Francis was a friendly bus driver who would always greet me with a smile whenever I’d take his bus on the nights where work took longer than usual.
I’d often find myself with the same people on the vehicle and most of the time I felt safe enough to close my eyes and rest for a bit.
Come friday though the public transport gave me new passengers. An old couple whom, despite having a friendly aura, looked crestfallen. A man with his baby followed next, then a bunch of loud teenagers, and finally a bible-carrying middle aged man.
A smile was thrown my way when the man with the baby sat behind me while the one who carried the bible occupied the seat across from us.
A balding head and questionable hygiene made up the man. I tried my hardest not to pass judgement but the awful smell emitting from him was too hard to ignore.
Mumbles about how God’s punishment was coming and that no one would be spared from the onslaught left the man’s mouth. He started to add movements as if he was preaching, stomping his dirt laden shoe over and over and the tone of his voice now held so much conviction that irritation became evident in the faces of others.
A dead phone was the last thing you’d want on days like this as there was no other way for you to cancel the noise. The last thing I saw on my feed before my device turned off was the news of a missing four year old which didn’t help at all.
I could only ask for whoever was listening for the safety of the child as I was too useless to do anything about it.
The man behind me looked worried as he moved towards the back when the man next to us started to become incoherent. Agitation crept on me then so I slid nearer to the window in order to have a better view from my peripheral vision.
I always situated myself near the door as escape, in the worse casee, would be easy. That seat gave me a clear view of where we were heading and as minutes passed I noticed how the route started to change.
My eyes darted toward Francis who was rigid in his driving. I found it odd because he was usually relaxed and the loud banter of the teens along with the eerieness of the situation didn’t help at all.
I was about to call for Francis’s attention when one of my usual fellow passenger beat me to it.
“Hey France? You’re going the wrong way man.”
His question was met by silence and with the increased speed of the bus. It was that action that caught the attention of the other passengers.
The sight of small bones dropping on the floor turned our heads then as the preacher dangled a cloth in the air trying to shake the remaining contents out.
Small bones that had dried blood on them…bones that looked human.
His scrawny form stood mighty while his eyes scanned ours before bellowing words of harm.
“The sinful children of Adam and Eve need to be sacrificed! God will favor me then! “
The sight of a hunting knife that was pulled from his side turned our irritation to deep terror and it was that moment that made me regret taking the front seat.
Chaos soon ensued as our confusion and fear started to mix altogether with the added acceleration of the vehicle. I could hear the little cries of the baby, the distress in the old woman’s voice and the curses that left the mouths of others.
Pleads and threats were thrown at Francis but he refused to acknowledge a single thing as he kept his focus on the road.
One of the teenagers walked towards the deranged man then, a gun aimed dead center at his face.
“You fucking nutjob!”
My eyes closed at the same time his finger squeezed the trigger. I expected a loud bang and bloodshed but all I got was the wailing of the man as he fell on the floor while the rest of the teens wrestled him, making sure to keep him in place.
The boy unclipped the now empty magazine to show us that it was nothing more than a bb gun and assured us that it was just for protection.
The heroic act did so little to put us at ease though as Francis remained on the wrong road.
It was only when we neared the police station, a landmark that was at least three kilometers away from our destination, did Francis step on the break.
The sudden halt in our movement made me notice how the other passengers vacated their positions and crammed themselves at the end of the bus. Cries of both adults and children filled the atmosphere as if on a competition.
Francis shuffled then and I watched him get up from his driver’s seat and slowly approach me. His eyes were both steel and cotton for they lacked emotion but held tears at the same time. I clutched my bag as I desperately tried to form a plan of defense for whatever was coming my way.
“Hey man don’t you come near her!”
I heard the boy warn Francis as he helped his friends with the hysteric man.
My body begged for me to move, to jump on the seats until I could reach the back of the bus, but it was hard to focus on my preservation when everything was happening too fast.
I searched for whatever weapon I could use and it was then that I noticed the knife that the man dropped a few inches from my feet. I scrambled to take hold of it before Francis could reach me and I managed to breathe a sigh of relief when I did just that.
The bleeding man on the floor was still thrashing as the teens struggled to keep him down. Although lithe in frame, he held such impossible strength that I had the time to wonder if he was really worshipping God at all.
