(Joshua’s POV)
The bus rattled over the rough road, each bump jarring me from the thin thread of calm I was trying to hang onto. My leg bounced impatiently, an old habit I could never shake. I leaned my head against the window, staring at the fog outside. It pressed so close, it felt like the world had disappeared, like we were floating in some kind of limbo.
But this wasn’t the kind of silence that soothed you. No, this felt like it was crawling under my skin, like something was waiting just beyond what I could see. My stomach twisted with that kind of dread that’s impossible to ignore.
I tried, though. Hell, I was good at ignoring shit—my brother’s arrests, my mom pretending I didn’t exist while she worshipped the ground he walked on, the frat boys and their jokes that always cut a little too close to home. Yeah, I knew how to push things down. But right now? The bad feeling clawing at me wouldn’t go away.
I shifted in my seat, feeling the weight of my earbuds in my pocket. Maybe I should put them back in, drown out the tension hanging in the air. I could feel it—everyone was starting to notice it too. The laughing had died down, and now the murmurs of conversation had that low, uneasy tone that made my skin prickle.
The fog outside thickened, swallowing up the trees, the road, everything. I couldn’t see ten feet beyond the window anymore. It was like the world had fucking vanished.
I clenched my jaw. Something wasn’t right. We were supposed to be on the highway, heading to the coast. Instead, here we were, on this creepy-ass back road that I knew wasn’t part of the route.
“Why the fuck are we still going this way?” I muttered under my breath, glancing toward the front of the bus. The driver wasn’t saying shit, and the further we went, the worse this felt in my gut.
I pulled my earbuds halfway out of my pocket, thinking about drowning out the noise with some music, but I stopped when I noticed Dillon shifting in his seat a few rows ahead. He looked just as uncomfortable as I felt.
Dillon Hayworth—the poster boy for rich-kid charm. Good looks, easy life. I didn’t know much about him beyond the fact that we were in the same frat. He always had this easy smile, like nothing ever got to him. The kind of guy who didn’t have to try hard because the world opened up for people like him.
Our eyes locked for a split second. His brow furrowed, and it wasn’t the usual confidence I was used to seeing on him. He looked… uncertain. Maybe he felt it too. I quickly looked away, annoyed that Dillon was even paying attention to me.
What did this rich kid know about life, really? About what it felt like to always be on the outside looking in? My life was a shitshow from day one. My dad split before I could even remember him, my older brother was in and out of jail, and my mom? She acted like I didn’t exist, compared to my brother. Like my whole existence was just a fucking afterthought.
I rubbed my jaw, feeling the tension knotting my muscles. Yeah, my life was a mess, but no one needed to see that. I kept it locked down. People saw what they wanted to see—quiet, angry Joshua Flinn, the guy who didn’t talk much but got the job done. A scholarship to the best university around. A success story, right? That’s what people believed.
I exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the feeling that something was about to go very wrong.
The bus slowed, the engine groaning as it crawled along the rough road. Then, without warning, it jerked to a stop, and the silence that followed was thick, oppressive.
“What the hell?” I muttered, pulling my earbuds fully out and sitting up straighter. Around me, the other students were doing the same, looking around with confusion.
“The engine’s acting up,” the driver called back through the crappy speaker. “Gonna take a minute to check it out. Stay put.”
My stomach twisted again. I wasn’t the paranoid type—at least, I didn’t think I was—but this was bad. The road we were on wasn’t even supposed to be part of the route. The highway was long behind us, and this fog? It wasn’t normal. Not this thick, not this sudden.
I glanced out the window again, but now it was like staring into a solid wall of white. I couldn’t see anything anymore—not the trees, not the road, nothing. We were trapped in a void.
“Stay put? Yeah, fuck that,” I muttered to myself.
I stood up, stretching my cramped legs, trying to push down the rising anxiety that was turning into full-blown unease. My gaze swept the bus, catching the confused looks on everyone’s faces. No one seemed panicked. Not yet.
I made my way to the front of the bus, ignoring the curious stares from a few students. I didn’t care what they thought. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to sit there and wait for the shit to hit the fan.
“Hey,” I called to the driver as he climbed out of the bus. He was muttering something about the engine. “Where the hell are we?”
The driver paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Shortcut,” he grunted. “It’s fine. Just engine trouble. Relax.”
I narrowed my eyes. “A shortcut to where? This isn’t the route.”
He shrugged, clearly not interested in explaining anything. “It’ll be fine. Just sit tight, kid.”
I clenched my fists, holding back the urge to tell him exactly where he could shove his shortcut. Instead, I cursed under my breath and turned back toward the rows of seats.
Behind me, Dillon stood up, his face a mask of confusion. I could feel his eyes on me, like he was waiting for me to say something that would make sense of this. But I didn’t have answers. Just a bad feeling.
We locked eyes again, and for a moment, I could see the dread in him too. Neither of us wanted to admit it. But I wasn’t about to make friends with Dillon Hayworth just because things were getting weird. He was probably worried about his phone battery dying or some bullshit like that.
I sat back down, running a hand through my hair, trying to calm the restless energy buzzing under my skin. But the longer we sat there, the worse it got. The bus hadn’t moved in what felt like forever, and the fog outside seemed to thicken with every second.
“Fuck this,” I muttered again, feeling my anxiety spike.
The bus doors creaked open, and the driver stepped out into the fog. His silhouette quickly disappeared into the dense white, leaving the bus eerily quiet. The students inside started whispering more, nervous conversations sparking as the silence stretched on.
Minutes ticked by.
Then, out of nowhere, a loud bang echoed through the fog.
Everyone jumped, heads whipping toward the door.
“What was that?” someone near the front asked, their voice tight with fear.
My heart pounded as I craned my neck to see outside, but there was nothing—just fog. Endless fog.
More murmurs now, louder. People were starting to get scared. I could see it in their faces—the forced bravado, the uneasy laughter that wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Probably just the driver,” someone muttered. “Maybe he dropped something.”
But I wasn’t buying it. That bang was too loud, too sudden. Something was wrong.
I stood up again, this time not caring who was watching. I wasn’t going to sit there and wait for whatever was out there to come knocking.
“Where are you going?” Dillon ‘s voice cut through the air, startling me.
I turned toward him. He was standing in the aisle now, his brow furrowed with that same worried expression. He looked different—not the carefree frat boy I had always pegged him as. He just looked… confused. Maybe even scared.
“I’m not sitting here,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Something’s wrong, man. You know it.”
He hesitated, glancing toward the fog outside. His face paled, but he didn’t argue.
I moved toward the front of the bus again, and this time, Dillon was right behind me. I pushed the doors open and stepped onto the gravel road. The cold air hit me, and the fog closed in, thick and suffocating.
I couldn’t see the bus behind me after just a few steps. It was like we were swallowed by this otherworldly nightmare.
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