The Prevost is the Cadillac of buses and RVs, and the investors, again, did not spare any expense when it came to customizing that one. The seats were all akin to being in a first class cabin of a jetliner, two per row, with the aisle in-between. The seats fully reclined and had a button to inflate the headrest to create your own personalized pillow.
There was even a flat console with retractable cup holders that gave adequate room between each pair of seats so there was no bumping of elbows. The back of the seat in front of each passenger had a recessed flat Insta-Screen with a USB drive for streaming devices. The entire seat back could fold down to create a work desk, with individualized adjustable LED lighting surrounding the work area’s periphery, so not as to disturb the passenger next to you.
Part of the reason for so much spacious comfort was that the unit was custom designed with only thirty-six seats. This unit had a bathroom that rivaled any high-end RV. There was even a small kitchenette with a stocked frig at the back with bottled water and soft drinks.
Tom was the last to board, as he was usually late. We crept out of the parking lot at 7:15 AM without Jude. Matt said he decided not to come at the last minute.
Fred and I were seated in the last row at the rear and were talking quietly while Cindy slept across the aisle from us with a blanket covering her. The sun’s rays were now peeking over the mountaintops. Most of the students had their side window curtains pulled down and were napping. A few were playing with their cell phones.
The Prevost was rolling down the main college road toward the palatial bricked entrance of ICC. We hadn’t even arrived at the entrance circle when Brother Francis slammed on the brakes, which jolted everyone from their seat. I thought maybe a deer jumped in front of the bus. Everyone was now wide awake.
Brother Francis turned in his driver seat and called to me, “Doc, you better come up here.”
I walked to the front of the bus as Brother Francis was apologizing for hitting the brakes so abruptly. “They just jumped out on the road in front of me, I could have killed them.”
I looked out the massive windshield to see two of Erik’s Blueshirts standing only a few feet in front of the bus, one with his hands on his hips and the other like a crossing guard with his arm and hand extended demanding us to stop.
There were bushes on both sides of the road in front of the bus that they apparently had jumped out from behind. Erik must be insane, I thought, willing to literally sacrifice these men for Dietrich’s cause. Hoping also, that if we had injured or killed these men, the trip would have ended on the spot.
Then, from out of the foggy shadows, on the grassy sides of the road further down the lane, Erik and his band emerged and walked toward us as rays of sunlight filtered through the mist and trees, sporadically illuminating the group as they walked.
They formed a semicircle in front of the bus about fifteen or twenty feet away. All had holstered sidearms. I’ve never seen that before on the campus. Five of them had, what appeared to me, to be M4 automatic rifles. Where did they get those?
Erik approached the door of the bus and proceeded to take his wooden nightstick and beat on the window. “Open up,” he commanded.
I nodded to Brother Francis to open the door as I walked down the steps, but remained inside.
“And how can I help you on this bright crisp morning, Erik?”
His piercing blue eyes cutting through me with spite and malice, he stated, “Turn the bus around at the circle and return to the main campus. You have no authority to leave.”
“Erik, what are you talking about? This trip has been approved by administration for over a month now. Would you care to see the papers?” I’m flashbacking to some of the old World War II movies when the Gestapo was running around demanding ‘papers, papers’ from everyone.
Still in his driver’s seat, Brother Francis hollered out, “Let me get out and kick his butt.”
“Your paperwork has been rescinded,” Erik snidely remarked.
“How’s that? Who has countermanded the administration’s permission?” I forcefully demanded.
“The United States Government!” Erik exclaimed, almost spitting the words in my face. He stood firm with his feet apart and slowly smacking his billy club on the palm of his left hand.
Obviously Dietrich was behind it all, but I played along with Erik. “And why is the United States Government so interested in a school bus trip?”
“Because you’re using this trip for proselytizing purposes. Your trip itinerary includes stops at Christian religious themed parks and museums. Is that not so?” He interrogated, continuing to beat his hand red with his stick. “You need special government permission to pull a stunt like that, and I don’t think you’ll get it.” Erik had a devilish smile on his face.
“So if I understand you correctly Erik, with the new Freedom of Worship rules, we are free to talk about religious subjects here at ICC or at the museums; it’s just that we can’t get from here to there. Am I correct?”
“That’s about the size of it, unless of course, you have Scotty teleport your bus to the museums.” He looked at his crew, and they all started to laugh derisively at us.