School Bus

This story is by Gary Little and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Permanently locked at 14 degrees above the horizon, the pale blue marble watched the yellow school bus bounce its way along the northernmost school route of North Fork, Luna 90210.

Joe Strickland dodged a massive hummock of Lunar basalt, pulled back hard on the right lateral, and pushed hard on the left to avoid another offending hummock.

Ahead, a green light flashed for his first stop. He pulled hard on both columns to kill the electrics in all the trucks and feathered the brakes to keep the massive vehicle from skidding in the Lunar dust. He watched the starboard side monitor as three tiny figures grabbed backpacks and clambered up the stairs into the airlock. Ben, the adult, stayed behind, secured the outer door, and waved all clear to Joe.

“Remember the sequence?” Joe said to the three kids in the airlock.

“Yes, Mr. Strickland,” came a reply from Jessie, the oldest, who repeated the mantra: “Hit purge. Pressure up. Open the door.”

Joe watched, released the safety, the airlock opened, and three schoolkids tumbled into the cabin. Joe waved to Ben and said, “Gott’m all. Thanks.”

“I’ll see you after school,” Ben said, returning to his digs.

Preparing to get underway, Joe heard, “Pepper, no …” followed by a touch on his right arm. He noticed a brilliant orange figure by his side.

“See, Mr. S’klan. “ Her helmet retracted into the collar of her P-suit, six-year-old Pepper stood modeling her first official pressure suit. “An’ if you touch this …”

Joe gently grabbed Pepper’s hand and said, “No, Pepper, what’s the rule?”

By now, an exasperated older brother had arrived, about to read the riot act to his younger sister, but Joe motioned Jessie to be quiet.

“Oh … “ a six-year-old face screwed up in thought, replaced by a look of utter degradation … eye-lids wrinkling to release tears, “never leave your seat?“

“Yup, that’s right, and it’s very good you remember that, but what about the P-suit rules?”

“Oh … wait for the bus driver to say you can open your helmet?”

“That’s right, too. Now, that is a mighty fine pressure suit. Maybe one of the best I ever did see.” Joe motioned for Pepper to turn around as his practiced eye evaluated the suit. “Close your helmet now and go sit with your brothers. Ok?”

“Ok,” said those big brown eyes, and the tiny figure turned and headed back to where her middle brother sat.

Joe motioned to Jessie to stay a moment and said, “She checked out for extra vehicular activity?”

“Yes, sir, but she’s only six.”

“And Luna …”

“I know. Luna don’t respect age. Luna don’t give seconds. Pepper did real well in the classes. I got distracted when Willem dropped his kit.”

Joe grabbed the young man’s shoulder. “I saw. You did well, and Pepper just got away from you. Have a seat. We’ve got six more stops.”

He checked the displays and saw an indicator for a poorly connected passenger harness. “Willem, check your harness.” Through the monitors, he saw Pepper stick her tongue out at her middle brother, who fumbled for his harness as it clicked into place, and the warning light went out.

Joe released the brakes, and the rollagon started forward.

Pepper: “I tol’ ya,” with tongue.

Willem: “Did not.”

Pepper: “Did so,” with more tongue.

Joe started to say something, but Jessie said, “Get off the freq, you two. You know that’s for Mr. Strickland. Pop’ll have your hide if he finds out you interfered with the bus driver on the first day of school!”

Joe heard two clicks and then silence.

As he approached his last stop, he whispered, “That’s Susan. Where’s Mandy?” Luna had several rules because Luna was utterly unforgiving. With rare exceptions, no one went on the surface alone. The buddy system was by law. Children were never permitted outside alone without being accompanied by someone with a Level 5 EVA certificate. Never.

He stopped, stood, and walked the aisle to the airlock. On the way, he motioned to Jessie and Beth, the two oldest and most reliable on the bus. They were also the only two with solo EVA certificates. In a pinch, either could drive the bus.

“I’m going off bus.”

“Problem?” Beth asked.

As Joe turned to the airlock, Jessie whispered, “No adult with Susan.” Joe cycled the airlock, clicked to another frequency, and said, “Susan? Are things alright?”

“Mr. Strickland … Momma won’t wake up.”

“Jessie, get on the E-Com. You know where we are?” Strickland said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell’m Joe Strickland is on scene and evaluating.”

As he stepped into the rollagon’s airlock, Joe saw Beth was in the back, breaking out the Emergency Gear and telling the young ones what to do to help. 

