Harvest of The Fallen

Chapter 07

The bus crashed and rolled several times before finally coming to a stop.

Laga lay buried beneath a pile of seats and the carcasses of two Stoneback Wolves. He groaned a few times before forcing himself to crawl out.

As he squeezed through an opening in the wreckage, he noticed some writing on the side of the bus. His lips moved as he quietly muttered to himself.

One by one, the passengers began climbing out of the wreckage, except for the overweight man, who remained stuck in the opening.

“Help me!” the fat man shouted, struggling to free himself.

“Get out yourself, you damn pig!” snapped the long-haired man.

Laga checked his body, wiping the blood from his forehead.

“My shoulder, chest, and arms are injured from those damn wolves. My clothes are torn on both sleeves, too. I look just like a real prisoner.”

“Oh, God! I look like a mess! My buttons are gone!” The red-haired woman tied the bottom of her shirt together.

“Oh, just shut up, bitch!” The tattooed woman snapped, clutching her head.

Laga stood among the group, frozen in place.

His eyes barely moved.

“Where... am I?”

Four streetlights stood along both sides of the road, casting a dim yellow glow.

As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but darkness and thick fog. The smell of sulfur still lingered in the air, although it wasn't nearly as strong as before.

“Those damn wolves ruined my hair,” the long-haired man muttered.

“We... aren't in a forest.” The man with glasses adjusted his glasses and looked around.

“We've been moving straight ahead ever since we woke up on that bus. But there’s no vehicle towing it, and there doesn’t seem to be any mechanism controlling it from outside.”

He looked down at the road beneath his feet. “We can breathe normally. I thought... we’d drop dead the moment we stepped off the bus.”

“Damn it. I can't think straight in a situation like this,” the muscular man muttered.

The red-haired woman immediately snapped back. “You clearly don't have a brain to think with!”

“This road...” the middle-aged man said.

Everyone looked toward him.

“It isn't made of asphalt. It's made from bones of various shapes and sizes. They're neatly arranged and interlocked to form a smooth surface.”

He paused.

“Some of them are... human bones.”

“Oh, God!” The red-haired woman fanned her face with both hands. “I'm glad we're not in the forest anymore, but this place is terrifying too. I can't see anything except darkness, fog, and your ugly faces.”

She rubbed her chest. “Calm down, Ale.”

“So your name is Ale?” The muscular man smirked. “Whatever your name is, I'm still calling you Tomato.”

Ale rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And I'm still calling you Muscle Man, even though I know your name now.”

“You know my name?”

“It's Don, right? You muttered it before we got off the bus. You even called for your mother.”

Don snorted and walked toward the edge of the road. “The railing is probably made of bones too.”

He looked down. “I can't see anything beneath the road. It's probably some kind of bridge.”

The tattooed woman pointed into the darkness ahead. “If the bus was moving straight this whole time, then we came from that direction.”

“So if we go that way, we might find some clues?” the long-haired man asked.

“Three people died horrible deaths right in front of us. That proves this isn't some prank show or anything like that.” The middle-aged man spoke up. “That bus protected us from danger, even though the monsters eventually managed to break inside.”

He glanced at the wreckage. “Now that the bus is destroyed, we're in serious danger.”

Laga surveyed the surroundings, touched the bone-covered road, and looked at the group.

“When the fog seeped into the bus, the smell of sulfur became overwhelming.”

He took a slow breath.

“But here, we can breathe normally, even though the smell of sulfur is still in the air.”

The fat man finally managed to squeeze out of the wreckage. He approached the group while carrying a long metal bar.

“What?” he asked after noticing everyone staring at him. “Aren't you happy I'm still alive?”

“You need to see this,” Laga said, pointing toward the wreckage. “This is the plate from our bus. It has the code HRVST 404 3471.”

He touched the code on his neck. “That ‘404’ matches the code on all of our necks.”

Everyone immediately fell silent, touching their own necks.

“HRVST is probably...” The man with glasses paused. “...derived from the word ‘harvest.’ And 3471 is likely the bus's individual identification number.”

“Wait.” The long-haired man looked at everyone.

“If this bus is numbered 3471, that means there are probably many other buses carrying people like us...”

“...to somewhere,” the middle-aged man finished.

The fat man swallowed. “Where are those buses taking them? And us?”

He pointed at the plate. “HRVST means ‘harvest,’ right?”

No one answered.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Don walked over and patted Laga on the shoulder.

“What's your name, boy? You're pretty useful. You took down that damn wolf by yourself and even figured out its weakness.”

“I’m... Laga.”

“Unique name. Better than some of the weird names I've heard lately.”

“Are you making fun of my name?” Ale snapped.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Boma.” The fat man bowed slightly. “I'm a restaurant chef. My hobbies are watching movies, gaming, and sleeping. I live in—”

“Nobody asked for your name or your life story, Fatso!” the long-haired man interrupted.

Boma scratched his head. “I thought we should get to know each other so we can work together. We can't possibly survive in this strange place alone, especially with those monsters around.”

He paused.

“And one more thing. I'm older than you. You should show me some respect.”

“We aren't schoolchildren exchanging names and addresses.” The long-haired man glanced at Laga. “The only schoolkid here is Laga.”

“W-what should we do, Old Man?” Ale instinctively grabbed Don's hand. “Should we go back the way we came, stand here like idiots, or head in the opposite direction?”

“Get your hands off me, Tomato!” Don barked, shoving her away. “You're sullying my precious muscles!”

“I didn't mean to touch... your ugly muscles.”

Ale covered her mouth and yawned. “I'm feeling sleepy.”

One by one, the passengers began yawning.

Laga touched his injured shoulder, forcing himself to stay awake. “We'd better keep moving.”

He looked toward the darkness ahead. “When the bus was thrown into the air, I caught a glimpse of hundreds of red lights and two massive lights coming toward us.”

Laga paused and took a deep breath.

“I saw a huge pack of wolves... and an eagle.”

Everyone immediately froze.

“What?” Ale shouted. “Why didn't you say so sooner, brat? We're in danger! No—we've been in danger from the very beginning!”

“I was in danger too!”

Don let out a long breath. “We know the damn wolves' weakness, but we'd still have trouble fighting a large pack.”

He glanced at the others. “Especially since some of us are useless.”

Ale and Boma exchanged a brief glance. “Besides, eagles usually attack from above. If we want to take one down, we need to lure it to the ground so that—”

The man with glasses suddenly sprinted ahead and grabbed two iron bars from the bus wreckage. His figure quickly disappeared into the darkness.

“Damn!” The long-haired man immediately chased after him.

“I hate running!” Boma started running but suddenly stopped beside the bus wreckage, panting heavily.

“I'm going to be sick. Can't we just fix the bus?”

“You morons!”

Don shouted from behind them.

“Moving around on your own will only make you easier targets!”

He looked toward the darkness where the others had disappeared.

“Got a plan, Old Man?”