Ohio's on Fire

By the time Austin had made it back on the road again, he’d already downed an eighth of one of the bottles of gin he’d bought, along with a can of Monster as a chaser. Ridiculous thoughts of flesh-eating monsters and an army of the undead were still circling his brain like some sort of sick carousel ride. The alcohol, he hoped, would help drown them out. A few minutes and miles went by but Austin still couldn’t shake the words ringing in his ears.

There will come a day when there’s no more room left in Hell.

Fighting to keep the images and words out of his head at all costs now, Austin swore loudly and took another long drink from his bottle of gin. With twice as much force than was necessary, he punched the power button on the radio and turned the volume all the way up. If his bottle of Tanqueray couldn’t get the job done, music sure as hell could.

It’s the end of the world as we know it…

The familiar tune filled the entire length of the bus at a near deafening volume. With a loud gasp at the popular R.E.M. song’s lyrics, Austin switched stations immediately. The radio had done nothing to upset him personally, but he attacked its buttons as if it had.

See the sunlight, we ain’t stopping, keep on dancing till the world ends…

Now God was just fucking with him.

“Not you too, Britney!” This time Austin pulled the bus all the way off to the side of the expressway and punched the power button again to turn it off. He stayed quiet for several moments, his chest heaving and heart racing a mile a minute. His knuckles had become white from gripping the steering wheel so hard and he felt as if he might break it if he didn’t let go. After drawing and releasing a good three long breaths, he looked up and flipped open the visor mirror. His vision had started to blur again and he rubbed at his eyes with both fists before he could focus on his reflection. Even that didn’t help much.

God he needed sleep, he thought. The bags under his eyes were getting worse and he couldn’t tell if the redness around his brown irises was from the booze or sleep deprivation. Truth be told he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had a good night’s sleep. That was his problem right there. He’d been awake too long and paranoia was getting the better of him. “Ugh,” he groaned and pulled a stern face at himself. Shaking his head, he started up the engine of the bus again. “Snap out of it, Carlile. Everything’s fine.”

The returned movements of the bus made Austin’s stomach jostle uncomfortably and after a few minutes and he reached down blindly for his bag of Doritos, hoping they could aid in settling it. Biting his tongue in concentration, he waved his right hand down beside him while keeping his eyes on the road and his left hand on the wheel. After spending far too much time than necessary searching blind only to come up empty handed, he stole a quick glance down then flicked his eyes right back up to the road again.

Unfortunately for Austin, the gin was starting to catch up with him, and the quick movement of his head unleashed a wave of nausea and dizziness. Clapping a hand to his forehead he felt a thin sheen of sweat and groaned aloud. Deciding that having cold air on him immediately was temporarily more important than the Doritos, he abandoned his food search and set out instead for the air-conditioning controls. Sighing with relief upon being blasted in the face with ice cold air moments later, he sat back in his seat feeling more relaxed, yet still wanting his bag of chips.

If memory served him right, he had to reach a little more to the right and farther up this time. He moved slowly, leaning over ever so slightly until his fingers grazed the top of the bag. Grinning in triumph, he leaned over more to grab it, unknowingly turning the wheel of the bus with him.

The horns of at least three vehicles around him startled Austin into an immediate upright position. He hadn’t drifted that far over, but enough to earn him a few inaudible shouts and rude hand gestures from the man in the tiny blue Ford Escort beside him. Careful not to overcorrect, he turned the wheel back into position gently and attempted an apologetic face at the man, who had already begun to accelerate as far ahead of him as the traffic would allow.

With a remorseful grimace, Austin eased up on the accelerator and being extra sure he had plenty of space, moved into the farthest lane to the right. Going slower would be better for his more than slightly drunken state, and would help his heart obtain a regular beat as well.

