The bus smelled of peanuts and strawberry jelly, dirt and unwashed bodies, the subtler scent of the baby wipes the outcasts had tried to clean up with, and the stronger, sharper assault of disinfecting wipes Bud must have used to wipe down the seats before our group boarded his bus. The bus seemed so quiet at first till the pounding of my own heartbeat faded from my ears and I could hear everything else again…Kristina’s whimpers and grunts and the rustling of her clothes and the thuds of her sneakers as she thrashed and occasionally made contact with a seat.
Hands reached out to try and hold Kristina’s limbs still.
“No, don’t hold her down,” Pamela said. “You’ll hurt her.”
It seemed way too warm in here, the air stifling to breathe. Should we open some windows to help Kristina breathe easier?
I looked around for the nearest window to see if they could even be opened and found Hayden standing there, and I couldn’t look away from him. He was staring at the little girl and the group of healers around her, his eyebrows drawn, fists clenched at his side, his entire body rigid. Watching so intently, like all the others. But not like the others.
Some of the men’s faces were resigned, waiting for more death and destruction to come into their world. Only a few of them held any hope still. They had learned the hard way that keeping bad things from their loved ones was no longer within their control.
The women’s and children’s expressions were more openly afraid.
But none of them, including Hayden, feared for themselves. Not this time.
They cared about Kristina. And so did Hayden, but in a different way.
Unlike the others, he wasn’t just watching. He was assessing the situation, his body weight balanced on the balls of his feet as if ready to spring into action and only waiting for his mind to make a decision on what to do. His hands were still clenched into unyielding fists, his jaw muscles knotting and relaxing, knotting and relaxing. He was upset, almost as if he wasn’t just wanting to fix this newest problem but needed to because…
Because…
Because he felt responsible for these people.
And then I understood. I understood why he’d never wanted to do the prison break in the first place, and why he didn’t want to talk about what happened with Damon, why he’d seemed not just freaked out but guilty too after the police officer’s death at the gas station, and why he’d decided to rent this bus and buy all those things for these people.
It was because he was a Shepherd. Because Shepherds always became leaders. It wasn’t just in their history. It was trained into them from birth. He’d known that once he helped free these people, they would become his responsibility, his to lead and take care of, regardless of what other plans he might have once had for himself.
The air caught and held in my lungs, and I raised a hand to my mouth as my eyes stung.
What had I done?
Suddenly, Kristina grew still, and I watched her as everyone else did, forgetting to breathe, waiting for some movement, some sound that would tell us she was still alive. Some sign that everything could still be okay.
Long seconds ticked by. Then a minute.
“Pamela?” I murmured, not wanting to distract her or the other healers who had laid their hands on Kristina’s limbs and temples.
Pamela didn’t move, her eyes still closed, a slight frown of concentration telling us nothing as she slowly slid her palms from the sides of Kristina’s head to the back of the little girl’s skull. Kristina’s eyes rolled in their sockets, unseeing, each blink too slow in coming.
Finally Pamela opened her eyes. “She’s going to be okay. She’s just epileptic.”
A collective sigh whispered through the bus.
“I know what you’re doing here,” Bud said.
Beside me, Hayden jerked once then froze, his gaze dropping down and to the side in Bud’s direction. He winced, and I knew instinctively what he must be thinking. He was hoping Bud wouldn’t say anything else, that Bud wouldn’t become a problem. That Hayden wouldn’t have to do something about that problem. Because, like me, Hayden liked this old man. It was why he’d risked hiring him to be our driver in the first place. He wanted to trust that there were others like me in the world, normals who wouldn’t join the rest of the world in turning against him and his kind.
But these people on this bus had become his, for better or worse. And if necessary, he would do what he must to protect them.
“Why don’t we move closer to the door?” Hayden said, keeping his voice low as he led them both up the aisle towards the front of the bus as if to avoid disturbing the recovering child.
I half turned towards them so I could listen and watch them out of the corner of my eye. And pray with every ounce of willpower within me that Bud would say and do the right thing.
Please. Please don’t make Hayden do something he doesn’t want to do here.
At the steps, Hayden stopped and turned to face Bud, his neck and shoulders stiff.
“That was a prayer circle, wasn’t it?” Bud blurted out, and I nearly dropped to my knees with relief.
Hayden’s eyebrows shot up as his eyes darted from side to side, studying Bud for understanding.
“I’ve seen them before,” Bud continued. “Some call it laying hands on a person, healing hands, healing circles. Things like that.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what you’d call it,” Hayden said, his tone neutral. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Bud said with a firm nod. “I understand completely. Churches don’t do them too often nowadays, what with all this anti-Clann craziness going on. Gives some people the wrong idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the driver’s seat. “I can keep my mouth shut about it.”
“I appreciate that, Bud.” Relief added the tiniest hint of a sigh to Hayden’s voice. “These are good people here. They were just trying to save a little girl’s life.”
I heard Pamela murmur to the others and risked joining Bud and Hayden. “Um, Hayden?”
“It’s all right.” Hayden’s smile was sincere, warming his eyes though it couldn’t erase the tiredness from around them. “Bud knows all about prayer circles. And he’s promised not to mention anything about it to anyone. You know, so no one gets the wrong idea about us.”