*Route

Intro: It might be best if you read this intro after you read the story and then reread the story again.

This was a dream I had early this last week. It has been bouncing around my head for the last few days and when I tried to come up with an idea of the story, I decided this was a good one for Halloween. Since this is a dream I tried to keep the same feeling in regards to the character being locked in place, limited action/reaction, the vague world based on feeling and not physical detail. I promise most of my dreams aren’t based on doom and gloom. I do have cheerful ones but when I wake I only remember the details for a few minutes before all that is left is the satisfied feeling. It is the darker ones that stay in my mind.

My hand shifted on the metal bar as the force of the bus stopping made me stumble forward. I glanced up as the bus driver climbed out of their chair and walked down the few steps to the street. Even with headphones in, I still heard the single gunshot. My body shivered as the driver climbed back into the bus, started the engine, and drove on. A young man lay sprawled on the street, undoubtedly dead. I pulled back from the window and shivered.

The bus continued on its route picking up people. There was no empty seat. I shared the overhead bar with half a dozen other people. Their faces blurred together as I thought about the young man, dead, in the street. The death made no sense. I felt I should get off but at every stop I remained where I was, like my hand was glued to the warm, slimy metal bar above my head.

Everyone shifted forward from the sudden lack of momentum, but it wasn’t an official stop in the route. The driver climbed down from the seat. Though I stared directly at them, I couldn’t make out any features. The blue, or maybe gray, uniformed figure stood at the front and said something I couldn’t hear even though I stood a few feet from the them. People shifted to stand in the aisle. I watched the driver pass and the people fell, dead. I think from a gun. No one reacted. My hand remained fixed on the bar as I vaguely took in the scene. There was no doubt they were dead, but there were no details, just the undeniable knowledge.

The driver moved back to the front and started the bus up. Through the front window I saw someone, sitting in the street. They pointed, their mouth forming words I couldn’t hear. As the bus stopped again, making me stumbled forward, I watched as the driver climbed out. The young man, in perfect clarity turned in place, frantically gesturing. I understood. He’d seen the driver kill the others. He was calling for help.

He fell, still. The driver got back on and the bus continued. I glanced out the window as we past and saw the young man, sprawled on the street, undoubtedly dead. I pulled back from the window and shivered.