The Final Traveler of Course 79

🎙️ "The Final Traveler of Course 79"

In a calm city, there's a night transport. Course 79.

It clears out each night at precisely 11:

45 PM — sharp.

No one truly talks almost it.

It's fair one of those late buses individuals do not like taking.

Not since of anything specific… fair a feeling.

It begins from the southern edge of the city, makes its way through overlooked streets, and closes close an deserted bridge.

It's continuously about purge.

Three, possibly four travelers at most.

And the driver?

An ancient man. Noiseless. Doesn't talk. Doesn't squint much either.

One specific night, a youthful man — perhaps 25 or 26 — sheets the transport.

Tired eyes. Overwhelming sack. And something indeed heavier behind his hush.

He strolls to the back and sits alone within the corner, looking exterior the window.

The city's lights obscure behind glass. The streets look… unfamiliar tonight.

A number of minutes pass.

At that point, a lady steps onto the transport.

She's in her 30s. Basic dress.

But her confront — pale, hollow-eyed. Like somebody who hasn't rested in a long time.

Something around her feels off.

She doesn't sit.

She stands unobtrusively close the front, fair gazing at the youthful man within the back.

He takes note. Looks absent.

But she keeps observing.

At last, she strolls toward him. Gradually.

She inclines in near and whispers:

“Get off. Presently. In the event that you remain on this bus… you won't come back.”

The youthful man flickers. “Excuse me?”

She doesn't raise her voice. Her tone is still calm, still cold.

She says:

“This transport doesn't go anyplace any longer. Not where you think.

Now… it as it were takes individuals down.”

He scowls. Considers she's insane.

But at that point he takes note something.

The street exterior is no longer commonplace.

There are no streetlights.

The shops are gone. The buildings… vanished.

Even the sky looks darker than regular.

He gets up, strolls toward the driver to say something —

But the driver's face… isn't obvious.

It's as on the off chance that there's a shadow where his head ought to be.

He turns around — the other travelers aren't moving.

Sitting solidified. Faces clear. Eyes open, but purge.

He feels a chill run down his spine.

And fair then… the transport moderates down. No halt sign, no reason.

Fair moderates.

Without considering, he hops out — sack in hand — and runs.

He looks back.

The transport doesn't hold up. It keeps moving forward, more profound into haziness.

But some time recently it vanishes,

he sees the lady —

standing by the back entryway, looking right at him…

…and grinning.

The another morning.

A little column shows up within the daily paper:

“11:

45 PM Course 79 Transport Lost.

Driver and three travelers untraceable.

Final known area close the ancient railroad bridge.

Observation cameras went offline minutes before.”

The youthful man never talks freely approximately what happened.

But his companions say he hasn't been the same.

He doesn't take buses any longer.

Doesn't go out after 11 PM.

And when inquired why?

He as it were says:

“Because somebody spared me.

Now… possibly she's holding up for somebody else.”

But there's one more thing…

Interior the pack he was carrying that night,

there was an envelope.

He hadn't taken note it some time recently.

It wasn't his.

It had no title.

Fair a note composed on the front:

“You survived.

Presently you choose — whose turn is next?”

Finishing Snare Line :

“Next time you take a late-night bus…

check the course number.

In the event that it says 79…

do not see back.”