<div class="floatright">(http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSBadCQB7tH7yfWujsxz9qb8Xj3tkLgrm9Yg9Qp1SZLAqk7KOv3&amp;t=1)<strong><br/>Sara (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=150938.msg6869979#msg6869979)<br/>On Dom's bus<br/></strong><br/><hr/></div><br/>What the Hell<em>was</em>she doing?<br/><br/>Her scorning inner monologue echoed the question as she neared the front of the bus. There had been a harebrained scheme in the works. Hotwire the fortress-vehicle. Gun it. Pray that Twitch bails from his snitch perch. Somehow, she'd encounter her brother stranded in the wastes, and make away into the sunset with the bus and its human cargo in tow like the hero from some spaghetti western fable.<br/><br/>Before she could even take another breath the gaping shotgun exit wound sized holes in her plans crushed whatever fleeting madness had overcome her. Should she even manage the minor miracle or starting the bus, it wouldn't take much for the smaller vehicles in the raider fleet to catch up with the armored bohemoth - and when they did, there would have been quite the reckoning. She'd have gotten them all killed in prolonged and painful ways, their guard included. Her brother, if he ever returned, would likely be greeted by the same grizzly fate.<br/><br/>Her shoulders slumped in defeat just in time to be bound by Noah's wiry grasp. The tool kit fell from her hands, rattling against the ground as she was hauled backward. Before she knew it she was staring up the sunroof at Twitch, the feeling of Noah's heart beating against her back.<br/><br/>"<strong>Just needed to use the facilities</strong>." She explained through constrained breaths, feigning disbelief at their overreaction.<br/><br/>The explanation seemed sufficient. Twitch returned to the far more pressing duty of scouting, fumbling to return binoculars to his sunburned nose.