On the evening of November 21st, in the year 2020, a prison bus drove, quietly down a dusty, solitary road. It belonged to the Wellhurst Maximum Security Prison, outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. On the bus, were two guards, a pastor, a driver, and three criminals sentenced to prison; life for all of them. Each man was convicted of multiple murders, and vicious acts against their fellow human. The man who sat in front of the bus, was named Stanley Veckons. He brutally raped and murdered five women before being caught and convicted. Each woman he "stayed" with had been sliced open at the stomach, and had their reproductive organs removed with surgical precision. Three seats behind Stanley, sat William Finch, a man convicted for the murder of two families who each owned smaller casinos. William had held a grudge against the two families because they "forced" him to spend his entire life savings. So he killed the children of each family in front of their bound parents and then shot the parents one-by-one, in the back of their heads.

    In the furthest seat back, may have been the most heinous of the three in the eyes of the state. A man by the name of Michael Greer. Greer had been sentenced to eight consecutive life sentences, and a strong recommendation for solitary confinement for the first. Michael had been convicted for over a hundred murders, twenty of which were in the state of Nevada alone. It was known that Michael had had a history with the Marines and served six years in special operations. The man was in all accounts, a killing machine. He himself was a lethal weapon. He used his skills from the military to maim and kill person after person, all of whom were, for the most part, unrelated. These people ranged from politicians, to businessman, and bartenders to city workers. Even fellow soldiers were targetted. Michael being so dangerous, received special treatment during transport, as he was bound from head to toe. His body was nearly, totally secure. He could only move his neck, toes, and fingers. He sat, patiently awaiting his arrival to Wellhurst with a grim look upon his face.

    The pastor, who had been spending the past thirty minutes polishing his gold watch, slowly arose from his seat and walked his way back to Michael. He was very interested in this particular inmate. A man who seemed to not have a soul could surely use saving! He approached Michael, and sat in the seat directly in front of him. He cleared his throat, "So, Michael, they tell me you lack any form of a soul." Michael stared blankly into the pastor's eyes. "The news aired several exposés about 'The Killer with no Motive' ever since you were apprehended. The way you held yourself in court; so cold, so unapologetic. You feel no remorse for your actions, don't you? Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. I am Reginald Pickens. An odd name, I know, but my friends and family call me Reggie. I'm a pastor with our church, St. Mary's Baptist Church of Las Vegas. Now I know Vegas is Sin City as they call it but I do like to have hope and faith in the community." Michael continued staring, "Right, well, I'll keep this short and sweet then. I was wondering if you had accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior. The lord almighty knows that you of all people could use some form of repentance." The pastor chuckled, and realized that Michael had not stopped staring into his eyes, without a word. "Now, son, I know your current predicament could lead you to believe that God does not love all of his children, but I assure you, with enough prayers and penance, even you could become saved in the eyes of the lord. It may not seem very appealing given the circumstances, you'll still be spending the remainder of your life in prison. But at least you'd have a chance to not burn in eternal damnation for all eternity."

    Michael stared for just a moment more, and then shifted slightly to loosen his muscles a bit. He leaned in as much as his restraints would allow and spoke quietly, "Pastor," He winced. It was obvious Michael was uncomfortable, "Whatever Christ you may believe in, has no room in heaven for the likes of me." He exhaled sharply. "If there is a God, he has surely damned this world, and me along with it."

    Pastor Reggie was startled by Michael's comment. "Now see here son, the world is a mess. For the lord to allow the likes of you and other murderers and miscreants is an atrocity to mankind, but-"

    "Atrocity?" Michael interrupted. He stretched as far as he could and brought his face so close to the pastor that Reggie nervously shifted back to avoid any physical contact. "You speak of atrocities as if they are some foreign thing to you." His voice became low, and soft, "But I can tell you with a certainty, that I could smell the corruption emanating from your being the moment you set foot on this bus." The Pastor's anxious smile quickly turned into a solemn grimace. "You preach nothing but hypocrisy, as you pilfer the meager donations given to your church for your own selfish greed. Tell me, what does your wife think of your exorbitant spending on the night prowlers of the city? It matters not how you live your life, though, because once this world is gone, no amount of wealth or possessions will make any difference. So save your breath, preacher, because I refuse to bow down to a God that allows such "atrocities" to exist in this world. I have my own reasons for the things I have done, and I have no need to ask for forgiveness. This world is full of corrupt, vile people who take advantage of the weak, and prey on the innocent. The day that I am no longer for this world, pastor, I will greet with open arms. Tell me, can you say the same?"

