back together, and they retake their shape and start walking toward me. It feels like I'm holding onto an icicle, and my gloves are frozen onto the bat's handle.

I see one of them crawling like a spider on my bus, going for the door.

GRANT

You are not allowed in there!

POOF!

I get it before it goes inside, but now my bat is broken. It wasn't the only one. The bus windows start to frost as more and more of them crawl onto my bus. I told myself this was going to be my last night, but... I can't. I can't!

I swing at any that are near the door and make it inside. I quickly throw my bat and gloves on the ground. I wasn't kidding about them freezing together. I lock the doors and turn the key in the ignition.

GRANT

Turn on! Come on.

The engine roars, and I peel out onto the road. I can't give up like that. I don't even need to look at the rearview. I know they are after me. Alone on this road with a tsunami of frosting snow and crackling lighting behind me.

What was I thinking? Fighting them, if I stayed, I would have died. There has to be a reason for why they are after me. There has to BE. They had me surrounded. I can't beat them. They were all over, and they could have killed me. What would my obituary be, or my eulogy? What did I live for? Everything was chill, and I was happy, but what did I do? I don't care about being remembered, but WHAT DID I DO?

I don't have regrets, and I loved- love my life. I know I didn't change the world, but thats okay. Not everyone has to. I am in charge of my life and what i do in it is up to me. I wanted to travel to see areas I would have never seen in my life in a way that feels grounded—that is why I got this stupid bus.

It's a life I am happy with, and that's all that matters, but I choose to fight? They could have killed me! They could of... but they didn't. They could have ended me at any point, but instead, they hopped on the bus and tried to get inside.

I'm going to die, but I have to see. I pull over to the shoulder of the road and take the keys out of the ignition. I wait for a minute, then a creak. It's not from the front door but from the back. I hear the door handle turn. The back entrance is wide open, and they stand there. I think they are waiting to see if I do anything. Well, at least thats what I'm doing.

The blankets on my bed go stiff as they make their way toward the front of the bus. They wait, and one steps in, then another. I open the bus's front door, but there they are before I can step off. My body tense, ready for a fight, or I will have to charge right through them, but that doesn't happen. They step aside for me, clearing a path for me to walk. Once I step off, they walk past me. All of them, one by one, walk onto the bus. I stand there, watching.

What are they doing? Are they going to turn my bus into a frozen cocoon? Will they summon an icy snow god, chill out, or something? I wait a minute, but nothing happens. They have all made it inside the sky is blackened with clouds. I feel alone at this moment. The forest feels empty, and a car hasn't been down this road all night. I stand in nothing, waiting for something. I have to know.

I head back inside, and there they all are, sitting. Either on my bed, on the floor, ceiling, counter, on the wall. Wherever there is a space, a creature sits. Except for the driver's seat. The wheel is unfrozen, and the windshield is clear. Then my eyes grow.

One by one, the smoke starts to fade off them. First, I see hair on top of their heads, skin on their hands, shirts, and shoes. Under the smoke, they were...Children. Their eyes are cold, with heavy dark circles around them. The oldest has to be an eighth-grader, with the youngest a kindergartener. They are injured too. I see some bleeding; some have gash wounds and bruised necks, with others pale and parts of their skin blue.

They're dead, and my bus is filled with them.

There is no movement. They sit, waiting for something. Then, a little girl with curly brown hair, bright hazel eyes, and a gash on her forehead stares at the driver's seat. I don't move. How can I? I went from fearing for my life for weeks to staring at a group of kids who had lost their lives. I can't be expected to function, to help, I-

She turned to look at me; they all did. In their eyes wasn't malice or confusion. I can have a sense of trust and expectation. No matter what, they believe I will get in the driver's seat.

I turn the key in the ignition. What else can I do? I put my foot on the gas, and the bus starts moving. The roads are still empty. It's dark as the clouds block the stars in the sky. My headlights act as the only light source until a small beacon shines in the distance. It's a tunnel.

A chill fills me. I look down to find the same curly-haired girl gripping my jacket. Ice spread all through my side. Her hands are shaking, and her eyes are wide. She's afraid. What do I say? I don't know what's going on, but I continue driving. The light at the end of the tunnel shines bright. The closer I get, the harder it is to keep my eyes open.

The light is warm and welcoming. I couldn't slow down if I wanted to. My foot presses down harder. The girl's hand grips tighter, freezing more of my jacket. I get closer and closer. I can't see, but I speed through the light. It's gorgeous, its warms, its...