The End Of The Road

The forty seat bus seemed to swoop out of the darkness. Black, with a red lightning symbol painted on the side, and a darkened interior, it came to a stop with a hiss of air brakes. The door opened. A light was on inside, the bus seemed to be waiting for me, so I climbed out of the gutter, grabbed the rail, and went aboard.

I felt confused, couldn’t remember what I was doing there, or where I had come from. My tee shirt and jeans were filthy, smeared with blood and something else I couldn’t name. My sneakers were wrecked, my socks shredded.

Little details like my name were missing. I thought I must have had an accident, there was a pool of blood on the pavement which could have been mine. It looked fresh. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain. None of the passengers spoke; they sat in silence, not looking at me or showing any curiosity at all. They were simply there, waiting, for what, I didn’t know.

I should have been grateful my sense of smell was still there; the man I sat next to stank, but somehow emotions like gratitude were muted. He stared blankly, straight ahead, as I sat down. It was the only seat available or I would have gone elsewhere. I clung to the edge of the cracked vinyl, trying to keep my distance from him.

Thin grey hair mixed with dust and grime hung like a lifeless tag down the back of his mouldy, black coat. His tee shirt and trousers were black. With skin bleached white, peeling in places like dried used up paint on a wall, he seemed more dead than alive. His eyes were almost opaque with that milky lack of colour found in new born kittens.

As I moved the bus lurched forward, making the man roll toward me. As the bus sped through the deserted streets, taking corners with no regard for the safety of the passengers, I nearly fell off my precarious perch, but was saved by a pale, wrinkled hand reaching out and grasping my hand with surprising strength. I shivered as I felt those impossibly frail fingers touching my bare flesh. My skin broke out in goose bumps, and I found myself quivering with abject terror. This was something new for me.

I remembered then a kaleidoscope of my life; I was a god, young, tall, handsome. Girls loved me, guys wanted to be me. I had everything I wanted; money, talent, a devious and conscienceless mind I had inherited from my grandfather. I was slotted to live forever. The images faded, leaving a sense of things left undone, of a life going nowhere. With all that I had, satisfaction had not been guaranteed. Emptiness went on forever. I hadn’t even got my licence yet.

I turned to look at the man as he released me, encountering a look of mocking amusement. At least, I thought it was mocking. Maybe the opening in the face was a smile, or maybe it was merely the opening of cracked lips with nothing behind them but rotting teeth and bloodless gums. The face was a nightmare. His or mine? I wasn’t sure.

I looked down, seeing something which freaked me out even more than the touch of his hand. The corpse was wearing red satin slippers. I was thinking how weird this was when I felt the bus jerk to a stop. The door swished open, and I realised this was my chance to escape.

I stood up, ready to take my chances in the darkness outside. This was an unknown part of the city, an area loaded with hidden dangers and lurking shadows, very few street lights, a warehouse district close to the wharves. I could smell the salt and corrosion.