Last Omnibus to the Badlands

A ticket to the beginning of the end.

 

  He moved to the back of the bus and, with a sigh, sat down. As usual the damn thing was late and he had been freezing his butt off waiting for it. He liked it at the back here, with the extra heat from the engine. No way would he have ventured out on a cold winter’s day like this if he didn’t have an appointment - and a promise was a promise. The bus shuddered slowly underway and his one hour journey into town commenced. Fifteen minutes later he was drifting off into a light snooze when a bright light accompanied by a screeching of brakes abruptly shook him into full consciousness. Then there was silence. He squinted painfully, trying to focus on his surroundings. As his eyes adjusted he saw his travelling companions gazing, speechless, out of the windows. They appeared to be in the middle of a desert! Wez crouched as he stood to get a panoramic view through all the windows - there was no doubt about it, somehow the bus was in a desert. A woman looked up at him as if to speak but she couldn’t find the words. He made his way down the gangway to the front of the bus. The driver was in shock and didn’t respond to his question: ’What the hell happened?’

Wez knew the driver from many past journeys so he asked again.

‘I, I dunno, I just came around a corner and was blinded by a terrible white light and then this…’

‘I don’t suppose you recognize any of this, this desert?’

The driver just turned to him: ‘This is some seriously weird s**t’

‘You got that right, I’m gonna take a look from up stairs. You better turn the engine off and come up’

A murmur from the passengers was beginning to gather momentum. From the upper deck all they could see was sand stretching to the horizon in every direction.

‘How in the hell is this possible?’ asked the driver.

‘You don’t suppose it’s some kind of illusion do you?’ said Wez unconvincingly.

‘Guess we better step outside to make sure’

The heat made them gasp for air as they emerged from the bus.

‘This ain’t no illusion’ concluded the driver.

‘This is one goddamned real desert’

‘Actually it’s tundra or scrubland’ said a female voice.

‘You see the little plants and cacti among the rocks - this is what our American friends call The Badlands’

They turned to see a formidable looking woman of middle years with sensible shoes and her hair in a bun.

‘You know this place?’ asked Wez.

‘Of course not, silly man, I just know it’s generic description’

‘It’s what?’

‘I’m a garden designer and horticulturist’

‘Well I’m a bus driver and I say we get outta this heat, desert or whatever the hell it is’

Retiring back inside they were regaled with questions by the passengers. Some were scared, some curious and some, laughably, wanted to know how late this ‘detour’ was going to make them. The driver grew tired of the hubbub and shouted:

‘Listen I don’t have any answers for you but if anyone has any ideas about what we should do then speak up’

There was silence. Then Wez spoke: ‘Anybody tried their mobiles?’

There was a unanimous ‘no signal’ response.

‘Has the time changed from when we started out?’ he asked.

It appeared the time was as it should have been - it was 11.20 am.

‘Well at least we’ve just moved in space and not time as well’

His joke was met with silence.

‘Excuse me’ said a small voice from the back.

Wez turned to see a small boy with his arm raised.

‘What’s up son?’

The kid pointed out of the window. They all peered in the direction of his gesture. On the horizon they could see what appeared to be the silhouette of a dinosaur. It was coming towards them at a run.

‘Oh, give me a break’ said the driver ‘a friggin’ T- Rex already’

‘Actually that’s an Allosaurus, it predates the Tyrannosaurus by a few million years’ said their resident female fauna and flora expert shaking her head sadly at the ignorance of her companions.

‘Whatever it is I don’t like the way it’s heading towards us like a guided missile’ said Wez ‘I reckon you should fire the bus up’

The driver was already making his way to his cab. The creature was almost upon them as the engine fired and the driver floored the accelerator. The dinosaur veered to run alongside the bus as it gathered speed. Its beady eye glinted greedily with anticipation as it focused on the meals within the bus.

‘Can’t you get any more speed out of this thing? I don’t like the way our new friend is looking at me’ implored Wez.

‘I’m tryin’ to stop us overturning by hitting these rocks, perhaps the thing will tire out soon, oh s**t’

The bus veered violently to avoid an abyss that suddenly appeared in front of them. By inches it escaped plunging down into oblivion. The dinosaur was not so lucky and fell with its great legs still striding as if it was trying to run on the air. The bus slid to a halt in a cloud of sand and dust with the occupants screaming. A quiet sobbing replaced the screaming after a while.

‘Everyone OK?’ asked the driver.

‘Looks like I was wrong about the space/time thing " this definitely isn’t the 21^st century’ exclaimed Wez regaining his composure after falling into the lap of the formidable lady with encyclopedic knowledge.

‘What is your name, by the way?’

‘Caroline’ she said straightening her hair bun.

‘I’m Wez, are you OK? Sorry about falling on you’

‘That’s perfectly alright, given the circumstances, young man’

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Certainly’

‘Do you have any memories of before you got onto this bus?’

She thought for a moment and then with an expression of surprise she said: ‘You know, now that you mention it, I don’t remember a thing before the bus. Perhaps that blinding light has induced amnesia. Do you remember anything?’

