The Bus Ride Home

The streetlights along the narrow road flickered sporadically, their dim yellow glow casting long, jittery shadows that danced in the thick fog. The sky above was a bruised shade of purple, suffocating the stars beneath the weight of a coming storm. A creeping mist curled up from the pavement, wrapping the town in a shroud of eerie stillness. Only the low hum of an engine, followed by the groaning of brakes, pierced the silence.

The bus moved at a slow, mechanical pace down the empty road. Bill Slovack, behind the wheel, wore his usual grim expression. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from years of working these late shifts. His jaw was set hard beneath his thin lips. He drove with the disinterest of someone who had done the same job for far too long. The interior rattled with each bump on the road, the flickering fluorescent lights barely illuminating the empty seats.

Bill checked his rearview mirror. Two passengers slumped in the back, heads bent low. He didn’t care who they were, as long as they paid their fare and kept to themselves.

Ahead, through the windshield, he spotted movement at the next stop—a shadowy figure flailing its arms. Bill’s first thought was irritation. He hated making unnecessary stops, especially at this hour when all he wanted was to get home and crawl into bed. But protocol was protocol, and so he slowed the bus to a stop with a hiss.

The door opened with a wheeze, and a pale-faced girl stepped onto the platform. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, with dirty blonde hair tangled around her face. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt, her clothes were torn—a black turtleneck with rips along the sleeves, mud-caked jeans, and one shoeless foot clad only in a filthy sock.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, her voice trembling, her eyes darting nervously over her shoulder as though something—or someone—was following her.

Bill barely turned his head. “What?”

“Do you have a phone? I need to call someone—please.”

“No,” Bill replied curtly. “This bus isn’t a phone booth.”

She hesitated. “A radio, then? Anything? Please, I just need to—”

“I said no,” Bill snapped. “Now pay the fare or get off.”

The girl fumbled at her pockets, panic flooding her pale features. “I don’t have any money… Please, I need to get away. There’s someone—he’s—he’s coming for me.”

Bill rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “Two-fifty. Either pay or get off.”

Sarah’s breath hitched, and she bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. She clutched at the railing, desperate to hold on, but with no way to meet Bill’s demand. The bus remained idle, its engine a soft growl against the night, but the tension between them was thick.

“Fine,” Bill grumbled, finally moving his hand to pull the lever, signaling the doors to close behind her. “Just sit down. Don’t bother the other passengers.”

Sarah nodded quickly, relief flooding her expression. She shuffled toward the back of the bus, avoiding eye contact with the two passengers who barely lifted their heads. She slid into a seat and curled into herself, her body trembling uncontrollably as she clutched her tattered clothes tighter.

The bus rumbled forward again, and Bill’s mind drifted to how long this shift felt. He didn’t care what Sarah’s story was—she was just another lost soul in the dead of night. It wasn’t his problem.

He was jolted back to attention when another figure emerged from the fog at the next stop. His headlights cut through the mist, revealing a girl who stood shivering at the bus stop. Her clothes were in just as bad a shape as Sarah’s—ripped, dirty, her jacket hanging loosely from one shoulder. Her dark skin shimmered under the dull glow of the streetlights.

She waved both arms above her head, her movements wild, desperate, as though her very life depended on it. Bill sighed, gripping the wheel tighter, annoyed. Two strays in one night?

The bus slowed to a stop with a hiss, and the doors swung open.

"Please, please, let me on!" The girl’s voice was strained, desperation thick in her words. Her eyes were wide with fear, darting left and right as though expecting someone to step out from the shadows.

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Two-fifty,” he said automatically, his tone clipped.

“I don’t have money,” she stammered. “Please, I was with Sarah—we were together. He—he grabbed us both, but we escaped. Please, she’s already on the bus. You let her on! You have to let me on too.”

Bill’s gaze flickered to the back of the bus, where Sarah sat, hunched and silent. He could barely make her out in the dim lighting. Something about Aaliyah’s words stirred recognition in him, but it was quickly washed away by the growing irritation that gnawed at his patience.

He shook his head slowly. “If you can’t pay, you can’t ride.”

Aaliyah stepped closer to the open door, her eyes pleading. “Please, I need help. You don’t understand. He’s still out there. He’s going to find me.”

Bill’s mouth twisted into a frown. Something about this girl rubbed him the wrong way—her frantic gestures, the wildness in her eyes. He didn’t want trouble. He had already bent the rules for Sarah, and now this girl was trying to take advantage.

“No fare, no ride,” he repeated coldly. “Rules are rules.”

“But—”

Bill’s hand moved faster than her words, pulling the lever. The doors snapped shut in front of her, locking her out. Aaliyah’s face twisted in disbelief as she pounded on the glass, her fists slamming against the door as she screamed for him to let her in. Her cries were muffled through the thick barrier, and Bill ignored them, forcing the bus back into motion.

Aaliyah’s figure disappeared into the fog behind him, her voice fading into the night. Bill’s heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest, but he shook it off. It wasn’t his problem. It never was.

He drove on in silence, the bus creaking and groaning along the road. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the distant rustle of wind outside. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to.

An hour later, Bill’s shift came to an end. He parked the bus back at the depot and walked to his supervisor’s office. He scribbled down a quick report of the night's events, mentioning the two girls in passing, nothing more.

"Rough night?" Dan, his superior, asked as Bill handed in the paperwork.

Bill shrugged. "Just the usual. Had to kick one off, though. Girl couldn’t pay. Looked like she was on something."

Dan nodded knowingly. "Always happens this time of night. Don’t sweat it."

Bill grunted in response, too tired to engage in small talk. He made his way to his car and drove home in silence, the events of the night already fading from his mind.

When he stepped into his house, the smell of breakfast greeted him. Karen, his wife, was already awake and busy in the kitchen. She turned and smiled at him.

"Morning," she said, handing him a steaming cup of coffee. "How was your shift?"

Bill grunted again, taking a long sip from the mug. "Rough," he muttered. "A couple of girls gave me trouble. One tried to ride for free—ended up kicking her off. She wouldn’t stop banging on the door."

Karen raised an eyebrow. "That sounds awful. But you did what you had to, right?"

"Yeah," Bill replied, sinking into his chair. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, barely paying attention as the news anchor droned on.

"Breaking news this morning: Two girls, identified as Aaliyah Brooks and Sarah Mathews, have escaped from what police are calling a serial kidnapper and killer. The girls were reported missing earlier this week, and authorities believe they were held captive by a man who has yet to be apprehended."

Bill froze, his hand tightening around the coffee cup.

"One of the girls, Aaliyah Brooks, was tragically found dead on the side of the road near Route 22 early this morning, while the other, Sarah Mathews, managed to make it to the police station, where she is now safe."

The blood drained from Bill’s face.

"No..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. The image of Aaliyah pounding on the door of the bus flashed through his mind. Her face—twisted in terror, begging for him to let her on—stayed with him like a burn.

Karen looked up from the stove. "Something wrong?"

Bill stared at the television screen, his stomach churning with guilt. "The girl I kicked off... she was telling the truth."