The Mind of The Daleks

Chapter Two: Crash

The world was upside-down and everything was mayhem. 

With a screech of brakes and a loud crash, the bus overturned, bounced, rolled off the road and down what seemed a very long hill. When at last it came to a stop, Isabel was against the window with blood running down her cheek and arm and someone else's boot almost in her mouth.

Beyond the rhythms and chords leaking from the headphones that were still halfway on her ears, she could hear someone screaming and someone else letting loose a stream of profanities that would have made Hollywood blush. She had the indistinct memory of screaming herself and a rasp in her throat to confirm it.

For a moment, Isabel lay there, shocked and stunned. But then she realized that she was supporting more weight then was her fair share and squirmed and wriggled until the three or four bodies on top of her began to shift and move away. She had been seated on the right side of the bus, which was the side that it now rested on. Everyone else had landed in a painful and writhing heap on her.

"Is everyone alright?" someone called out in a voice that shook.

A chorus of frightened voices answered so heartily that most if not all of the passengers must have escaped without serious injury.

"Does anybody smell gas?" an authoritative voice demanded. "Did the tank rupture?"

"No..."

"Um, I don't think so."

"Where's the driver? Does anyone see her? Is she alright?"

"I'm fine." The driver rose, shaking, from a crumpled mass that had been the driver's seat. "The gas tank was almost empty. But we should probably get away from here anyway."

"Yeah, let's get outta here!"

"Where's the door? Can somebody get to it?"

Isabel struggled to her feet and pulled off her headphones. She couldn't see her bag.

A young man near the back had found the mechanism for the emergency door. It swung open with a jerk and someone who had been leaning against it tumbled backward out of the bus with a shout.

"Okay, c'mon, people!" a man shouted, sterner than he probably intended, "Let's get out. Easy now! Not too fast."

Isabel stuffed her MP3 player into a pocket, pulling off the headphones which were too big to fit. Fortunately, she had already put her cell phone in the pocket of her jacket, so she wouldn't have to look for it in the bag that was buried somewhere among the wreckage.

"There's somebody hurt back here!" called someone from the front of the bus. "Can somebody give me a hand?"

One of the blue collar workers turned back and without any impoliteness shoved past Isabel.

"Does anybody else need help?" the doctor asked, shouting to be heard over the babble of other voices. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ben was only just rising, a dazed look on his face.

There was a man just in front of Isabel with a deep gash across his head and who hadn't opened his eyes. She bent down and slipped an arm under his shoulders. The doctor took his other arm and together they made their way toward the back of the bus.

It was almost empty now, the passengers easing their way out and helping their wounded neighbors. Isabel and her two companions were among the last.

They all stood or sat among the grass and sage and tumbleweeds at last, shaken, bruised, and a little bloody. The medical professionals bent over the worst wounds to do anything they could.

"Is everybody here?"

"There were twenty-seven passengers."

"Let's see. One. Two..."

"Yeah, we're all here."

"Is everybody okay?"

"He's coming around! He'll be alright."

"What the hell happened?"

Everybody looked at the driver, who was sitting with her knees drawn up under her chin, trembling. "I don't know what happened," she said, her voice bewildered but almost as competent as usual. "I just couldn't control the bus. There weren't even any other drivers on the road."

"What about that flash?" someone asked. "Where did that come from?"

The driver looked up, even more confused. "What flash?"

There was complete silence for a moment as everyone looked at her in astonishment; even the woman who was on the verge of hysterics stopped and gasped. Then several people started to talk at once, with a cacophony of conflicting attempts to explain or question further.

Isabel stepped back out of the crowd a little. She wasn't too badly hurt, but she felt a little nauseous and was beginning to shake. The argument about what had happened didn't interest her. She reached for her cell phone and flipped it open, but then froze as she glanced at the screen.

It read "Out of range."

In the middle of a city? Less than a mile from a heavily trafficked road? What...?

"Quick! You must get away from here!"

A distant voice drifted down to her from somewhere outside the small circle of shaken survivors. She looked up locate it.

The small rise the bus had rolled down grew progressively into a rather high hill; Isabel had climbed a few steps up it to get away from everybody else. Just visible cresting it and still at a distance was the figure of a man; a preposterous figure in a long- tailed coat and – yes! – baggy plaid pants. It was he who was calling to them.

"There's no time to lose!" he shouted, breathless and unexpectedly revealing a British accent. "We must all get away from here at once. Come along! As quickly as you can!"

He tumbled recklessly down the hill toward them, disregarding anything that got in his way. There was something about his sudden and urgent appearance that galvanized the small group into action. Everyone who could manage the effort got to their feet and several took a few steps toward him.

"Who the heck are you?" one of the young men asked.

"And what do you mean-" began someone else.

"Please," the man had arrived by the outskirts of the group at a dusty run. He gasped for breath and made a wild gesture with one hand while with the other he clutched Isabel's elbow, since she happened to be nearest. "There's no time to explain! They're almost here! We must get away quickly; come on."

He turned and began to run back again the way he came, bearing to the right, away from the road. He dragged Isabel with him; almost involuntarily, the rest of the group followed, helping or carrying the hurt.

"But, who?" asked Ben, gasping and wheezing as he tried to keep the strenuous pace. "Who is almost here?"

The man did not slow but turned his face over his shoulder so that his voice could reach everyone. "Your worst enemies - the Daleks!"

At that moment, they reached the top of the hill and stumbled over it together. And then saw that it was too late.