Nightshift 42: Bus 3
The day'd passed without incident, which had Sanzo already on edge. Goku wasn't here, wasn't trying to avoid him like he'd thought earlier, but actually missing again. Unless the idiot went back to the basement, he thought grimly. There wasn't anyway to find out, short of getting back to the institute, quickly, and tearing the place apart.
He'd found himself back full circle, at the buses.
Night fell, along with a prickling sensation down his neck. He could feel it immediately: something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it either just yet. There wasn't any sign of the other patients being rounded up. No sign of the drivers either; the buses lay silent and dark, the doors open. If that tight schedule was anything to go by, they should've been back at the institute by now.
The monk drew closer. He came to stop at the last bus, then suddenly pressed himself against the side. A low moan rent the air. It sounded sickly, as if the air was pulled up amongst phlegm, against ragged tissue and blood. It was close. Directly behind him.
Warily, Sanzo peered around the bus end. It was the bus driver. The man was facing away, and from the looks of it, hadn't noticed him yet. The monk remained where he was.The driver seemed to be shuffling around and having a difficult time of it. Drunk? It seemed unlikely, considering the outfit Landel ran, but then again, you couldn't control every last worker.
That was when he noticed the broken ankle the man was dragging, the bones sticking right out at an awkward angle. The skin around it looked decayed, missing in places. Despite the obvious wound, the man just let out that deathly moan again and continued to amble about. He started to turn. Sanzo caught a glimpse of a missing nose and bone before he drew back.
It looked like the shift change and the transformation that went with it extended out here as well. The driver was coming towards his side of the bus and fast.
The monk moved, ducking into the bus. There was only time for a quick scan, but it looked empty.
Sanzo ducked into the aisle, and watched the doorway. The driver was getting close. He could hear the uneven shuffle of gravel, the rattling sound of each low groan. The monk pressed his face near the floor, keeping his head down. Several seconds passed. The man staggered into view. He could see now that the driver's jaw was just barely hanging on, the rest of his face looking as if it'd been almost scorched off. Sanzo held his breath, silently watching.
The man staggered off and away. The monk didn't get up, just waited until the sound of his feet was long gone before he moved. He rose. As things went, they were fucked out here. No way back to Institute short of walking, the entire fucking town possibly turned. Sanzo swore again. Was this Landel's idea of a game for all of them? The basement wasn't entertaining enough for him? He could guess the rules well enough. Survive until morning.
Sanzo started to leave when something caught his eye. He hesitated. It was a glint of metal in from under one of the seats. Despite himself, the monk craned his head to look.
He'd recognize that shape anywhere. The Smith & Wesson, lying right near an equally familiar bundle.
What the hell?
Sanzo frowned. This had to be a trap: far too good to be true anyway, and he wasn't the dumb monkey. He wouldn't just take it for face value immediately. Yet Sanzo still hovered near the doorway. He wasn't about to pass up getting armed though. Sanzo remained where he was, scanning the bus for any sign of danger, even ducking down to check under all the seats. The area around the bus seemed clear so far. The driver was off near the first bus.
After a moment, he moved, heading slowly over towards the seat, shoulders tensed. This was the perfect ambush, and he had to be ready to react if it was. All the while, he continued to scan the bus interior and the surrounding area, keeping an eye on where that driver was.
It took a little longer than normal to reach the seat at that pace. Cautiously, the monk bent, and pulled the two items out from under the seat.
The gun felt reassuringly heavy in his hands, cool metal against his skin. Sanzo flipped the chamber open. Fully loaded, everything looked like it was in working order.
He snapped the gun shut. The sutra he just draped on his shoulders. It felt out of place without the robes, but the damn thing wouldn't fit in his pocket. He wasn't about to leave it here either.
Maybe this was part of the game. Sanzo smiled humorlessly. It wasn't much sport if the hunted didn't have a chance of fighting back.
[Over here]
He'd found himself back full circle, at the buses.
Night fell, along with a prickling sensation down his neck. He could feel it immediately: something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it either just yet. There wasn't any sign of the other patients being rounded up. No sign of the drivers either; the buses lay silent and dark, the doors open. If that tight schedule was anything to go by, they should've been back at the institute by now.
The monk drew closer. He came to stop at the last bus, then suddenly pressed himself against the side. A low moan rent the air. It sounded sickly, as if the air was pulled up amongst phlegm, against ragged tissue and blood. It was close. Directly behind him.
Warily, Sanzo peered around the bus end. It was the bus driver. The man was facing away, and from the looks of it, hadn't noticed him yet. The monk remained where he was.The driver seemed to be shuffling around and having a difficult time of it. Drunk? It seemed unlikely, considering the outfit Landel ran, but then again, you couldn't control every last worker.
That was when he noticed the broken ankle the man was dragging, the bones sticking right out at an awkward angle. The skin around it looked decayed, missing in places. Despite the obvious wound, the man just let out that deathly moan again and continued to amble about. He started to turn. Sanzo caught a glimpse of a missing nose and bone before he drew back.
It looked like the shift change and the transformation that went with it extended out here as well. The driver was coming towards his side of the bus and fast.
The monk moved, ducking into the bus. There was only time for a quick scan, but it looked empty.
Sanzo ducked into the aisle, and watched the doorway. The driver was getting close. He could hear the uneven shuffle of gravel, the rattling sound of each low groan. The monk pressed his face near the floor, keeping his head down. Several seconds passed. The man staggered into view. He could see now that the driver's jaw was just barely hanging on, the rest of his face looking as if it'd been almost scorched off. Sanzo held his breath, silently watching.
The man staggered off and away. The monk didn't get up, just waited until the sound of his feet was long gone before he moved. He rose. As things went, they were fucked out here. No way back to Institute short of walking, the entire fucking town possibly turned. Sanzo swore again. Was this Landel's idea of a game for all of them? The basement wasn't entertaining enough for him? He could guess the rules well enough. Survive until morning.
Sanzo started to leave when something caught his eye. He hesitated. It was a glint of metal in from under one of the seats. Despite himself, the monk craned his head to look.
He'd recognize that shape anywhere. The Smith & Wesson, lying right near an equally familiar bundle.
What the hell?
Sanzo frowned. This had to be a trap: far too good to be true anyway, and he wasn't the dumb monkey. He wouldn't just take it for face value immediately. Yet Sanzo still hovered near the doorway. He wasn't about to pass up getting armed though. Sanzo remained where he was, scanning the bus for any sign of danger, even ducking down to check under all the seats. The area around the bus seemed clear so far. The driver was off near the first bus.
After a moment, he moved, heading slowly over towards the seat, shoulders tensed. This was the perfect ambush, and he had to be ready to react if it was. All the while, he continued to scan the bus interior and the surrounding area, keeping an eye on where that driver was.
It took a little longer than normal to reach the seat at that pace. Cautiously, the monk bent, and pulled the two items out from under the seat.
The gun felt reassuringly heavy in his hands, cool metal against his skin. Sanzo flipped the chamber open. Fully loaded, everything looked like it was in working order.
He snapped the gun shut. The sutra he just draped on his shoulders. It felt out of place without the robes, but the damn thing wouldn't fit in his pocket. He wasn't about to leave it here either.
Maybe this was part of the game. Sanzo smiled humorlessly. It wasn't much sport if the hunted didn't have a chance of fighting back.
[Over here]