CHAPTER 42: 21ST CENTURY PUBLIC TRANSPORT

Morning sunlight leaked through the Sonder mansion’s tall glass windows like a spotlight, warm and judgmental. I was already halfway through a plate of scrambled eggs and toast when I realized I didn’t have the faintest idea how to excuse myself today.

"I think I’ll have to go out today, but I’ll be back in a few hours at best."

Eirlys was pouring tea for Hailie at the other end of the table, both of them chatting softly about something trivial, probably garden maintenance or some stock market thing I had no hope of keeping up with. They looked so calm at they turned their head over with slight confusion, so wealthy and so far removed from the itchy panic buzzing under my skin.

I stabbed at my eggs, spamming excuses in my head as they waited for elaboration. "I’m going to the library." Too nerdy, too suspicious. "I’m meeting a friend." What friend? I had zero. "I’m going for a walk." That one at least sounded human.

By the time I pushed my plate away and wiped my mouth, I still hadn’t settled on which lie to use. Luckily, Hailie beat me to it, as she leaned forward with that gentle, cutesie-sister look that always made me squirm.

"You’re free to head out whenever, Cory! You’re a good and trusty friend!" She giggled.

Eirlys added in, elegantly sipping her tea like some Victorian noblewoman. "Just text us if you’re staying out late."

And just like that, my carefully prepared excuses crumbled into dust. They didn’t even ask why, didn’t care. It almost felt like they wanted me to leave the nest a bit, like parents nudging a chick to fly. Except I wasn’t really a chick, more so a socially crippled raccoon, and the world outside was a giant bulldozer slamming into my tree.

"R-right," I muttered, shoving my chair back. "I’ll... I’ll do that."

They smiled, and that was it, lads! No interrogation, no raised eyebrows. Just acceptance, yet somehow that felt even worse.

I walked a few yards down their massive driveway before the real problem hit me: Transportation.

The Sonder’s garage had enough shiny, futuristic cars to make Elon Musk blush. I could have picked one, literally any one, and it probably would’ve driven me automatically. But I... couldn’t. Just the thought of poking my head into the garage and asking "Hey, mind if I borrow a Lambo?" made my stomach churn.

Actually, now that I think about it, had my driver license expired? Eh, I’ll check later, too lazy to pull out my wallet

I already am wearing their clothes; khaki pants and some puffed-shoulders flowery top that made me look like a 14 years old upperclass kid (perfect for a sting operation with Chris Hansen) while eating their food and laying on their beds, I could at least have some decency by flying myself.

So I kept walking until I hit the nearest bus stop.

And oh, did I regret it. Fucking hell of a week, I’ve had.

...

The bus reeked faintly of old fries and gasoline, a perfect metaphor for public transit itself in this shithole country that had more parking lots than houses.

I slumped into a cracked vinyl seat, hunching over like a middle-aged dude while letting out a huge sigh.

Outside the window, the city blurred by in gray streaks. My brain kept circling back to the phone call last night, Tanya’s voice, that stupid address, and my old apartment building. The words still rang in my skull like a death knell, this felt like a trap, like a really horrible trap.

But I didn’t get long to stew on it.

Halfway down an isolated stretch of road, the bus screeched to a halt all of sudden.

I panicked, my head snapped up as I heard curse words of "what the fuck" from the bus driver, noticing how this wasn’t a bus stop.

But then a man climbed on board, slim build, tall, reminded me of a junkie, but I couldn’t see much, he had a mask, hoodie, and a handgun.

A fucking gun, revolver, I guess those are called?

Time slowed as I clenched my fist.

I felt my body shrink inward, like every cell in me decided to curl up and die quietly. My knees tucked closer, my back pressed hard against the seat. I knew the woman who sat here wasn’t Cory anymore, I was a turtle. A pathetic, trembling turtle who couldn’t even hide in her shell.

There were only four of us on the bus: me, the man driving the bus (with a nice mustache), the masked guy, and a blonde woman sitting across the aisle.

The woman looked around my age but taller, shoulder lengthy cropped hair like she’d cut it herself. A paper bag of groceries sat on her lap, calm as if this was just Tuesday.

The masked man scanned across the bus, almost frustrated that there were only two of us, so he came down and take a good look at the both of us, a woman and a child-like woman. Surely if he were to rape someone, it’s gotta be her, not me, so I’m good on that front.

Then, he pointed the gun straight at me. "Wallet."

My hands shook like leaves in a storm. Every instinct screamed give it up, give it up now, and I did. I fumbled through my pants pocket, dropped my wallet on the ground while trying to pull it out, scurried to pick it up, and shoved it into his gloved hands without even daring to make eye contact. My heart hammered against my ribs so loud I thought it’d echo.

