The Last Passenger

The Last Passenger

On a dark night in Westbrook, the town's bus system, an old relic of a bygone era, was scheduled for its final route at midnight. Jack Reynolds, the night driver, had grown used to the strange silence that accompanied the late-night rides. As the bus approached the edge of town, he noticed an unfamiliar figure standing at the bus stop. The woman was motionless, barely visible in the fog. Jack squinted, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

As the bus approached the edge of town, Jack called out through the open window to ask for a ride. The woman didn't respond, and Jack frowned, a small shiver crawling down his spine. She climbed aboard silently, never saying a word, and Jack quickly shut the door behind her. The bus rumbled back into motion, passing empty houses and fields, with nothing but the low hum of the engine filling the silence.

The bus continued down the lonely road, passing empty houses and fields, with nothing but the low hum of the engine filling the silence. Jack tried to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping over him, but something felt different tonight. He shook his head, thinking it was just his imagination.

After several minutes, the woman turned her head slowly, and Jack caught a glimpse of her face in the reflection of the window. Her eyes were unnaturally dark, black as the night itself, and her skin was pale—almost too pale. Jack blinked and quickly looked back at the road.

But then the bus hit a bump, and Jack glanced back at her again. She was closer now, her face no longer shadowed, and her lips stretched into a thin, unsettling smile. Jack's heart began to race, and he could feel a presence growing stronger in the bus.

Jack's breath fogged in the cold air, and his hands frozen to the steering wheel. All he could hear was the sound of the woman's footsteps echoing through the empty bus, getting closer. Without warning, she stopped right next to him, her face now inches from his own. Her dark eyes were voids, empty and endless.

Jack tried to scream, but no sound came. The woman reached out, her fingers cold as ice, and touched his shoulder. The bus jerked violently, the lights flickering. For a moment, Jack's vision blurred, and when he opened his eyes again, the bus was no longer on the familiar road. The streets had vanished, and there was only darkness.

The last thing Jack heard before everything went silent was the woman's voice, faint but unmistakable: "And now, you'll never leave." The next morning, the town of Westbrook awoke to find that the bus had never returned. Jack Reynolds, the night driver, was never found, and the bus route was canceled, deemed unsafe. However, people near the bus stop swore that they sometimes heard the distant rumble of the old bus engine, followed by a shadowy figure waiting at the last stop just before the clock struck midnight.

Part II

In Westbrook, a town once quiet and peaceful, the disappearance of Jack Reynolds, the night driver of the haunted bus, has become the subject of rumors and whispered fears. Maggie Thompson, a young investigative journalist from the city, moved to Westbrook to escape the bustle of urban life. She had heard about Jack's disappearance and the mysterious events surrounding the last bus. One evening, as the town descended into its usual silence, Maggie heard the low hum of a distant engine, faint but growing louder.

Maggie froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had heard the story. The bus never returned, yet the sound of its engine was unmistakable. It was coming closer. Out of the fog, the old bus appeared, just as Jack had described it. The headlights shone dimly, casting long, ghostly shadows on the cracked pavement. The bus slowed to a stop right in front of her, the door creaking open with an eerie squeal.

Maggie saw the same woman from the stories—the last passenger. Her hood was up, obscuring her face, but Maggie could feel her cold, unblinking gaze, even from across the distance. She wanted to run, but her legs felt frozen in place. Her investigative instincts kicking in despite the overwhelming fear.

Maggie said, "No," her voice shaking. She didn't get on the bus. The woman's lips curled into a faint, predatory smile. But she was already on it. The door slammed shut behind her before Maggie could react. The bus engine roared to life once more, and before she could understand what was happening, the world around her began to twist. The bus jolted forward, its lights illuminating an endless highway surrounded by nothing but an oppressive void.

The woman was still standing at the front of the bus, her dark eyes locked onto Maggie's. She whispered that she was not like the others who'd come before her. She was here to show her. Maggie gasped for air, her hands gripping the seat, trying to steady herself. “What is this? Where are we going?”

The woman turned toward her slowly, her eyes dark as an abyss. She turned toward Maggie slowly, her eyes dark as an abyss. “We are going nowhere. You, like all the others, will be here… forever.”

The bus accelerated, the road ahead disappearing into a chasm of endless night. The other passengers—figures Maggie could now see clearly—were all staring blankly ahead, their eyes vacant, their faces pale and lifeless.

The woman stepped closer to Maggie, her cold hand brushing against her cheek. She told her, "This bus, Maggie, is the final stop. And there is no getting off." In the small town of Westbrook, people began to notice something strange. The old bus station stood empty and silent once more, and every midnight, the faint sound of a bus engine could be heard on the outskirts of town, growing closer until it stopped.