    The pastor quickly stood up from the seat, a look of horror on his face, and wiped his sweaty forehead and brushed back his hair. He then swiftly walked his way back up to the front. He stumbled as the prisoner Stanley put out his foot in an attempt to trip the pastor.

    A guard then quickly raised his gun to Stanley, "Knock off the shit Veckons, or your next stop off this bus will be the goddamn morgue!"

"Woah, easy, Officer Overdrive! My leg twitched. I didn't hurt nobody!" Stanley replied.

As the pastor made it into his seat, he turned to the armed guard stationed behind the bus driver and said, "Keep that man as far away from me as possible." He was clearly nervous and seemingly out of breath.

    The guard chuckled quietly, "No need to worry, pastor, Stanley won't lay a hand on you as long as I've got something to say about it."

    "Stanley?!" The pastor's lip quivered. "I'm talking about the monster at the back of the bus... there is no saving a man like him."

    The guard looked towards Michael, "Oh, sorry, don't worry pastor. That prisoner won't be moving an inch without our say-so."

    "How long until we make it to the prison?" The pastor asked.

    The driver then answered, "Wellhurst is almost a two hour drive outside of Vegas, when you're in a hunk of junk bus like this one, pastor. We're about thirty minutes away."

    "The sooner I get off this god forsaken transport, the better." The pastor felt extremely uneasy, and nervously looked back at Michael, who had not taken his eyes off him since he walked up.

    Fifteen more minutes passed as the remainder of the bus ride quieted down. The pastor continuously wiped beads of sweat from his brow as he seemingly grew warmer and warmer. The two guards had not taken notice of this as they continued to scan their eyes up and down the aisle of seats. The bus shook and clattered as it sped down the rural, dirt road.

    Just then, an eerie screech invaded the ears of nearly all the passengers aboard the bus and each person cringed and clenched their teeth as the buzz grew louder in their minds. Michael shook as the sound tore into his ears, and looked around to see that all but the bus driver were affected by the noise. A faint voice echoed within the piercing noise "et mortui resurgent"

    In an instant, Michael blinked and the driver was gone, vanished into thin air and the noise stopped a second after. The guards immediately gathered their bearings but failed to realize what had happened in time. The bus swerved off the trail and began shaking erratically. One of the guards tried jumping in to the driver's seat but as he moved, the bus threw him into the door and he flew out onto the ground like a ragdoll. The second guard only clung to the frontmost seat in a desperate attempt to survive the impending catastrophe. Pastor Reggie instinctively went into a fetal position and began screaming for his life.

    Time seemed to slow as Michael looked to the two other prisoners. They all had no choice but to ride out the collision and hope they survived. Through the dust and haze, the bus sped towards a large boulder and the front right wheel made contact as the bus was lifted into the air in a corkscrew motion. Before it hit the ground, the bus had spun upside down and sideways. It then rolled several times before making broadside contact with another boulder and stopping abruptly. The remaining guard was thrown out of one of the side windows and was killed instantly as he made contact with the ground, head first. Luckily for the pastor, he was wedged tightly enough between the seats so as to not be thrown about. Unluckily for him though, one of the prisoners, Stanley, was broken free from his floor restraints in the turmoil and was already dusting himself off as he grabbed one of the guards' shotguns from the floor of the bus. Stanley was grinning wickedly as he waved the firearm towards the pastor.

    "Oh howdy, preacher!" Stanley yelled. "What's a nice, spiritual fella like yerself doin' on a bus full of degenerates such as the likes of us!?" He laughed as he played with the shotgun a bit.

