Demons on the Bus

As I finished my usual routine at the office, a sense of unease crept over me, like a shadow lurking in the corners of my mind. I tried to brush it off as fatigue from the long day, but deep down, I knew better. I had experienced this feeling before, and it never turned out well. 

“Is everything alright, Sam?” my coworker Jenny asked as she passed by my desk, her brow furrowed with concern.

I forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Jenny nodded. “Get some rest, okay? And be careful out there. The streets can be dangerous at night.”

Her words echoed in my mind as I walked through the empty office, checking every room to ensure no one remained. The soft click of each lock reverberated through the hallways, amplifying the unsettling atmosphere. As I paused to verify that the surveillance cameras functioned properly, their red lights blinking like watchful eyes in the darkness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

“You’re just being paranoid,” I muttered, my voice hollow in the empty space. 

With a heavy sigh, I switched off the lights, plunging the office into darkness. As I turned to leave, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Heart pounding, I whipped around but saw only shadows. Unnerved, I flicked the lights back on, scanned the room, and found nothing amiss. Shaking my head, I immediately turned off the lights and hurried out.

As I stepped outside, the cool evening air brushed against my skin, carrying with it an inexplicable sense of foreboding. I locked the door behind me, the metal keys cold against my fingertips. The streets were unusually quiet, devoid of the typical hustle and bustle of the city. It was as if the world held its breath, waiting for something to unfold.

I walked to the bus stop, my footsteps echoing in the empty street. As minutes ticked by, I shifted restlessly, impatience mounting. When the bus finally arrived, I was surprised to see an unfamiliar vehicle. The driver’s gruff voice and unsettling smile only heightened my unease.

“Are you getting on or what?” he barked, his eyes narrowing as he looked me over.

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to walk away. But I couldn’t afford to be late for my second job. “This isn’t my usual bus,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Well, tough luck,” he replied, his smile widening. “Your regular driver called in sick, so I’m filling in. Now, are you getting on or not?” 

Against my better judgment, I stepped onto the bus; the doors closing behind me with a hiss. As I walked down the aisle, I noticed only one other passenger sitting near the back. The emptiness of the vehicle was unsettling, considering the usual crowds that packed the bus at this hour. It was as if fate had cleared the stage for the events that were about to transpire.

As the bus lurched forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. The driver continued to pass all the regular stops, ignoring the designated route. A chill ran through my body when I glimpsed his coal-black eyes in the visor mirror. I had seen those eyes before, in the faces of the demons that relentlessly pursued me.

“I think you missed my stop,” I called out, my voice trembling. 

The driver’s laughter filled the bus, a sinister sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice dripping with malice. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I reached into my pocket, my fingers closing around the familiar shape of my pen. It was a small comfort, knowing that I had my weapon at the ready. I had learned long ago to conceal my spear, to keep it hidden from the world’s prying eyes. But as the other passenger rose from his seat, his movements unnaturally fluid, I knew I would have to rely on more than just my weapon to survive this encounter.

“You can’t run from us forever, Sam,” the passenger hissed, his coal-black eyes glinting in the dim light of the bus. “We’ll always find you.” 

I gripped my pen tighter, my heart pounding in my chest. My voice steady, I replied, “I’m not running,” despite the fear coursing through my veins. “I’m here to fight.”

The passenger lunged at me, his claws outstretched, a snarl ripping from his throat. I dodged, the stench of sulfur filling my nostrils as his claws grazed my cheek. With a flick of my wrist, my pen transformed into a spear, its weight comforting in my grip. I thrust it forward, aiming for his heart, but he was too quick. He ducked under my blow and slammed into me, sending me sprawling across the aisle.

I rolled to my feet, my spear at the ready. The passenger stalked toward me, his eyes burning with hatred. I feinted left, then struck right, my spear finding its mark in his shoulder. He howled in pain, black ichor spewing from the wound. But he didn’t falter. He charged at me with a roar, his claws slashing through the air.

I parried his blows, the clang of metal on bone ringing in my ears. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes, but I blinked it away. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when my life hung in the balance.

We danced a deadly dance, my spear flashing in the dim light of the bus, his claws tearing at my flesh. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt it trickling down my chin. But I refused to give up. I poured every ounce of my strength, every shred of my determination, into the fight.

And then, with a final, precise thrust of my spear, I pierced the passenger’s heart. He let out a gurgling cry, eyes wide with shock, as flames engulfed his body, reducing him to ashes within seconds.

But there was no time to celebrate my victory. The driver was already upon me, his fists slamming into my body with inhuman strength. I staggered back, my vision blurring from the pain. But I refused to give in. I lashed out with my spear, catching him in the arm. He snarled in pain, his eyes flashing with rage.

We grappled, our bodies slamming against the seats and the windows. The bus swerved and shook, and the driver’s erratic movements made keeping my footing difficult. But I clung to my spear, using it as an anchor in the chaos.

With a last burst of strength, I drove my spear through the driver’s chest. He let out a choked cry, his body convulsing as flames consumed him from within. And then, with a final shudder, he crumpled to the floor, his ashes scattering across the bus.

I stood there, panting, my body aching from the battle. But even as I emerged victorious, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. As I stepped off the bus, ready to face the challenges of my second job, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The demons seemed to grow bolder, their attacks more frequent. It was as if they were building up to something, an ultimate confrontation I knew I would have to face, eventually.

“You can’t keep this up forever, Sam,” a voice whispered in my mind that sounded suspiciously like my own. “Eventually, they’ll catch up to you. You’ll fall.”

I shook my head, pushing the voice away. Thinking like that was not something I could afford. I had to stay focused and keep fighting. For as long as I drew breath, I would continue to face the demons, one battle at a time.

As I walked away from the scene of the battle, the city streets slowly coming back to life around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. But one thing was sure: I would never stop fighting. I would never give in to the darkness that sought to consume me. 

“Bring it on,” I whispered, my grip tightening on my pen. “I’m ready for whatever comes next.”