Lunie kids. Good kids. The lock closed, and he cycled it.

Susan had the domicile airlock open and waiting for him.

“Where’s your Mom, Susan?”

“On the floor,” a little quiver in the voice, but a child’s matter-of-factness.

Joe knelt before Susan and looked her in the face. The tear streaks on her face told him a lot.

“When did you wake up?”

“When the ringer went off.”

Ringer. The signal announcing the School Bus. It was designed to get one’s attention.

“Did you close your helmet?”

“It was closed when I woke up.” Joe stood and took Susan’s hand as the airlock cycle finished and the inner door opened.

The environmental alarms in Joe’s suit went off as soon as he stepped into Mandy and Susan’s habitat. CO2 was elevated, and O2 was way down, almost not there.

Joe saw the still form on the floor, stepped to it, and touched the left shoulder with the palm of his right hand. He ordered her helmet to close and then purged it with pure O2. Older P-suits had problems detecting CO2 levels, and Mandy’s suit was older.

Joe switched to the bus frequency. “Beth, tell the EMTs it’s CO2 poisoning. I have her on pure O2. Have they given you an ETA?”

“Yes, ninety minutes. They had already rolled on another case.”

Dammit, he thought. I hate to do this with the kids on board.

“Ok. Beth, tell them I am transporting. My ETA is 08:15. Jessie, please operate the bus airlock. Susan and I are bringing her Mom out.”

Joe rolled the still form into the classic fireman’s carry, grabbed Susan’s hand, and turned to the exit.

“Susan, are you ready? I’m going to emergency-blow the lock. Susan?” He turned to look at Susan and saw her vigorously nodding her head inside her helmet. “Sweetie, no one can hear your head rattle in space.”

“Oh …” His comment got a sheepish grin as Susan whispered, “Ok, Mr. Strickland. I’m ready.”

“Beth…” and he realized Beth was in the lock. “Thanks.”

The School Bus airlock opened, and Beth stepped out. Joe, carrying Mandy, stepped in as Beth grabbed Susan’s hand. The airlock cycled, and Joe fairly flew down the aisle to the back of the bus.

“Jessie, I will be busy here for a while. Can you get us started back to town?”

“Yes, sir,” Jessie said, moving into the driver’s seat.

Damn, damn, damn … Joe ran an RFID scanner over Mandy’s still form and breathed a sigh of relief. Mark V. Great!

He connected an interface pad to the connector on her left shoulder and used the controller to tell her P-Suit to begin CPR. He watched her chest rise and fall. The suit was breathing for her. He connected external O2 and increased the pressure in her helmet. Not much, just higher than normal Lunar dome pressure. The last connection was to the external monitor display, and he waited.

“Flatline! Damn it! Breathe, Mandy! God damn it, breathe!” The controller began flashing an Amber message: BEGIN EXTERNAL CHEST COMPRESSION.

He located Mandy’s breastbone, placed the palm of his right hand, laced the fingers of his left, and began CPR. The controller flashed green for him to compress and red when he had compressed hard enough. He got into the rhythm. Green. Compress. Red. Release.

He heard ribs cracking, but he saw the blood O2 levels start to rise, and the blue lips began to pinken.

Green. Compress. Red. Release.

“Jessie, where are we?”

“Just passing the maintenance bay. Three minutes out. I’m going to the school. E-Com said Doc Welby is waiting for us.”

“Three minutes? You speeding?”

Silence for a heartbeat, “Yes, sir.”

“You did good.”

Green. Compress. Red. Release.

“C’mon, Mandy, breathe, girl, breathe!”

Green. Compress. Red. Release. Time seemed to blur into green and red.

“Jessie, whe…” Joe was interrupted as he felt other hands replace his.

“I got her, Joe,” said Doc Welby.

Joe looked around. The kids were gone, off to class. Beth was with Susan, and Jessie still manned the bus controls. Joe noticed another familiar face, Tabatha “Tee” Carlson.

“Beth,” Tee asked, “what’s your first class?”

“PE.”

“If you don’t mind, can you stay with Susan? Have you had breakfast, Susan?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Why don’t you and Beth go to the cafeteria,” Tee continued.

“How’s my Mom?” Susan asked.

“She is going to be fine,” Doc said, helping a weak but conscious Mandy stand up.

No force in the universe could stop that “Mommy!” shriek as Susan flew into Mandy’s arms.