Patrick P.O.V.
I woke up to screaming.
I jolted awake, almost hitting my head on the ceiling of the bus above me. I looked around and saw Pete standing up, looking as confused as me. Joe and Andy wore the same expressions.
I realized it was our bus driver screaming. Suddenly, the bus lurched right and we all shifted sideways. I rolled out of my bunk and landed with a thump on the ground. Hard.
Pain shot up my side and I felt Pete helping me up.
"What the fuck is happening?" He shouted, trying to be heard over the screams of our driver and and squeal of tire on asphalt.
I looked toward the drivers compartment, where the screaming was coming from. I made my way over to it and leaned in. What I saw, I will never forget.
The entire front of our bus was on fire. Red white flames licked up the metal. As my eyes traveled up, I saw why there was so much screaming.
Our bus driver had flames sliding up his legs. The skin was an ugly red and pink, blistering his legs like bubbles.
He had tears falling from his eyes and shouts for help erupting from his mouth like a volcano. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how.
I knew I had to do something. If I didn't, Pete, Joe, and Andy would be dead. I ran back to our bunks and ripped one of the curtains from the rod, earning a few confused looks from the guys.
"Mark's on fucking fire", I shouted and ran back to the drivers compartment, not waiting to hear their responses.
I pulled Mark out of his seat and started hitting his legs with the curtain. The fire finding their way up his legs subsided, leaving him crying and whimpering in front of the door that led to our bunks.
Suddenly, the bus lurched right again, much sharper than last time. I fell sideways onto the ground. I hit my head on the wall hard and saw black spots.
I saw that the door had slammed closed as well. I stumbled over to it and tried to open it. It didn't budge.
Smoke was starting to fill the small room. I started coughing from the smoke entering my lungs. My asthma did nothing to help.
The bus lurched again and realized no one was driving. I stumbled to the driver seat and grabbed the wheel, not daring to touch the pedals and meet the same fate as Mark.
I tried to focus on the steering wheel. But that proved difficult. My eyes were watering from the smoke, and at this point I couldn't stop coughing. And I felt a sticky substance leaking down my face. I touched my cheek and looked at my hand. It was coated in red.
I put all my focus on keeping the wheel straight. I managed to do that. Slowly, the bus came to a stop. But not fast enough.
The entire dash was on fire. I saw a flame jump at my arm, desperate to grab on. I jerked away, but not quick enough. The orange flame found its way to my wrist and didn't let go. A pain like I had never experienced before took over.
I screamed. I shouted my god damn head off. I was on fucking fire, the lyrics becoming a bit too literal.
I ran to the door, tripping over Mark's unmoving body. I started banging on the door with my hand that wasn't aflame.
I heard pounding on the other side of the door and muffled shouts of "Patrick!"
"Help, Pete! It fucking hurts so bad!" I pleaded.
The flames were quickly licking up my arm. The white hot pain only worsened. I couldn't stop screaming.
I started to see black. I saw a dark tunnel around my vision.
I stopped banging on the door, not having enough energy to continue. I heard my band mates shouting my name. But they started to fade. Everything was fading...
