The Cover Age, Chapter 5

The bus was mostly empty, and by that I mean that when Clive and I boarded, that made a total of three, including the driver, who nodded as we climbed the steps, waving us off, both actions without really looking at us.

“Slow day,” Clive said.

They were all slow days. Even having so much experience with my own time, it left an impression on me. I had been more than happy for Oliver to break up the monotony. We continued traveling in silence. The farther north we got, the emptier the landscape. We were alone on the road for long stretches. The driver was talking to herself, probably not even aware she was doing it, so used to the bus being full, even if most passengers were painfully quiet, wary of sharing space with strangers, even if they saw the same people every day. But there would always be chatter, and someone blaring music. I noticed the radio was off, long after it should have been obvious. Public spaces, confined ones, usually offer compulsive sound, almost as a reassurance. Not during times like these, I guess, at least not on this bus. I became more surprised by the moment that the bus was even operating. Never took on anyone else. No one was waiting. Horror movie vibe, finally, I guess. It’s the little things adding up that cause the chills in those things, not the monsters. The monsters break the tension, not because you’re waiting for them, but because the mood has already been set.

We got off at an abandoned mall. Oliver Row stood in the parking lot in a long trench coat, collar pulled up around his neck, staring off in a different direction, like the bus driver.

“Fox,” he said.

“Oliver,” I replied.

“Clive,” Clive interjected, but seemed to notice that no one had asked. Oliver was agitated already, and huffed out a snort upon hearing.

“No need to be rude,” I said.

“You have no idea,” Oliver said.

“Let’s get on with it,” I said. “Time is a precious commodity, even now, at least for things like this. We’re going to start attracting attention.”

“Won’t take long,” Oliver said.

And then he threw a knife at Clive’s chest.