Page 12 of A Highland Gargoyle's Lucky Star
Other passengers scream, and I have no idea what to do other than try to stop us from crashing.
The problem is, the driver’s still slumped forward with his foot on the gas pedal.
“We’re all going to die!” someone shrieks.
“I knew I never should have come here,” someone else yells.
“Everyone, calm down,” Emily says. She then turns terror-filled eyes to me and murmurs, “What do we do?”
“How the hell should I know? I’m from America. Can you call 9-1-1 or something?” I briefly glance down at Tom, who isn’t looking too hot. “We need emergency medical help fast.”
Emily pales and pulls out a cell phone with shaking hands. “It’s 9-9-9 here. On it,” she says and places the call.
Meanwhile, I just keep turning the wheel so the bus makes awkward circles in the center of Piccadilly Circus’s semi-roundabout.
Is this because of my bad luck? I don’t know how to operate a British bus, and the fact that we’re driving on the opposite side of the road to what I’m used to is throwing me for a loop. I don’t have a clue what to do except keep turning the wheel in ridiculous circles.
“Stop the bus!” several people start yelling.
“I can’t right now!” I yell back. “The driver’s out cold with his foot on the gas.”
Emily pockets her cell phone and uses her microphone. “Everyone, calm down. Let me and…” She leans in and whispers, “What’s your name?”
“Noah,” I say, wincing as I see a car move out of our path only to get rear-ended by another. Thankfully, it didn’t sound too bad. At least, from what I can tell before we continue to move on in our dizzying circle.
“Noah and I are going to figure this out,” Emily assures everyone and then sets down her mic and moves even closer. “Do you have a plan?”
I’d give her my “bitch, please” face if I wasn’t currently busy because what the fuck? Does she think I do this kind of thing on a regular basis?
Honestly, if the situation weren’t quite so harrowing, I’d probably be laughing like a loon right about now.
“It’s like I’ve entered some kind of bizarre movie hellscape that’s a cross betweenSpeedandNational Lampoon’s European Vacation,” I say with a slightly hysterical laugh.
Where’s a sweaty but sexy Keanu Reeves when I need him?
“What the hell are you on about?” Emily asks, face pale and a bit gray.
“Sandra Bullock made this look so much easier and she was dealing with a bomb,” I mutter.
Unfortunately, I must not have done so as quietly as I thought because someone behind me gasps.
“Abomb?”
That sets off a chorus of screams and panicked yells.
“My neighbor told me it wasn’t safe in London. I never should have come!”
“Somebody, help us!”
“Hail Mary, full of grace…”
“Oh God! We’re going to die!”
Leaving the passengers to Emily, I work on keeping us from crashing. Vehicles are honking and getting out of our way, but I try not to pay too much attention to them and just focus on keeping the bus in the circle. If we continue looping around here, eventually we’ll either run out of gas or the police will arrive. Right?
I’m sweating and my adrenaline is pumping.
Emily takes a moment to calm the passengers once again, then comes back next to me. “What can I do to help?”