Several hundred yards ahead of the tour bus, a portly semi-truck driver was stifling a yawn and rumbling along on the last leg of his weekly route to Sandusky from Louisville. His thoughts were miles away, at home with his wife and what dinner she was most likely preparing for his return that night. Pot roast, he hoped, or maybe a big juicy steak with extra onions and mushrooms. Worrying less and less about the road before him, he started imagining side dishes as well. Not that he’d ever dare to, but driving his exceedingly boring route could have been done in his sleep, and he was confident enough in his driving abilities to believe that.

Minutes went by and a familiar tune came on the radio, pulling him from his thoughts of roasted carrots and red potatoes. Smiling at the memories the Rolling Stones song brought, he reached for the volume dial to turn it up.

Oh, a storm is threat'ning
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away

War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away
War, children, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away

Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way

While the man sang along with the radio, remembering every word from his younger days, he failed to notice the cars in front of him swerving immediately into the outer lanes. Horns blared, tires squealed, and the trucker’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of a single man standing in the center lane, a mere hundred yards away from his truck. Doing what his instincts told him, he slammed on his breaks and yanked the steering wheel to the left.

The following events would go on to be described as utter chaos. The truck, which was actually a gas tanker carrying approximately nine thousand gallons of gasoline, jackknifed almost instantly at the driver’s attempt to swerve into the left lane. Within seconds it was on its side and spilling gasoline all over the road. Unable to avoid the collision, a blue Ford Escort was the first to slam into the newly exposed underbelly of the truck, followed almost immediately by a silver Dodge minivan. Then came the fire. Both engines sparked upon impact and ignited an inferno that could be seen for miles, the second vehicle was even thrown several yards and on its side when the heat caused its engine to explode.

Like a domino effect, vehicles of all sizes came screeching to a halt, causing crash upon crash, one right after the other. Trucks plowed over sedans, vans flipped on top of each other, and two motorcyclists were sent sailing from their bikes to land in sickening heaps on and at the side of the road.

It was the most sobering scene for anyone to witness, especially for Austin Carlile. In that one moment he felt as if his heart had come to a sudden screeching halt. His brain failed to function properly as well and then instinct took over. The next few minutes seemed to pass in slow motion. He saw his white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, his foot stomping on the break, and then the horrifying realization that his bus was about to tip over set in. The wheels couldn’t handle the curve Austin put the bus into and it was far too late to try to correct them.

When Austin later found himself sprawled across the large door of the bus—and very much still alive—it took him several more minutes to break down what had happened. Like an idiot, he’d forgotten to use his seatbelt, which resulted in him being thrown from his seat when the bus tipped on its right side. From what he could tell nothing was broken, just probably a bit bruised up. As he carefully rolled onto his back he heard the faint chink of broken glass and metal from inside his pocket and groaned aloud. He’d broken his phone. He was only now starting to realize the gravity of his situation as he pushed himself to an upright position. Everything had happened so fast. He rubbed at a spot on his head as he tried to remember what had caused this but came up with nothing but images of the overturned semi and the fire.

Since he had crashed his bus in the roadside ditch, there was definitely going to be no chance of exiting through the door. An idea suddenly occurred to him and he looked up wondering if the driver window could slide open wide enough for him to fit through. Only one way to find out.

It took him a little longer and a lot more effort than he’d hoped, but it wasn’t too long before Austin was able to finally haul himself out the window and onto the side of the bus. From where he sat, he could clearly see the enormous fire still raging and to make things worse, hear the screams from panicked drivers. He almost couldn’t believe what happened and what was still happening before his eyes. People were dying before his very eyes. Innocent people. What had they done to deserve this? Austin suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He hadn’t been the cause of this wreck but he very well could have been with how much he’d been drinking.

Austin couldn’t fight the bile rising in his throat and with one gigantic heave from his stomach; he threw up over the side of the bus. Tears pricked at his eyes as he heard the screams beginning to fade. No, he couldn’t just sit by and watch this happen. He had to do something. Forcing himself onto his feet, he hurried to the front of the bus and haphazardly climbed down into the tall grassy ditch. It wasn’t until he’d stumbled into the wreckage that he wished he’d just stayed in the bus.