    Reggie quivered as the barrel of the gun was pressed firmly against his cheek. Stanley's eyes widened with bewilderment as he turned his attention towards his fellow, inmates. "Y'all still breathin' back there?" He asked as he began walking towards the back. William had been knocked unconsious by the wreck and began to stir awake. Michael however, was not affected by the collision due to being strapped and locked in place. He only nodded slowly to Stanley. Stanley made it back to William first and began to wake him up. He then stood up and pointed the gun towards William and pulled the trigger.

    "Jesus Christ!" Reggie yelped.

   Stanley had aimed at the chains holding William down and broke him free as well. "Ooh!" Stanley exclaimed. "Slugs! I love slugs. They'll put a nice ol' hole in just about anything!"

    Stanley then turned to Michael and inspected his bindings and chains. "Damn, son... what the hell did you do to get the special treatment?"

    William then spoke up. "Probably ate someone's kids or something like that..."

    "Their kids? Naw..." Stanley wiped the sweat from around his mouth. "So, what was it, man? You eat somebody's babies?!" He laughed at the thought. It was apparent that Stanley was the most unstable of the three prisoners. "You hold tight there, you sick freak. I'mma find the keys to get you out of that heavy-duty shit. And you-" Stanley then looked at William. "Make sure the preacher man don't go nowhere."

    Stanley then went out of the bus and ran back to the place that the second guard had been ejected from the vehicle. Michael calmly looked around and shuffled his body to loosen his muscles a bit. He stayed quiet and breathed slowly, just waiting for his freedom.

    Stanley came back within ten minutes, dangling keys as he re-entered the bus. "Looky looky! I got myself a set of keys!" He then hurried to Michael and began unlocking all his restraints. First Michael's feet, which had two locked chains around them. Then his waist, which was firmly secured to the seat he sat in. Finally, the chains and cuffs around his wrists were set loose. He then stood up and stretched his body.

    "Well?" Stanley blurted. "Don't it feel real good being free?"

    Michael finished stretching and cracked his knuckles. "Yeah." He answered. "It feels pretty good." Just then, as Stanley turned and began walking to the front of the bus, Michael immediately reached out and snapped his neck without hesitation. Stanley's body fell to the floor of the bus with a thud and Michael snatched the shotgun from him before it had a chance to fall. He then lifted the gun and aimed at William from across the bus. William had kept his eyes on the pastor up until this point, and now was looking Michael in the eye. Fear did not show in William's face. He was another sociopath who felt no remorse for his actions, and felt no fear from death.

    A small grin formed on William's face as he slowly held his hands up. "What... You gonna shoot me?" He asked as he crept forward. "You think you could do that? You'd be doing me a favor, man. I got a lot of demons up in here." He pointed at his temple. "No matter what happens here, I'm already at peace with what I am. Are you? My soul, if I even have one, is damned for all eternity. That's fine by me. But what happens to you after this?"

    Michael pumped the action of the shotgun and smiled, "Finishing what I started." and fired.

    The slug blew William back off his feet and he hit the ground, dead. Blood pooled around his body. Michael now walked up to the seat that pastor Reggie sat in. He looked at him as he trembled in what looked like piss-soaked pants. "You're pathetic. You know that now, don't you? Unless you repent soon... You will go to Hell. You are corrupt, pastor, but it's not enough for me to kill you. No, consider yourself lucky you aren't truly evil like these two. Keep that in mind. I'll be seeing you around." He then knocked the pastor unconscious with the butt of his shotgun and exited the bus.

    The dust and wind had settled down from earlier and Michael could see the road from where he stood. The bus had travelled a good seventy-five yards from the road before it had stopped. "How fast were we going?" Michael asked himself. He could also see one of the guards from where he was and ran over to his body to collect anything useful. As he approached, he realized something. He was still wearing prison attire. "Dammit," He said. "Let's hope you and I are the same size."

    Michael quickly swapped clothes with the guard and took his spare shotgun ammo. He didn't like the idea of wearing a dead man's attire, but it was a better option than being immediately exposed as an escaped convict.

