Blink - Chapter Two
SEE IT. FLEE IT. SURVIVE.
“Excuse me. What bus is that?”
The pedestrian followed my gaze and immediately broke into a sprint, dropping his pocket-watch in haste.
“Hey wait!” I ran after him and behind me, the bus sounded a blast—not the polite toot of a lumbering public transportation vehicle, but a long, metallic blare that shook the ground. I managed to stay on my feet only to trip over the man I was chasing. I crashed onto the pavement, tumbling head over heels.
“Help me!” cried the fallen man. “My ankle's twisted.”
I got to my feet in time to see the bus pull up alongside him, the driver smiling black teeth as worms dripped from his eye-sockets like mincemeat. The bus doors snapped open and a metal seat thrust outward, seizing the fallen man in its straps. He shrieked as he was swallowed inside.
The bus’s headlights hit me.
“RUN!” screamed the cat, springing off my shoulder, in the opposite direction.
I stumbled after it, shoes pounding the pavement. The bus revved behind us, honking again and again until its heavy bulk loomed over my shoulder.
“I can't outrun it!”
“Here!” called the cat, hurling itself into a peculiar shelter which I flung myself in after.
The bus screeched to a halt. The grotesque driver smacked his steering wheel and then took off again, disappearing round a corner.
“Are you stupid?” The cat looked up at me. “That bus almost caught you.”
“The driver… what…. was that thing?”
The cat slapped its tail against a dirty laminated poster. Beside the timetable, it showed a crude drawing of a bus, doors agape like jaws. Below it ran a neat row of warnings:
Check your route. Avoid marked streets during roaming hours.
Travel in groups. Lone pedestrians are most at risk.
Never idle in a bus lane.
Always reach a shelter before the second honk.
At the bottom of the poster, in cheerful red lettering, was a slogan:
SEE IT. FLEE IT. SURVIVE.
I leaned against the shelter, trying to catch my breath. “This is madness. Complete madness.”
“Just be glad we’re not on a Red Route,” said the cat. “I trust now that the precariousness of your situation is apparent?”
“Please. I just want to go back to my hotel.”
“Well you can't. So shut up and let me think.” It perched on the end of the bench, tail ticking back and forth. “Do you have a phone?”
“Yes it's… in my hotel room.”
“Do you have the time?”
“I don't wear a—oh, actually I have this.”
The cat’s eyes grew large. “Where did you get that?”
“That other guy dropped it.”
“I see. Then perhaps we're not totally bereft of fortune.”
I was no antiques expert but the delicate chain was gold, and the casing appeared to be ivory. Engraved into the inside face was the name: Evangeline.
“We could probably sell this for quite a lot,” I said.
“Not sell. Ransom.” The cat sprung from the bench. “Let's go. The next bus will be along shortly.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the Bone Collector.”