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Feb. 12th, 2021 08:53 pmNovember 4th, 2020
The bus driver looks at them in the rearview mirror. "This is the last stop," he says, and John gets to his feet quickly, but not too quickly. As if he'd already known. He gives Martin a brief look, making sure he's coming along, then exits the bus with a polite, "thank you," for the driver.
It'd been easier than John expected to make it this far. He's spent the past couple of days squirreling away enough of the weird, fake-looking currency to pay for a few bus fares, and when Eliot had gone out to get them all lunch, he'd seized the opportunity and dragged Martin to the nearest stop. They'd climbed on the first bus to arrive.
And now they've taken it as far as it will take them.
There's a hiss and a creak as the doors swing shut, and then the bus drives off, leaving them standing at a stop comprised of a slightly rusted bus sign and a wooden bench.
A stone's-throw away, there's a larger sign that reads: WELCOME TO EAST HALLOW - Pop. 117.
John sucks in a breath and turns to Martin, pointing at the sign in a hot mix of anger and vindication. "Look," he cries. "They said we were all stuck in Darrow, but there's a whole village here! I knew it was rubbish." His eyes sting for a moment, helpless frustration bubbling in his chest — because if they lied about this, they probably lied about everything, and everyone's been so bloody nice that part of him had wanted to believe them.
But now the proof is right in front of them. They just took the bus to a neighboring village like it was the easiest thing in the world. So much for being stuck. So much for all of it.
He feels a little like he's just woken up in a strange bed all over again.
They won't get anywhere by crying, though, and John blinks stubbornly until his vision clears. Then he starts to march towards the village, only stopping when he realizes he can't hear Martin's footsteps crunching along behind him. He turns back around, flapping his arms once, impatient. "Well?"
The bus driver looks at them in the rearview mirror. "This is the last stop," he says, and John gets to his feet quickly, but not too quickly. As if he'd already known. He gives Martin a brief look, making sure he's coming along, then exits the bus with a polite, "thank you," for the driver.
It'd been easier than John expected to make it this far. He's spent the past couple of days squirreling away enough of the weird, fake-looking currency to pay for a few bus fares, and when Eliot had gone out to get them all lunch, he'd seized the opportunity and dragged Martin to the nearest stop. They'd climbed on the first bus to arrive.
And now they've taken it as far as it will take them.
There's a hiss and a creak as the doors swing shut, and then the bus drives off, leaving them standing at a stop comprised of a slightly rusted bus sign and a wooden bench.
A stone's-throw away, there's a larger sign that reads: WELCOME TO EAST HALLOW - Pop. 117.
John sucks in a breath and turns to Martin, pointing at the sign in a hot mix of anger and vindication. "Look," he cries. "They said we were all stuck in Darrow, but there's a whole village here! I knew it was rubbish." His eyes sting for a moment, helpless frustration bubbling in his chest — because if they lied about this, they probably lied about everything, and everyone's been so bloody nice that part of him had wanted to believe them.
But now the proof is right in front of them. They just took the bus to a neighboring village like it was the easiest thing in the world. So much for being stuck. So much for all of it.
He feels a little like he's just woken up in a strange bed all over again.
They won't get anywhere by crying, though, and John blinks stubbornly until his vision clears. Then he starts to march towards the village, only stopping when he realizes he can't hear Martin's footsteps crunching along behind him. He turns back around, flapping his arms once, impatient. "Well?"
