Chapter 1: The Midnight Bus Quiz

It was well past midnight when the last city bus rattled down Maple Avenue, and suddenly, the intercom crackled to life:

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and flickered. Pale rectangles fell across the scuffed vinyl floor, broken by the shuffle of tired shoes and the low hum of the engine.

There was that familiar mechanical whine. Then the PA system buzzed, jolting a couple of half-asleep riders awake:

"Attention, passengers. Respecting your elders and looking out for kids are core values in our community."

The voice sounded oddly cheerful, like a school principal trying way too hard. It bounced off the windows, making the empty seats seem even lonelier. I blinked, unsettled by how forced it sounded—did they really think anyone cared at this hour?

I glanced around—some people looked up, but most just kept scrolling on their phones, lost in their own worlds.

"To promote good manners in Maple Heights, please take the following civility quiz. High scorers can win a $15,000 cash prize."

That line snapped a few people out of their daze. Even the tired college kid in the back straightened up, eyebrows raised. Fifteen grand? For real? The city never gave out cash unless it was to collect a parking fine. What was this?

As the announcement ended, everyone—including me—suddenly got added to a group chat on our phones.

The notification pinged so loud it made me jump. My phone vibrated in my hand. My heart skipped. I looked down and saw the new group: "Maple Heights Night Bus Quiz."

The driver—apparently the group admin—sent a link. I clicked it, and the first question popped up on my screen:

"When you see an elderly person, a kid, or someone who's sick or disabled, do you give up your seat? Yes/No."

My first instinct was to tap "Yes," but just as I was about to, a wave of comments scrolled across my screen—

A chat bubble from someone named @RiderAlert popped up: Don’t pick Yes! Whoever chooses to give up their seat disappears!

My finger froze in midair. The old lady sitting next to me slowly turned her head, her mouth stretching into a grotesque grin that nearly reached her ears.

Her dentures clicked as she grinned. Her eyes glinted with something that made my stomach drop. I could smell her powdery perfume—sharp and sweet.

"Young folks these days… so rude."

Her voice was all sugar and venom, the kind of tone you only hear from a horror movie grandma. For a second, I wondered if I was imagining things.

I stared at the flood of comments, not even sure where they were coming from. My mind blanked out, like I’d just stepped off a cliff.

The comments kept coming, faster and faster, like some twisted social media feed gone berserk. My screen was a blur of red and black text.

In front of me sat a pot-bellied, middle-aged guy, grumbling under his breath:

He wore a faded Yankees cap and a stained windbreaker.

His voice was gravelly, the kind you hear in dive bars at closing time.

"What a bunch of crap. Who doesn’t know these answers? Bet the cash prize is a scam."

The driver sat steady at the wheel. Then, all at once, his head rotated a full 180 degrees, his gaze locking onto us.

My breath caught. The motion was so unnatural, so wrong, that for a second I thought I was seeing things. His eyes were pale, almost milky in the bus’s harsh light.

A cold sweat broke out down my back as I watched this bizarre scene unfold.

My shirt clung to my skin. Every hair on my arms stood up. The bus, which had just felt boring a minute ago, now felt like a rolling coffin.

I squeezed my girlfriend Autumn’s hand, trying to get her to look up at the driver.

I tried to play it cool, but my grip was tight. Her hand was ice-cold, her nails digging into my palm. I gave her a little squeeze, hoping she’d notice.

But Autumn kept her head down, totally absorbed in her phone, not even glancing up.

She always got lost in her phone. Right now, though, it was like she was in another world, scrolling through something I couldn’t see.

Typical.

The driver didn’t seem to notice my little gesture.

His eyes slid over us, but his smile never faded. The way he watched the mirror made my skin crawl.

An eerie smile crept across his gaunt, bluish face.

His lips stretched just a little too far, like a rubber mask pulled tight. He looked like a Halloween prop come to life.

"That’s right. This is our bus company’s way of giving back. The questions are easy, right? Go on and choose."

His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. The words felt like a dare.

A couple of teens in the back snickered. The man in the Yankees cap let out a snort.

"Really just handing out money? Looks like I’m getting lucky tonight!"

A woman in scrubs laughed, "Of course you give up your seat. The bus announcement says it every day—who could get this wrong?"

Finally.

My girlfriend finally looked up from her phone and glanced at me.

Her dark hair fell across her cheek as she peered at my screen. I could see the quiz reflected in her eyes.

"Hurry up and choose. There’s only a few dozen people on the bus, so each person could get a few grand."

She nudged me, her voice low but urgent. Money always got her attention, even in the weirdest situations.

My finger hovered over the "Yes" button for a long time.

I hesitated.

I could feel my hand shaking. The whole bus seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for someone to break the silence.

The old lady nearby started complaining impatiently:

She banged her cane on the floor, the sound echoing through the bus.

"What’s taking so long? Doesn’t anyone know the most basic rule about respecting your elders?"

At her words, the man in front of me tapped "Yes" without hesitation.

He did it with a little flourish, like he was showing off. For a second, nothing happened. Then—

Almost instantly, a faint red glow appeared above his head.

It shimmered in the dark, casting weird shadows across his face. He looked up, confused, as if he could see it too.

My girlfriend leaned in and whispered in my ear.

Her breath was warm against my skin, but her words sent a chill down my spine.

"Come on, pick already. The bus will reach the next stop soon. Don’t miss your chance."

