Author: Denise Diehl

‘Is the new guy up for his first run?’ asked Greg, the Metro manager, not bothering to look up from his paperwork as he addressed his roster assistant, Roy. Greg rubbed his stubby chin and shifted his considerable weight in his creaking chair, not wanting to hear the word ‘No.’

‘Yup, seems good to go. Been out twice with Charles on the day run, and I took him out for an evening run last night.’ Roy glanced out the grubby windows, watching the creeping darkness of the evening close in.

‘Yeah, but the last bus is a bit different… You know what I mean.’ Greg licked his lips and swallowed.

Roy waved his hands about and spoke with an edge to his voice. ‘He’ll do fine. He’s from Quantum Services—’

‘You’re kidding me. He’s one of them.’ Greg blinked furiously. He knew Quantum produced good labourers, but it would still be a first for Metro to employ one.

‘Yes. He’s our answer to the last-bus-run problem—’

‘Problem? Is that what we’re calling it now? We’ve had five guys quit in the past month. Ever since the fire at the Museum and the building’s collapse, that stop has had strange passengers board and scare the crap out of our drivers. It’s cursed, if you ask me. The company’s still picking up the tab for our former drivers’ counselling. First it was Richard, who found dead passengers in the back seat, all crispy-looking, every night for a week—’

Roy interrupted. ‘Police reviewed each death and found they were all due to natural causes. They said it was like what you get on cruise ships—oldies taking their last ride, all very normal.’

Greg gaped at Roy. ‘Crispy is the new normal?’ He paused, then pressed his point. ‘Then it was the others—which David, two drivers ago, described as freakin’ exhibits who escaped the fire and are now catching the last bus through town, boarding at the museum stop and disembarking at the cemetery stop. Now that’s not normal folk. David said they floated on like ghosts, and he felt extreme heat emanating from the Egyptian pharaoh as the pharaoh made eye contact. Same with Pete, our latest loss, who had the same group board at the same stop, but it was the Viking with his massive blade he felt threatened by. It goes on and on—old hags, witches, and cave men, even zombies for goodness’ sake …’

‘What do you want me to do? I’ve got our new driver. He’s keen, and I’ve briefed him to wait at the Museum stop for two and a half minutes with the doors open, then close them and repeat the same at the cemetery stop. He won’t see the others, of course, because he’s a Quantum tear-one labourer with no special features, just a physical body capable of driving a bus.’

Greg sighed and asked, ‘Are the Quantum guys reliable? I mean … ’

‘Definitely. They do as they’re instructed. Quantum has never had any failures. After all, you’re looking at one.’ With that, Roy spun on his heel and walked out.