Cryptophobia - Outbreak

CHAPTER 8: 1:10pm - 1 Hour, 25 Minutes since outbreak

The sound of Terry's Papa Roach ringtone filled the bus and continued on for some time before eventually ceasing.

Terry himself roused from his dazed state, unsure of where he was for a moment. His head was pounding and his vision slightly blurred. He groaned as he rolled on to his side, every bit of his body ached.

His phone began to ring again, snapping him out of his dazed state, before once again going silent. Something trickled down his face and upon raising his hand to inspect it he discovered it was blood.

"Shit..." He groaned, but it seemed superficial. He was covered in glass. He glanced around, inspecting the wreck and was suddenly hit with the thought of his son.

His eyes darted to and fro looking for George, but for a few seconds he couldn't find his boy. It became clear why, for he spotted his boy covered, almost hidden away by glass and damaged chairs.

Terry scrambled to his feet and ran over to push the broken chairs off of his son. He then brushed off the glass and held his unconscious son in his arms, or at least Terry prayed he was unconscious.

"George, speak to me". He gently shook George, hoping his boy would stir, before running his fingers through his hair and bringing his mouth closer to his ear to check he was still breathing. He was, thank God.

"George, wake up, son".

George did finally stir and moan, much to Terry's profound relief. His eyes gradually opened and his first words were.

"I'm thirsty..."

Terry chuckled.

"Let's worry about getting you out of here first, okay?"

"Where are we...?"

"The bus, it crashed. Does anything hurt?" George attempted to move all limbs.

"I don't think so, my body just aches".

"Okay, that's good. You have a few scrapes and bruises, but you should be fine".

"You're bleeding, dad".

"I know, I'll be okay, don't worry about me. Can you get up?"

"I think so".

"I'll help you up, hold on to me". Terry assisted his son to his feet. "Holding up well there, son. That's a good lad".

"Help me..."Came the weak voice of someone towards the back of the mangled bus.

"Hold on! I'm coming back!" Terry shouted. With everything on its side, it would be no easy exit.

"I'm going to hoist you up", he informed George and put his arms around his son to lift him up to the smashed windows above.

"Be careful, don't touch the remaining shards of glass or stand on them if you can, stand on the sides and climb down carefully, don't take any unnecessary risks".

"I'll be okay, dad", George replied, grabbing the window panels and pulling himself up. Terry watches as he pulled himself up and stepped up onto the side if the bus.

"You okay up there?"

"I'm fine".

"Okay now carefully drop down to the road".

"There's people all around. There's smoke coming from the bus, dad!"

"Don't panic, just get down, I'll be with you momentarily, lad".

"I don't want to go without you, dad".

"You'll be okay, I'm just behind you". Terry watched after his son, glad that he had thrown himself on top of the boy and in doing so managed to cushion some of the impacts that could have potentially been fatal.