    He then started his way down the road the bus had been travelling. Soon though, the wind picked back up and sand and dust soon lowered visibility significantly. "At least it's late in the evening. Otherwise the heat would be a killer."

   As the dust stirred in the air, Michael heard a faint groan coming from up the trail. He cautiously made his way to the source of the noise to find the first guard that was thrown out of the bus. He was lying on his stomach; arms and legs mangled by the ejection. Michael knelt down to the guard and gently rolled him onto his back. The guard was wheezing with feeble attempts to breathe.

    "So..." he spoke slow and laboriously. "The convicts... escape. And I... get to... die." He began to cough. "I get to die... alone. On this FUCKING... dirt road!" Every word struggled to escape the man's mouth between every wheezing breath.

    "You're not alone." Michael carefully took the guard's least injured hand in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you."

    "Where are... your buddies?"

    Michael's face grew stern. "They're dead. I killed them. People like that, if they can be considered people, don't deserve to walk this earth."

    The guard looked confused. "What? You're... a murderer... shouldn't you be... dead along with them?"

    "It's possible I do deserve their fate as well. But until that day comes, I have work to do."

    The guard started coughing again. This time, blood came out. It was apparent one or both of his lungs had been punctured by broken ribs. "Ugh. Shit... did you... did the pastor survive?"

    "Yes. He's alive for now."

    "That's... good..." The guard then reached for his shirt pocket, "Do me a... favor, will ya? I don't... I don't know why I would... trust- fuck!.. trust a convicted murderer... but... please... t-tell m-my kid..."

    The guard went silent as his last breath left his body. In his hand, he held a wallet-sized photo of a young boy with the guard standing behind him. The two were smiling widely and holding party favors. On the back was written, Derrick, 6, you're growing up so fast buddy!

   "I'm truly sorry this happened."Michael took the picture and arranged the guard's body as respectful as he could. "No time for a burial, this is the best I can do right now." With that done, he continued up the road as dusk began to fall. He looked back to the lifeless man, "I hope someday you can forgive me."

    Michael walked for over an hour in the sand and dust. And could tell he was not much closer to his destination. Out of nowhere, a sound then resonated from the distance. A high-pitched howl filled Michael's ears. "What in the Hell was that?!" He said to himself. He lifted his gun out of caution, but nothing came. "Last thing I need is a pack of rabid dogs."

    Michael then came across a dilapidated gas station. The air was quiet again and the howling had not persisted. There was a pair of cars parked in front of the building, but there seemed to be no activity within. Michael then entered the gas station to find that it was, in fact, empty. "Hello?" He called out. No answer. He looked in the restrooms and behind the counters but no one was there. The gas station was old and in disrepair, but it was recently occupied. A television in the back corner was still on, playing a news broadcast, and there wasn't a significant amount of dust within the building.

   Michael wondered where everyone could've gone for a moment, but his level of hydration, or rather dehydration prodded his mind. He then laid his gun on the front counter and grabbed himself a couple of cold bottles of water. The dusty desert air had definitely left Michael more than a little parched. As he chugged the first bottle, Michael heard a loud scratching noise come from outside. As if something was scraping the outer walls of the building. He quickly placed the cap on the bottle and grabbed the gun as he crept outside.

    It was dark now, and the dusty winds had dissipated while stars shone bright in the clear, dark sky. He inspected the perimeter of the shop, but failed to find anything. As he turned back to go inside the store, there was a loud clatter from inside. He swiftly returned indoors, looking for any sign of life, and was knocked off his feet by a large animal that lunged itself into his body.

    A bloody snarl invaded Michael's mind. He frantically gazed to see a giant, dog-like creature staring at him with glowing, fiery eyes. It had no fur, only bare flesh and muscle, with its ribcage poking out from beneath its hide. Blood dripped from the creature's mouth as it showed its shark-like rows of razor teeth.

    "What the fuck are you?!" Michael yelled. The beast slowly crept towards Michael, and came face to face with him. For some reason, he was unable to move his body, he was petrified as the monster's putrid breath dominated his senses. Michael's vision soon blurred and the echoes of cries of agony erupted out of thin air. He was dazed and