Winnie sighed in relief as the bus finally pulled up at the old dilapidated bus stop. The summer heat was sticky and unbearable, the kind that makes any layers cling like a second skin. She wasn't used to taking public transport, hated the damn things, if she was frank. Sitting next to strangers, not being in control of the speed they were going; the direction they would take...it set her anxiety on edge.
Still, despite all that, she was certain that the utterly blank box above the large windshield was meant to display the route number. This was meant to be an adventure, though. She just had to do it. The mechanical doors opened silently, so at odds with the apparent age of the great machine. Winnie had at least expected them to squeak incessantly, or perhaps for one of the doors to fall off, even. It was not in the best kept condition.
Steeling herself, she stepped in, the driver's eyes boring into hers with a bit too much maniacal enthusiasm.
"I'm your Larry Greybo, your bus driver today. It's getting full, so choose your seat wisely!"
The bus was...empty.
"An adult ticket, please?" Winnie mumbled, flesh prickling at the way Larry Greybo watched her intently.
"No tickets here! Everyone welcome!"
"Oh...kay," she whispered, not enjoying the sensation of having to turn her back on him.
She went straight to the back of the bus in a daze, perhaps from memories of being on the school bus - the back was always the popular spot. You got on the back seat you were practically a celebrity. In retrospect, Winnie thought, it just meant the first on the bus route was the aforementioned popular kid, without having done...anything, really.
The bus coughed back to life, going from idling, to wheezing to a comfortable splutter, and then the landscape started to blur with the movement. Pine trees standing tall as soldiers flitted past, a familiar sight, and Winnie found herself being lulled into calm by the rumble of the engine. Forgetting about how little the vehicle had likely been cleaned, she leant her head against the windowpane, felt the rattle of it tranverse into her brain.
Still too on edge to actually sleep (it was public transport, after all), she was content to just watch the world flit past. It was much the same - winding roads and dense foliage that cast shadows in dappled sunlight.
Occasionally, the bus would slow, then stop to a grinding halt. Sometimes it would be by a bus stop, at others just by a dirt path, or a large gap in the hedging bordering the road. Every time, the doors would open for a few minutes, distilling the warm trapped air of the bus with a new, relatively fresh supply. Then the doors would shut, and the journey would continue. No one else got on, no one was even waiting at these stops.
It seemed odd to Winnie, and she was sure that buses she'd got on in the past would just drive straight past an empty stop. Hell, sometimes they'd drive straight past if someone were waiting.
She did doze off, in the end. It was one of those drives that seemed eternal; they appeared to be going down the same roads over and over again, an almost circular route. It made her dizzy, and sleepy, and she wondered why she'd even bothered agreeing to go on this trip. She loved nature, had always felt a connection with it, but never felt the need to go camping to ascertain that connection.
But, it would make Thea happy, knowing she was doing something with her time instead of staring aimlessly at walls.
The bus creaked to a stop, all unoiled mechanisms and old parts. It was her stop. No roads here, just a huge, open expanse of field bordered by a large forest. She craned her neck to look behind her. She couldn't see how the bus had even managed to get there. It was the same - more field, no road, not even a dirt path. Just field and a forest that disrupted the horizon.
It was a haven of privacy - or a prison. She couldn't decide yet, the feeling of both curiosity and instinct to flee warring with one another.
The bus driver spoke up.
"Don't wake Mr. Dev," Larry Greybo said.
In the reflection of the large mirror at the front the driver used to keep an eye on passengers, Winnie could see Larry Greybo had his hat pulled low over his eyes, his lips in a thin, grim line. No longer exuding a mania bordering on chaotic, he was now reserved.
"What?" Had she misheard? Anxiety coiled low in her gut. I was a strange request. No, not a request. The way the driver said it made it sound like a threat. Mr. Dev was the only other passenger on board, a great big hulk of a man right at the front. His head was tipped back, mouth open and a line of drool starting at the corner of a dry bottom lip and extending past his chin.
Perhaps for the first time, she noticed the rest of the bus interior. Destitute and musty, it smelt of dead air and lingering sweat. Typical of public transport, really. The reason she avoided the damn things at all costs.
But there was also a menagerie of rubbish scattered across the floor: a box of Christmas decorations bizarrely out of place considering the current summer climate; a rubber dog toy that looked to be a bizarre caricature of Simon Cowell, teeth marks indented on the plastic; and a blow up doll of Trump that looked as if it had been sitting in one of the seats at one point, but had slid off and situated itself right in the middle of the aisle.
Beside the stop buttons on long stemmed handles next to each row of seats, skipping ropes were tied parallel to the next, bells threaded through the rope.
What the fuck came to mind. She didn't notice them coming onto the bus. Could have sworn they weren't there, but then again, she was in her own head an awful lot. Perhaps she had simply ducked under the ropes in a daze, sidestepped the bizarre amalgamation of memoribilia.
"Oh my god, oh my god," she whispered, heart constricting considerably as her breathing quickened, panic taking over at how wrong it all was. It felt like a test, and she didn't like that at all.
A few minutes had passed while she tried to calm, doing those breathing exercises Thea had taught her, when Larry spoke up again.
"Can't wait forever, love."
Steeling herself, she stood up. The seat creaked, making her freeze, but Mr.Dev remained in an apparently deep sleep.
She wasn't particularly clumsy, it would be easy, she told herself. Just step over a few things, duck under a few ropes.
She was thankful she had packed light, that she had managed to squeeze everything into a hiking rucksack, the tent a small pop up affair that somehow fit into a bag barely bigger than the length of her forearm.
Crouching low, she crept across the blue speckled linoleum, sliding one foot around the box of christmas decorations, then the other, pressing one hand into a dusty seat to keep balance. The dog toy was simply stepped over, and she allowed a smile at the ridiculous expression on the celebrity's face, but made sure not to laugh.
She shuffled past the Trump doll, but the thin plastic caught against the rough fabric of her rucksack, making a small squeaking sound. Mr.Dev's right hand twitched, but he remained sleeping, apparently now in a light sleep. Holding her breath, Winnie tiptoed the rest of the way, still in a low crouch despite the lack of skipping rope above her head, that danger long gone.
She only let out her breath when she was off the bus, exhaling heavily. The door shut, and the damn thing rattled away, looking on the verge of breaking down at any moment. Well, she'd arrived in one piece, at least.
WC 1362 WORDS.
