Chương 123: Chapter 123
The Midnight School Bus never came for anyone who asked for it. It never came for the curious, the daring, or the ones who thought they could prove something to their friends. It came for those who felt it was their turn. Those who could feel it calling. The few who thought they could survive it, that they could take whatever came with the ride and walk away laughing.
The bus didn't need to announce itself. It never made a sound. But it was always there. Just past the edge of a deserted street, beyond the highway lights, hidden in the dark corners where no one went. The headlights would appear first, dull and pale, flickering like a half-formed idea. Then, a horn. A short, low honk, almost a warning.
Tonight, the bus found a new group. They were a mix: adrenaline junkies, bored teens, the occasional skeptic who needed proof. They didn't know what they were in for, and that was fine. They never did.
Brad was the first to speak, of course. He always had something to prove. The other kids didn't care. Most were high, drunk, or both. But Brad? He had made the challenge, and he wasn't about to back down now. They all climbed onto the bus when it arrived at the edge of the woods, when the wind picked up and the road felt wrong. Brad didn't hesitate. Neither did the others.
"What's the deal, then?" one of them asked as they stumbled up the stairs, a guy named Jordan, his voice a little too slurred.
"Nothing to it," Brad said, a grin on his face as he grabbed an empty seat by the window. "We just go, see the ghosts, prove it's real. The end."
The bus creaked under their weight as the door closed behind them with a sickening groan. No one noticed at first, how the temperature seemed to drop, or how the lights flickered once more before coming to life.
It wasn't until the bus pulled away that the reality of it set in. They were alone, really alone.
"Is anyone even driving this thing?" Jordan laughed, his voice shaky now. But Brad only shook his head.
The road felt narrow, but they could still see the headlights cutting through the trees. But the trees weren't right. Not anymore. They looked wrong. They didn't move like trees should, no sway, no bend. The branches hung like bones, their tips thin and sharp as needles.
"What the hell is that?" someone muttered.
They were quiet now, every last one of them staring through the dark windows at the endless line of trees, the flickering lights casting long, impossible shadows on the trunks. Every few seconds, a flash. That's all it took. A flicker. Then it was gone.
Then it happened.
The bus stopped. The engine sputtered. The silence around them grew heavy.
"Is this part of the ride?" one of them asked, more to themselves than anyone else.
Brad checked his phone. No signal. He cursed. "I don't like this."
A hiss came from the back of the bus. Then, the lights above them flickered once more. It wasn't normal. No bus was supposed to be like this. None of them had seen a school bus that could do what this one did. The lights flickered again, then there was a flash. The bus shook. Someone screamed.
Brad spun around to face the rest of them. They were all staring straight ahead, eyes wide.
"You all saw that, right?" he asked, trying to sound like he was still in control.
But they didn't answer. None of them did. They couldn't.
Outside, the world wasn't the same. The trees were gone. The road was gone. The bus wasn't on a road anymore. It was floating—no, it was hanging in something. A void, thick and alive. The dark pressed against the glass like a living thing, and the more they stared, the more it felt like the darkness was staring back.
It was cold. No, it was freezing.
Brad tried to get up, but his legs felt heavy. He was stuck.
"Everyone stay calm," he said, his voice cracking. "We're going to figure this out."
But no one listened. They couldn't. Their eyes stayed locked on the windows, on the creeping dark that never seemed to end, stretching beyond the glass. The shadows blurred, twisting, crawling, moving in ways shadows shouldn't.
Jordan suddenly screamed again, his voice breaking in a high-pitched wail that only deepened the silence. He pointed toward the back of the bus.
The lights flickered. The air grew thinner. Brad turned, his mouth dry, but the back of the bus was empty. No one was there.
"Jordan, what the hell is wrong with you?" someone else yelled.
But Jordan wasn't listening. He was shaking, his eyes darting toward the front of the bus, his mouth open, trying to scream, but no sound came out.
Brad felt it before he saw it. The pressure. Like a tightening rope around his chest. He couldn't breathe. His hands clawed at his shirt, but it wasn't his shirt anymore—it was the bus. He was stuck, trapped, locked in place.
And then the darkness broke through. A form appeared in the window, distorted, its shape impossible to place. Its face was twisted and broken, no mouth, no eyes. The face wasn't even a face. It was a nightmare trying to look like one. The bus vibrated. Something scratched against the metal, a sharp, screeching sound that cut through the air like knives.
A voice broke through, thin and cruel.
"It's time for you to leave."
Brad opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His body felt like it was falling into the seat, a crushing pressure against him, as though something invisible was pushing him down.
Jordan wasn't moving. He was staring at the window, his body frozen, his mouth still open in a scream that never broke the silence. His eyes began to crack, split, like glass breaking. And his head twisted—impossibly, horribly—until it faced back toward Brad. His lips parted, but there were no words. Only a wet, sucking sound.
Brad couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
"Why did you get on this bus?" the voice asked again, louder now. A laugh followed, hollow, cruel.
The lights above them flickered, then burned out. The shadows grew stronger, pulling at the bus. The metal walls around them groaned under some unseen pressure. The last seat was empty. The doors had disappeared.
One by one, each of them vanished. Some screamed as they were pulled into the dark; others simply disappeared without a sound. All Brad could hear was the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, and the whispers in the dark.
But it wasn't over. Not yet.
Brad was still there. He tried to fight it. He tried to get up.
But something moved inside him. Something that wasn't him anymore. His skin felt loose. His hands trembled, but not from fear—no, not from fear. From something else. Something cold. It felt like it was crawling inside him, taking his place.
He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn't open.
The last thing Brad heard was the faintest sound of laughter. A sick, twisted laugh.
And then, like the others before him, he was gone.
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