“I’m going to skin all of you alive!”
The words were laced with so much venom as his saliva and blood pooled together. The vile statement had no time to stir up the feeling of dread in me though as Francis entered my sight.
“Francis…why are you doing this?!”
I asked as my hand trembled, willing myself to attack a man I had already considered as my friend.
What he whispered next though made my heart stop before it raced with anxiety.
“Please go inside the police station and ask for help. That man in the back is carrying my baby.”
It felt like I could hear Francis’s heartbeats as his eyes met mine. The terror and pleading in them made me dare to turn my head and look at the man with his baby. The little one was screeching now, like it knew it was in the arms of a stranger.
Adrenaline was coursing through me like I’d never run out of it when I finally managed to move. I met the boy’s gaze, who was now confused and looked at me like I had suddenly grown two heads.
“I’m gonna ask for help. The police station is just meters away. Please do not let the man with the baby get off, he’s got the driver’s kid.”
I whispered with every sincerity as I can muster, praying that he’d believe me and do as I’ve said. The boy uttered a curse word just enough for the us in the front to hear.
He nodded at me as the man on the floor continued to pry away from their hold. As soon as my feet touched the road, I ran as fast as I could towards the station, finally breaking down as soon as the doors were opened.
A woman in uniform came to me then, trying to calm me down as she tried to unravel what I was trying to relay as other officers started to surround us. I mentally scolded myself for the sudden panic, rendering me unable to form a complete thought.
“Maam do you need to sit down? Paul, a cup of water please.”
The woman asked me as I crumbled on the floor, disorientation finally catching up. I shook my head no, refusing any aid for me as time wasn’t on our side.
I lifted my hand, pointing it at the door, trembling as I did so.
“Bones in the bus…just right outside…a man took Francis’s baby…help them please…“
The officers exchanged looks but listened to me all the same. Another female officer offered to take me into a room. I couldn’t focus on her words then as I just wanted to see what was happening outside.
She followed me as I walked out the station, trying to get me to come back and rest my trembling body but I couldn’t stop moving.
The cold breeze met my cheeks once more and I immediately sought out the vehicle. It was then that I saw Francis outside with the rest of the passengers, the frenzied man thrashing as the officers took hold of him.
I panicked again as the man with Francis’s baby was nowhere in sight. Breathing only became easy again when the female officer emerged from the bus, holding the baby in her arms as another officer followed with the man in handcuffs.
Francis wailed as soon as he was able to hold his baby once more.
“My wife please find my wife!”
I was so caught up in the horror of what was happening to us that I failed to consider the one that happened before ours.
The medics gave me something to calm my nerves as the other passengers were assisted as well. I sat on the back of an ambulance, sporting a cup of water when I finally felt the dryness in my throat. The onlookers were relentless with the way they took pictures of the bus, only the roll of police tape hindering them from crossing over.
Investigations revealed that the man who took Francis’s baby was new to town, completely oblivious to the route of vehicles, as he was just instructed to board our bus that very night and get off the next stop.
Turns out an accomplice of his, who had also been apprehended, followed Francis’s wife as she strolled the park with their baby. He jumped on the woman before beating her to a pulp, breaking her jaw in the process.
Thinking that she was a goner after throwing her body in the dark spot of the park, the man then took the baby, gave the child to his friend with instructions, who then took the same bus as me.
Francis’s wife crawled her way out of that place until she was able to find help.
“I was only meant to deliver the baby. I never planned on harming him.”
The man was crying during the trial. I stood by Francis then, who looked heartbroken as he was furious while his wife recovered at the hospital.
“I was just in it for the money.”
Just as I thought that terror wouldn’t show again, the man’s next words birthed a fact that made my stomach churn.
“I don’t hurt kids like they do.”
Further investigations revealed an even more horrifying truth. The bones on the bus belonged to the missing four year old that I had read about in the news hours before the incident that scarred me.
The mad man had nothing to do with the child’s demise though, he only took the bones from the already mangled body as animals had started to tear into it after being left exposed in the woods.
My heart couldn’t break more if it tried. It was too much sorrow for one ride. The thing that sent me into a deep anguish though was knowing that the old couple who were in the bus were the grandparents of the missing child.
They had boarded that bus as they were on their way home after searching tirelessly for their grandchild, not knowing that it was already too late.
