“No, man,” Liam stammered, his voice cracking. “We’re done. We’re good. Please.”
Arthur didn't say a word. He looked down at Trent, who was beginning to moan, twitching in a pool of his own blood on the floor.
Arthur reached down with one hand, grabbed the collar of Trent’s heavy jacket, and effortlessly hoisted the 210-pound man off the floor as if he were carrying a bag of laundry. He dragged Trent the three feet to the open pneumatic doors.
With a simple, fluid heave, Arthur tossed the unconscious MMA fighter out of the bus. Trent’s heavy body tumbled down the short embankment, landing in a deep, freezing snowdrift on the side of the treacherous canyon road.
Arthur turned around. He looked at Cody, who was writhing on the floor, weeping in pain, clutching his destroyed knee.
“Can you walk?” Arthur asked. His voice was polite, quiet, and terrifying.
“My knee!” Cody screamed, tears streaming down his face. “You broke my knee!”
“Then crawl,” Arthur commanded.
Liam and Greg didn't wait for Arthur to move. Driven by pure terror, the two young men scrambled forward. They grabbed their massive, weeping friend by the armpits and frantically dragged him down the aisle, slipping in the melted snow and blood. They hauled Cody to the front of the bus and practically threw themselves out the open doors, tumbling out into the howling, freezing blizzard alongside their defeated leader.
They scrambled in the snow, trying to pull Trent and Cody away from the vehicle, staring up at the open door of the bus in absolute terror.
Arthur stood in the doorway for a moment, the freezing wind whipping his gray hair and the loose fabric of his shirt. He looked down at the four broken, shivering men in the snow. They were no longer apex predators. They were freezing, terrified boys who had finally encountered the harsh, unforgiving reality of a world they did not understand.
Arthur reached over to the dashboard. He pressed the button. The heavy pneumatic doors hissed loudly and folded shut, locking out the wind and sealing the men outside in the freezing storm.
Arthur calmly retrieved his aviator sunglasses from his shirt pocket, unfolded them, and placed them back on his face. He stepped over the small smear of blood on the floor, sat back down in the driver’s seat, and pulled his heavy seatbelt across his chest, clicking it into place.
He reached under his collar, pulling out a small, gray microfiber cloth, and carefully wiped a single drop of blood off the steering wheel.
He looked up into the panoramic rearview mirror. The passengers were staring at him. They were entirely silent, wide-eyed, completely frozen in a state of absolute shock and awe. Maya, the young girl who had been harassed, was covering her mouth with her hands, tears still on her cheeks, looking at Arthur as if he were a mythical creature that had just materialized from the snow.
Arthur met Maya’s eyes in the mirror for a fraction of a second. He gave her a single, polite nod.
He picked up the PA microphone one last time.
“I apologize for the delay, folks,” Arthur’s calm, gravelly voice echoed through the bus. “The roads are a bit hazardous tonight. Please make sure you are seated securely. Next stop, Heavenly Peaks Resort Lodge, approximately twelve minutes.”
Arthur Pendleton reached down, released the yellow air brake with a sharp POP, shifted the fifteen-ton vehicle back into drive, and steered the bus smoothly off the gravel turnout, pulling flawlessly back onto the icy, treacherous canyon road, disappearing into the heart of the howling blizzard.