‘I’m afraid I do but I’ll bet my last dollar that nobody else on this bus does’

‘I don’t understand, what are you saying?’ she said with rising anxiety.

‘I wasn’t sure until the dinosaur turned up but if I’m right all of you would seem to be characters within a story I’m writing. You see, I write science fiction’

Chapter 2

 

The HQ of WritersCafe.org

 

  A rather eccentrically dressed young woman knocked on an office door with the legend ‘Director General’ engraved on its glass panel.

‘Come’ said a voice with an authoritative air.

‘Ah, Marjorie, my dear, do take a seat’ said the DG as she entered.

‘Would you care for a coffee?’

‘N, no thank you sir’ she stammered.

‘Oh no formalities please Marjorie, call me Bob’ he smiled.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

‘So something odd has happened down there on the coalface I hear?’

‘Oh, indeed yes sir, I mean Bob’ she shuffled uncomfortably in her chair.

‘It seems as if, well, I mean it would appear that…’ her voice trailed off.

‘Come my dear, time is money you know’ he said with an ironic grin.

She straightened herself as if to make a profoundly shocking remark that she would rather not.

‘It seems that one of our published stories is writing itself’

‘Go on’ he said with incredulity.

‘Obviously the story must be generated by someone somewhere but we cannot locate its source. It seems to be writing slowly all of the time. There’s no ‘copy and pasting’ as far as we can tell. Must be a new software that we are unaware of’

‘Where is it, let me have a look’ he said turning to his PC.

She directed him to the text and he began to read what was just emerging in the narrative.

After a moment he turned to her, as white as a sheet, and said: ‘My God, what the hell is this’

She gazed at the text that had just typed out the words: ‘My God, what the hell is this?’

 

                                     **********************************************************

 

‘You really expect me to believe such nonsense? That I am just a product of your imagination - that’s madness young man’

‘I’m sorry, and you’re absolutely right, it is madness but that’s what seems to be happening. I thought it must be a dream but I can’t convince myself of that. You’re not going to like this but I think I can prove it’

‘Since I have nowhere to go I will indulge you in this fantasy - go on, prove it’

‘First I must ask you to keep what I’m going to say a secret from the others. If I am mad I don’t want it to infect our companions in this weird adventure. You agree?’

‘Whatever you wish, Wez is it?’

‘Thanks. Now if I’m right in about five minutes a Native American will appear on horseback. Will you come with me to speak with him?’

Caroline was not easily disconcerted but Wez was getting to her:

‘What then? Are we to ride away with him to visit the Great Spirit?’

Wez stared at her expressionlessly.

‘Alright, but when this turns out to be mere delusion I must ask you to leave me alone’

‘Agreed, now watch’

After a few minutes Caroline grew restless:

‘I really must object, now I’ve tolerated your nonsense for long enough please go and sit somewhere else, I must…’

Wez pointed to the Lakota emerging over the hill to the west. The other passengers saw him and began to debate whether he was dangerous or not. Wez beckoned Caroline to follow him as he made his way to the door.

‘No need to panic’ he said to the driver ‘I know this man, open the door please’

The voices of the passengers rose in anticipation and confusion as the two stepped out into the heat of the day. The Lakota rode up to them and gazed down upon the strange beings.

‘It’s a hot day Twelvetrees’ said Wez.

The warrior was surprised by the greeting:

‘You know me, white man?’

‘You could say that I’ve read about your exploits in the past and in the future’

He dismounted and faced Wez:

‘You are a time traveler too?’

‘In a way, let me introduce my companion, this is Caroline and I am Wez’

He nodded politely to the unusually silent white woman.

‘How does my life come to be written about in a white man’s book?’

‘It is enough that you believe that I know you to be a man of courage and integrity; a man willing to help those in need’

Twelvetrees looked at them with a penetrating eye. Then he looked upon the bus and said:

‘You came here in that machine? If it can travel in time why do you need my help?’

‘We don’t understand how it got us here - where is ‘here’ precisely?’

‘This is what the whites call Montana, in their year of 1870’

‘Certainly Montana but some millions of years before 1870 Mr. Twelvetrees’ interjected Caroline.

‘Your woman speaks loudly Wez’

‘She does, but sometimes with wisdom’ replied Wez quickly overriding the protestations of his companion.

‘We encountered a dinosaur moments ago which has confused our assessment of the date considerably’

‘I hate those things’ said Twelvetrees ‘I don’t know if they are survivors from ancient times or the product of experiments by other travelers’

‘Where is the nearest settlement, could you lead us there Twelvetrees?’

‘If you will tell me of the book of Twelvetrees I will take you there, it’s about a day’s ride from here’

‘Thank you, our machine can travel at all speeds so we can follow you. I will speak of the book when we rest for the night. If you or your horse need water let me know, I’m sure we can find some for you’

They returned to the bus and informed the driver of their plan. The passengers were relieved of at least some of their anxieties and started to relax slightly.