God damn coward you are, Cory Jay Smith.

And yet, somewhere in that panic-fried mess of neurons, I had this delusion.

This tiny, idiotic fantasy that maybe I could be a hero. Maybe I’d snatch the gun away, kick the robber in the chest, and save the day. Maybe I’d end up on the news, "Local Girl Stops Bus Robbery, Saves Life, Gets Nobel Prize, Kisses The President’s Daughter" and girls would line up at my door like I was some action star, probably need to hire security and body guard... Probably will get invite to dance at pubs and whatnot, then probably sold off to some trillionaire in Dubai and live as the 14th wife, breastfeeding his 15th.

Instead, I almost cried when the barrel finally moved away from my forehead. My throat tightened, my eyes burned, and the only thing I managed to save was my own skin as I hugged myself tight and sniffed away all that shame.

"You, wallet."

Meanwhile, the blonde woman didn’t even blink.

She reached into her wallet with robotic precision, peeled off a few bills, just enough for a decent meal and a drink, before extending them slowly on her hand.

Not the wallet, just the cash, with a stone and thoughtless expression.

The robber snarled. "All of it, don’t mess with me you bitch."

She shook her head, "No."

And I almost shit my pants right then and there, thinking that I was about to witness a murder in real life for the first time ever.

She said no, with a barrel under between her eyes? What the fuck? Is this one of those suicidal people I’ve heard about? Insurance fraud of sorts, but she didn’t seem to wanna move, as she tightened her fist around the wallet.

The robbers clenched on the revolver and my stomach dropped. The driver shouted from his seat, begging the young man to stop, but the guy didn’t listen. His knuckles whitened as he put his index around the trigger.

Just a few grams of pressure and two lives will be ruined, maybe even four.

Something in me snapped. I shot up from my seat.

"Wait! Wait, please, just think about this!" My voice cracked, but I forced it out. "You’re not gonna get away with it if you shoot! Cameras, cops, hell, even I could testify. Just... just take what you have and go, armed robbery gets off easier than first degree murder, you understand that, right?"

I was shaking so hard the words barely strung together. The robber turned, glaring through his mask, my knees buckled but I stayed standing, because collapsing would’ve meant shame... A fate worse than death.

"Shut up," he growled, trying to yank the wallet from the blonde woman’s hand. Except, it didn’t budge, his gloved fingers tugged but he got nothing.

The woman’s grip was like iron, her face unchanging as she looked up at him for the first time.

"Don’t."

The robber cursed, trying again, but it was like she was welded to it, my heart slammed so hard it made me dizzy.

"FUCK YOU" He screamed,

I panicked, like triggered by the loud sound.

I jumped forward. My brain screamed be the hero now, do it! I lunged at him, flailing like some drunk idiot, trying to reach up and grab ahold of the gun.

He swung back, just one simple motion of superior strength, like stepping on an ant.

Pain exploded across my face, then my stomach. I hit the floor with a thud, vision sparking white, somewhere between my consciousness fading in and out as my eyes heavied, I heard the driver shouting again, the robber cursing, and then there were footsteps pounding off the bus.

The silence afterward was deafening, but at least everything was okay, I hope I didn’t die... Did I? Was this heaven? Or is it limbo and vague, like the ending of Yosuga no Sora’s anime.

I groaned, clutching my stomach. My ribs ached, my pride was shattered, and my "hero moment" had lasted about two seconds.

As the driver screamed bloody murder while calling the station, the woman stood above me calm as ever, extending a hand. Her wallet still in her other grip, her groceries untouched on the seat.

"You didn’t have to do that," she said flatly, pulling me up. "It was a revolver, you could see the cylinder from behind him. It wasn’t loaded, just a desperate man who needed help."

...

...

...What the fuck did this bitch just say?

Needed help?????? HIM?????

I blinked, stunned, staring at the woman with a beautiful face and a pair of sad eyes, I hadn’t even thought about the gun at that moment.

"You... What?!" My voice squeaked like a broken clarinet. "You just... You- you knew?! All along?"

She nodded once.

The bus jolted back into motion, wheels grinding against the asphalt. My body still shook, my face throbbed, but she was already sitting down again, cool as ice, like nothing had happened.

"Hang in there little girl! There’s a hospital next stop!" The bus driver yelled, before muttering something I couldn’t make out.

I clutched my side, still trying to process everything.

Loaded or not... that had felt way too real.

And I had never felt smaller.

I sat on the ground, staring up at the blonde asshole with my teeth clenched... Can’t believe I almost die for her. And unlike Eirlys, I didn’t get to squeeze a boob as a thank you.