|
|
There were only five of them. Chris glanced at two of them, a man and a woman, as he sat down across the aisle. They looked young, but their faces were drained of life. Their eyes were dull and lifeless as they stared into space. The woman was wearing clothing from the mid-Seventies, but the man was wearing an old-fashioned pinstriped suit and a fedora that made him look as if he’d stepped right out of a 1940’s movie. It’s true, Chris thought. They haven’t aged. But they also gave in and accepted their fate long ago. So that’s it. That’s the price for staying… The other three passengers sat towards the rear of the bus. One of them looked like an Eighties Yuppie, his briefcase at his side. The other one looked like a 1950’s housewife. But it was the third passenger who caught Chris’s attention. She was wearing clothing from the late nineteenth century, and was the only one whose expression wasn’t as dull and lifeless as the others’ were. She looked as if she was still waiting for something. As Chris looked at her, he saw her eyelashes flicker as if she was coming out of a deep trance. She didn’t look directly at him, but Chris knew that she had seen him anyway. As he watched, her hands and lips began moving.
She’s trying to tell me something, realized. Did she find
a way to escape the others’ fate? Is she still waiting for
a chance to claim her share of the prize, like I am? “I was in New York City, in 1901,” she said. “It was not long after President McKinley was killed. I had felt something die in me on that day, and I just wanted to leave the world behind. I’d heard about the new Flying Dutchman. I knew the risk, but I waited until it came, and then I got on board. I stayed as it and the world changed around me. I wasn’t married and had no close family. This was my choice. I’m going to leave someday, but not before the others learn how and leave before me. So, I’ll wait. Others have come and gone before me. Some stay, but some go back. It is not their time or fate.” None of the others said anything. They did, however, show slight reactions, indicating that they had heard her words-and understood them, as well. It wasn’t their time to leave yet. They were waiting. So that’s it, Chris thought. If I stayed, would I become like them-with only her to keep me connected to the world I’d left behind? Is the loss of that connection the ultimate price? Chris knew that neither he nor the woman could do anything for them. The driver up front had given no indication that he had heard any of this, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He’s not expecting any of them to escape-not even her, Chris thought. But she knows something that he doesn’t. She knows that they’re not dead yet. And neither was he. Chris wanted to say something to the woman, but she was looking straight ahead again, lost in her own private battle against the entropy that had dragged the others down. Chris made his way to the front of the bus. There was a brake cord running overhead. Chris reached for it. It felt tender and unused in his hand. Then he pulled it. Everything seemed to stop. The driver turned around in his seat, showing Chris his face for the first time. Except that it wasn’t a face that Chris saw-only a grinning, bare skull. Chris felt his blood freeze as he looked at it. The driver then raised his hand and pointed one of his thin fingers at the doors. They slid open with an almost angry hiss. Chris got the message. He nodded as he got up from his seat and climbed down from the bus. He didn’t look back as it closed its doors. Then he heard it moan as it drove off. Chris turned to look then, but it was already gone. Only the empty street remained behind, and Chris saw without much surprise that he had ended up right where he started from.
Chris walked away from the bus stop, towards the lights that would
lead him home. **************
|