Amidst the flood waters, the bus was an island. Stranded atop was Mick and his best mate, Kev.
Earlier, when they had caught the last bus out of town, Mick thought they were safe, but the water had risen too rapidly and the bus became trapped. The pair had only just managed to clamber onto the roof of the bus before the interior flooded—others were not so lucky.
They had been silent for an hour, watching the town slowly submerge, when Kev suddenly spoke.
‘Almost three, Mick. The match starts soon.’
‘Match?’ queried Mick. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The final! Our boys are gunna smash those Rams.’
Out there, where the town used to be, Mick observed four posts topped with small flags protruding from the flood waters.
‘Kev,’ said Mick with concern. ‘The oval’s underwater. You alright?’
‘Beefy Branigan is key for us,’ continued Kev. ‘Everyone says it’s our halves—and they’re tops, don’t get me wrong—but I reckon down the middle is where it’ll be won. Beefy’ll steamroll ’em.’
Mick placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. ‘Kev, the flood, mate. The match was cancelled yesterday and—’
‘But we shouldn’t underestimate Shortround off the bench for the Rams,’ Kev carried on, as if this was just another regular Saturday afternoon conversation. ‘He may be only five foot nothing, but you remember coach’s motto from when we played?’
Water surged around the sides of the bus, splashing onto the roof. The bus creaked and slightly shifted position. In the distance, the tin roof of a house was sheared off and floated away like a leaf down a creek. Mick smiled ruefully, and the two men answered Kev’s question in unison.
‘Never judge a book by its cover.’
They shared a stilted laugh, then in a quieter voice Kev said,
‘Bonnie will be there.’
It was like Kev was elsewhere, and Mick couldn’t convince himself to try bring him back, so he too spoke like it was any other Saturday.
‘You finally going to ask her out?’
‘Yep,’ said Kev. ‘When the match is over. I’ve waited too long, and life’s too short for waiting. You only live once, right?’
The bus rocked, shifting a little further this time, but stayed upright. Mick scanned the horizon for any sign of rescue. It was empty.
‘Yeah, mate,’ he said flatly. ‘That’s right.’
‘We’ll all go to the pub after the match,’ said Kev, rambling now, almost manic. ‘We’ll buy Beefy a beer and he’ll tell us how he smashed Shortround. And I’ll see Bonnie—she’s so pretty—but I won’t be afraid to talk to her. Not this time. This time I’ll…’
Kev tailed off and dropped his head. He emitted a forlorn wail and his whole body began to shake. In a terrible echo, the bus groaned and shuddered hard against the ceaseless torrent. Mick wrapped his arm around his friend and drew him close. Tears welled in Mick’s eyes. When they flowed, they were unstoppable.