Seated again, Caroline turned to him:

‘If I was to accept your explanation for all of this then the implications would be overwhelming. You would be some kind of creator God - indeed you would be my creator’

‘I’m no God and if I’m your creator let’s hope I’m also your savior because my life would seem to depend on that too’

 

Chapter 3

 

Robert Pretorius had always thought of himself as a rational man. He knew, without exception, the difference between fact and fiction. His love of writing had started at a very young age; being a sickly child confined to his bed for long periods he had created his own fictional world in which to live. This was the power of storytelling; the suspension of disbelief enabling the mind to create a convincing and exciting alternative. Sometimes this kind of creativity could approach the lofty heights of an art form which might even challenge and potentially change values and perceptions. But to have a story articulate his life and that of his colleagues as it unfolded in real time was madness. He had gone back to the story called ‘Last Omnibus to the Badlands’ with always the same result which gave him a nasty hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. His colleagues, in contrast, were excited by what they considered to be a marvelous illusion. But Bob knew it was something more, something monstrous and wished he had never encountered it. They were all discussing it in the canteen when a young man he did not recognize asked if he could sit opposite him. Bob beckoned him to the vacant seat.

‘Thank you Mr. Pretorius. Have you ever read a book entitled The Post Modern Catastrophe?’

He had always been contemptuous of such works and said politely that he had not.

‘Well Marjorie and I think it might represent a clue as to what is happening with ‘the story’’

‘You mean our Marjorie - Marjorie Carstairs?’

‘Yes, hasn’t she mentioned me? I’m her boyfriend Tim’

Of course you are, he thought glumly.

‘Well anyway in this book Professor McNulty predicts a time when our culture looses the ability to distinguish between fictional narrative and reality. He goes as far as to say that culturally our species was always heading inexorably towards this synthesis’

‘Judging by the title he’s not too enthusiastic about the results of his own theory’ replied Bob.

‘Oh no, he thinks it’ll be the end of everything’ smiled Tim enthusiastically.

Why do the young always embrace dystopian futures with such enthusiasm wondered Bob.

‘Well anyway, Marjorie and I thought we might try to contact Professor McNulty and see what he thinks about ‘the story’’

‘And have you done so?’

‘We have tried but he seems to have ‘gone to ground’ and nobody knows where he is’

‘Rather a dead end then’

‘Well, we might have the solution to the mystery next door’

‘You mean that Private Detective guy?’

‘We would like your permission to employ him on the case’

His stomach began to churn; now this nightmare was turning into a film noir.

 

Night had engulfed the ‘badlands’ with a profound darkness that was yet another novelty for the passengers of the bus. The stars scintillated within their ancient constellations uninterrupted by any man made light pollution. A distant wolf howled into the emptiness as if to reassure itself of its own existence. The passengers had scavenged what food they could from the contents of their accessories and were eating wide eyed at the sight from their windows. Twelvetrees had listened to what Wez had to say as he and Caroline sat around a campfire a little way off from the bus.

‘That is a good story, do you believe it?’ he said.

Wez looked up from the remains of his snickers bar:

‘You’re right Twelvetrees, it’s a good story but I wouldn’t believe it, even though I appear to be living it’

‘You have made better stories?’

‘Perhaps, but the characters in this one seem particularly believable, after all I’m having a conversation with two of them now’

‘You make your stories with a machine, how advanced is it technologically?’ Asked the Lakota.

‘I know what you’re getting at: has my computer become self aware - conscious. That would seem unlikely as it’s not exactly ‘top of the range’ - although…’

‘Although what?’ exclaimed Caroline.

‘Well it is a custom job made by a friend of mine. He’s talented but even he couldn’t make a computer that transforms stories into reality’

‘What about this website, Writer’s Café, or whatever it’s called - could that be responsible in some way?’

‘I did try to upload the story the night before I got on this bus but there was some kind of malfunction that I’d assumed had prevented it from doing so. Although both of your theories will be tested soon’

‘How?’  said Twelvetrees and Caroline simultaneously.

‘Well, you see, this is as far as I’ve got with the story. I’m rather curious to see what will happen next’

 

To be continued…?

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

This kept me interested and involved throughout. Though it jumps around a bit, I managed to keep up. You have a great imagination.
I see you have many reads; and one reported review, which is no longer in the review section. I could hypothesize a bad review deleted, or a self deleted comment by an impartial observer, with second thoughts.
Either way, I'm disappointed by the lack of feedback on this writing.
As a side note: this brings to mind the reaction, of people I know, to "Cloud Atlas". After explaining incarnations through differing timelines and that the characters represent a group of souls are connected throughout many differing lifetimes with the focus on the two main characters. The light, although dim, switched on.
I did not notice any spelling and grammar issues, apart from an absence of punctuation within quotations. Because this held true throughout, I presume it to be a deliberate choice.
I like the inclusion of WC Admin. This added a fair degree of levity, at just the right point.
I enjoyed this writing and am glad that it came to my attention. This is the first time I've made that distinction here on WC.

[Wez Hardyn]

Thanks for the review - like you I have been confused by the many reads but no reviews. The deleted review just banged on about dinosaurs not being found in deserts etc. He/she obviously didn't understand the nature of this 'homage' to the late great Douglas Adams. Please let me know what you think of the next two parts of the story.