She was jittery, bouncing her knee, her foot tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor.

I gritted my teeth and chose "No."

My thumb trembled as I hit the button. The comments slowed for a second, like even they were surprised.

Autumn looked at me in shock.

Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. She looked more scared than I’d ever seen her.

"What are you doing? Why would you pick No?"

Her voice cracked, just a little. She glanced around, like she was afraid someone would overhear.

I took two deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I tried to steady my voice, but it came out shaky anyway. My heart hammered in my chest.

"I can’t explain it, but I just have this bad feeling something awful will happen if I pick Yes."

The words sounded crazy, even to me. But the pit in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

She didn’t believe me.

Autumn’s brow furrowed, her eyes locked on me.

She bit her lip, thinking hard. I could see her weighing her options, trying to decide if she should trust me or not.

"Are you sure?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She searched my face for any sign of doubt.

I nodded.

I tried to look confident, even though I felt anything but. I squeezed her hand again.

She pressed her lips together. "Then I’ll do what you do."

She took a shaky breath, then tapped the "No" option. Her hand lingered on the screen for a second before she let go.

Her finger tapped the "No" option.

At the same time, a blue light appeared above her head.

It glowed softly, like a halo. She looked up, startled, trying to see if anyone else noticed.

I looked around the bus. Everyone had either a red or blue light glowing above them—everyone except the driver.

The effect was surreal. The bus was bathed in shifting colors, red and blue lights flickering on every head. It looked like some twisted disco.

The driver let out a short, sharp laugh.

Crack.

It was a sound like glass breaking, quick and cruel. The laughter seemed to echo off the windows.

"Looks like everyone’s done. Let’s reveal the answer."

His voice was flat now, almost bored. I could feel the tension in the air ratchet up another notch.

My phone buzzed as the group admin sent a new message.

The notification popped up: "Answer revealed."

"The correct answer to the first question: Yes."

My girlfriend punched me in the shoulder.

She didn’t hold back. "See! The right answer was ‘Yes’! This is your fault—we just lost thousands!"

She glared at me, but there was fear in her eyes, not just anger.

"Now that everyone’s seen the answer, those who got it right, please come up front to collect your prize."

Though the driver was still at the wheel, his voice sounded like he was whispering in my ear.

It sent a shiver down my spine. I looked around, half-expecting him to be right behind me.

The passengers with red lights above their heads stood up, one by one. They walked to the front of the bus.

They moved in a daze, like sleepwalkers. Their faces were blank, their eyes glazed over. Nobody spoke.

Autumn watched them, envy flickering in her eyes.

She stared, lips pressed together, as if wishing she could change her answer. I could see her calculating how much money we’d lost.

"They’re handing out the prize! If we’d picked right, we could be up there too."

She sounded more disappointed than scared, her voice tinged with regret.

Just as we expected the driver to get up and hand out prizes, everything changed in an instant.

The front door of the bus suddenly swung open.

It slammed against the side with a metallic bang. The cold night air rushed in, carrying the distant sound of traffic.

The driver simply stretched out his hand.

His arm seemed to grow longer, impossibly long, fingers splayed wide. The hairs on my neck prickled.

All the passengers who’d gone up were instantly shoved out the door.

It happened so fast, like a gust of wind. They tumbled out, arms flailing, their screams muffled by the roar of the engine.

The bus rolled over them. Crunch. I could almost hear the sound of flesh and bone being crushed beneath the wheels.

A sickening crunch echoed up through the floorboards. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to vomit.

My girlfriend stared at me, wide-eyed.

Her face was ghostly pale. She clutched my arm, nails digging in, her lips trembling.

She looked terrified.

After a long silence, she stammered,

Her voice was barely audible, as if she was afraid to speak too loud.

"What… what’s happening?"

The remaining passengers screamed.

The bus erupted into chaos. People jumped from their seats. Some pounded on the windows. Others scrambled for the back door.

"What’s going on? Stop the bus! I want to get off!"

A man near the back started banging on the emergency exit, voice cracking with panic.

"Call 911! Somebody call 911!"

A woman’s voice shrieked from the aisle, her phone clutched in a death grip.

Hearing that, it hit me—maybe this was some kind of terrorist or cult attack.

My mind raced. For a split second, I wondered if we’d been hijacked by some cult or criminal gang.

I grabbed my phone to call for help, only to discover in shock that I had no signal at all.

No bars. No LTE. No Wi-Fi. I tried toggling airplane mode, but nothing changed. We were cut off from the world.

The bus kept moving.

The city lights blurred past, but the world outside seemed distant, unreal. The driver never slowed down.

Someone finally snapped and smashed a window to escape.

The crash of glass was sharp, desperate. A young guy in a hoodie climbed onto the seat, ready to jump.

Through the glass, I saw that as soon as they jumped out, a powerful suction force pulled them under the bus.

It was like a black hole opened up right beneath the wheels.

The guy’s scream was cut short as he vanished under the chassis.

Blood and bits of flesh splattered everywhere.

The window was painted red in an instant. Someone screamed, a high, keening wail that made my blood run cold.

"Ugh!"

The gruesome scene was too much. I tried to hold it in, but ended up gagging anyway.

I doubled over, the bile rising in my throat. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air.

He was enjoying this.

The driver’s head turned back around, his eyes sweeping the bus with satisfaction.

He looked pleased, almost proud, as if he’d just pulled off a magic trick.