Freakish Accident (part2)

Kyle's mind processed her words like data. Prediction. Confirmation. Event trajectory.

He stared down the narrow aisle of the bus. The students were still laughing. The driver hummed to himself. Trees thickened outside as the road curved into denser woods.

"Maya," he said quietly. "How long before it happens?"

"I don't know exactly," she whispered. "Ten minutes? Fifteen?"

He swallowed.

Panic wasn't useful. He needed options. Fast.

Pulling the emergency brake was dramatic—but dangerous. If he was wrong, they could get hurt anyway. Telling the driver might backfire. They'd laugh. Dismiss him.

But if Maya was right… and he did nothing…

Kyle clenched his fists.

His heart beat faster. Not from fear. From focus.

There had to be a way to change this.

"Maya," he said, turning to her. "If you saw the future—can it be changed?"

"I don't know, i have tried a few times, but everytime i tried, my visions still came to past. It was as if it was destined." she said softly. "But, no one's ever believed me before."

He looked ahead. A sharp bend was coming up. The shoulder looked narrow. Wet.

He stood.

"Stay here" he told her.

Then he walked straight down the aisle.

The driver, Mr. Jenkins, was in his fifties. Wore thick glasses. Listened to classic rock. Didn't like distractions.

Kyle stepped beside him and leaned close.

"Mr. Jenkins," he said quietly. "You need to slow down."

"What?"

"Just trust me. Please. There's danger ahead. I know it sounds crazy, but I need you to slow down the bus. Right now."

The driver laughed awkwardly. "You feeling alright, son?"

Kyle leaned in closer. His eyes were ice-cold. His voice low and steady.

"If you don't slow down now, you're going to crash. People will get hurt. Please."

Something in his tone must've landed. The driver's eyes flicked to the mirror. Then to Kyle's expression.

He slowed. Gradually.

Maya, watching from her seat, gripped the edge of the window.

As the bus rounded the next bend, the wheels dipped into soft mud on the shoulder. The bus tilted slightly—but with the speed reduced, it straightened without issue.

Kyle felt it in his bones: this was the moment.

If they'd been going faster…

The students didn't even notice.

The danger passed like a ghost.

For a few blissful minutes, Kyle believed they had cheated fate.

The bus rolled on through the forest, its tires crunching gravel and pine needles, every bump swallowed by the thick suspension. Mr. Jenkins had resumed humming after giving Kyle a look that said. "Are you retarrdddded?!!" Maya leaned back in her seat, gaze distant. Outside, the woods thickened—green walls pressing in like silent watchers.

Kyle's muscles slowly unclenched. His brain, ever active, had already begun categorizing this outcome: future sight confirmed, intervention possible, probabilities altered. He glanced sideways at Maya. She hadn't spoken again, hadn't moved.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe they'd won.

The sound was subtle at first. A low whine, somewhere near the front axle. Then a louder pop! Like a tire blowing out.

The bus jerked.

Students screamed.

Metal groaned, and the vehicle swerved violently to the right. Someone hit the window. Glass cracked. Mr. Jenkins shouted something—his voice lost in the rising shriek of brakes.

But the brakes didn't hold.

The bus was sliding—no traction, no control. It tilted hard to the side, slammed through a wooden barrier, and dropped.

Along with other useless school informations Kyle had memorized. He remembered the procedure to protect yourself in a crash.

( IMMEDIATE STEPS IF A CRASH IS HAPPENING. (You can skip this)

1. Brace for Impact (Protect Your Head and Neck)

If you're seated:

Lean forward quickly, placing your head down toward your knees if possible.

Put your hands behind your head or wrap your arms around your head and neck.Tuck in your elbows and press your legs together.

Plant your feet flat on the floor, slightly behind your knees to avoid sliding forward.

If you're standing:

Grab a pole or seat tightly with both hands.

Bend your knees to absorb shock.

If you can't hold on, crouch down and protect your head.

2. Stay Low & Away from Windows (if you can)

Glass shatters during impact. If you're seated next to a window, turn your face away and cover it.

3. Avoid Being Thrown

Try to wedge your body into the seat or against a wall to prevent being launched.

If there's time, wrap your arms around a seat frame or handlebar.)

Quickly bracing himself and following the procedure, he listened as air turned to noise. Leaves blurred past the windows. A student near the back flew upward, limbs flailing. Kyle's mind counted seconds. One. Two. Three—

Impact.

Darkness.

Total, swallowing black. Kyle floated in it, mind adrift, disconnected from his body.

He thought he heard his name once—Maya's voice, thin and far away.

Then: silence.

Pain came first—sharp, blooming behind his eyes. Then the stench of gasoline and crushed bark. Kyle's senses blinked on like faulty lights.

He was on his side, pressed against what used to be a seat. Something warm trickled down his cheek. Blood? Maybe. His legs were trapped under twisted metal. Sparks hissed from a nearby console. He pushed himself upright, teeth gritted.

The crash had transformed the bus into a skeletal ruin. Windows shattered. Seats thrown from their bolts. One wheel had detached entirely and lay half-buried in moss. From the way inside looked there were a few casualties. If there were lucky only a few people would be heavily injured.

Outside, the forest loomed—dense, primal, humming with distant howls.

And there, not ten feet from the crushed driver's side, was a bear.

Dead.

Huge.

Its body was grotesquely shriveled, as if someone had drained it of blood and air. Its eyes were open, cloudy. Its fur matted. Its massive chest barely rose or fell.

Kyle froze.

The bear hadn't died from the crash. It hadn't even been hit. Something had happened to it.

Something unnatural.

Kyle coughed hard, then forced his legs free, stumbling toward the nearest standing figure—Maya.

She stood completely untouched. Not a scratch. Her hoodie was clean. Her face, however, was another story.

She wasn't crying. She wasn't breathing hard.

She looked horrified.

As if she'd seen something worse than the crash.

Her arms hung stiff at her sides. Her mouth was slightly open. Her eyes were locked not on Kyle, but on the corpse of the bear.

"Maya," he croaked. "Are you hurt?"

She didn't move.

"Maya."

Still no answer. Just that look—like someone who had seen the devil walk past.

Kyle's stomach twisted. He didn't believe in ghosts. He didn't believe in monsters.

But Maya's expression made him want to.

A low rumble shook the air. Not thunder. Not an engine.

A growl.

Kyle turned, heartbeat spiking. Branches snapped. A shadow shifted through the trees.

Then it emerged.

A grizzly bear. Twice the size of the dead one. Its fur was darker, almost black. Its teeth were bared, lips curled back in a bloody snarl. One eye was scarred white, and its front paw dragged slightly—an old wound, maybe, or worse.

It had been drawn by the crash.

Or by something else.

The bear stepped forward, sniffing the air. Its gaze flicked between Kyle, the bus, and the body of the dead bear.

Then it snarled—louder this time. A primal, hate-filled sound.

Kyle's brain exploded with options, each one playing out like a simulation.

Run: It would catch them in ten seconds.

Hide: Nowhere to go.

Climb: No nearby trees thick enough.

Fight: Impossible. He'd die.

Distract it and run: Might work—but Maya wouldn't make it.

All scenarios led to death. However if Kyle could see the future like Maya, he would have laughed in the face of the bear.