I still don’t understand why we had to witness all of that, why the amalgamation of the human monstrosity needed to be seen by a couple of strangers who didn’t even ask for it.
People have called 911 after hearing a child’s cry from the thicket. Some even dared to enter themselves to help only to be met by a ghostly image of a weeping kid.
“I felt so hollow after…like I had fed the child to death myself.”
Feelings of despair and hopelessness attached themselves to those who only wanted to do good, a now constant reminder of the barbarity of the world.
Authorities have still yet to find the core that caused the untimely departure of the child. I lost sleep, avoided the news as much as I could, and became wary of people carrying babies in public transports.
I see the teens in town once in a while. The boys were offered scholarships for their heroic act as a form of commendation. We’d exchange nods and smiles, acknowledging the sense of humanity we were able to share that night.
The old diner became a place of meeting between Francis and I. Therapy became part of our schedules but the need to talk to eachother in person was what we needed the most.
The comfort food was enough to distract us from the gnawing trauma that had made a permanent residence in our souls.
“I still have nightmares. Most nights I’m afraid to even blink, thinking that my boy would be taken away again.”
The far away look in his eyes told me that he found it hard to be in the present, like he never got off that bus at all. I could only comfort him by the reminder that the authorities are still on the case and that his child is safe at home again.
“Are you taking care of yourself?”
Francis asked me, concern etched in his face.
I tried to laugh the question off, knowing that the bags and dark circles under my eyes gave it away. I took a serious tone then, looking away from my friend.
“Everytime I hear a crying child, be it in markets or the streets, I always assume the worst.”
There was no room for judgement, Francis understood.
“Just the other day I approached a weeping girl at the chips section of a store.”
I took a minute to compose myself at this point, ashamed of the actions I made after.
“She was being pulled by a woman who assured me that she was just having a tantrum. I didn’t stop following them until the kid said the word “mom.” “
A dry chuckle left my mouth then as the tears started to fall.
“The woman yelled at me to stop being a creep. It took everything in her not to slap me there.”
I bit my lower lip, as if that was enough to stop myself from breaking.
“Francis…what am I becoming?”
My friend didn’t have the answer but I was thankful because I wouldn’t have been ready for it anyway.
I allowed myself to be vulnerable then as Francis did the same, the corner booth hiding us away, allowing us to be human.
The next hour found us grocery shopping and when we walked back to his car after returning the shopping carts, a woman carrying her crying child passed us by.
Francis then approached them when the kid dropped her doll, her cries louder than before as snot made strands of her blonde hair stick to her nose.
A smile that said “sorry about this” was thrown our way as the little girl kept screaming “mommy no!”
As the mother and daughter walked off Francis and I overheard the mother saying
“Stop dropping your doll”
The cool air from the car brought a smile to my face, something I had not been able to do for a while, as I adjusted the seatbelt. When my eyes darted towards the rearview mirror, the last thing I saw before Francis swerved at the corner was a man running out of the store with a boy in hand.
A surge of uneasiness washed over me then. The trauma enveloping my system, rendering it to uselessness as I kept silent about what I saw as I fought the urge to look back.
Upon arriving home, I welcomed the soft touch of the setting sun after prying open my curtain, determined to bring life back into my abode again.
A made bed, washed laundry, and watered plants, I felt productive which in turn brought me a tinge of joy.
I was in the middle of pouring my drink when the sizzling of the salmon in the pan was interrupted by the familiar sound of a notification from my phone.
A tone I dreaded so.
It was an Amber alert and when I watched the live news on my feed, I was greeted by the plea of the same man from the store, begging for his daughter back.
“I looked away for a sec and she was just gone. Please I’m begging you give her back.”
The camera then focused on a woman who looked exactly like the little girl, weeping uncontrollably.
I placed the device down as everything started to go dark again upon the realization that the little girl was telling us that it wasn’t her mother all along.
The blare from the calls that were of Francis were ignored as I already knew what he wanted to say.
Once the tone stopped, I typed a message to my friend, asking him to do the right thing before shutting off the device for good.
As the hollowness took over my existence, my gaze returned to the frying food on the stove, the smell of char now filling the air.
I didn’t feel the need to do anything about it and thought about how it would be better to just let everything burn.