The Chronicles of a Public Bus (part 1.08)

Wednesday, 6:00, route 31

Out of all the regulars on Rick’s bus, Mr. Pyus is the one least likely to be in the company of anything even remotely related to the powerful folk. Yet when Wednesday morning finally comes, and Rick is savoring his routine bus route, he is met with the sight of the ponderous Mr. Pyus being followed by a shimmering, translucent rattlesnake.

Suddenly Rick is not savoring his job anymore. He gulps as Mr. Pyus steps onto the bus, and when the soft, hissing rattle of the snake’s tail shivers to life, Rick can only hunch over in his seat and let his teeth chatter.

This reaction washes over the bus as Mr. Pyus strolls through the aisle in search of a seat. In fact, he’s the only passenger oblivious to the spirit behind him. Students clutch their backpacks closer to their chests, and the few boys obnoxious enough to take up more than their fair share of space immediately withdraw, copying the huddled poses of those around them.

Mr. Pyus finally collapses into a seat across from Willow and Drake, heaving a sigh and then slipping on his usual, saintly smile. “May the One God bless y’all,” he says.

The rattlesnake coils on the floor in front of Mr. Pyus, its head pulled in and its tail cracking and swishing like a whip. Words drip from its bared fangs in low, slow hisses.

“Eat,” it says. “Eat rabbit.”

Drake raises an eyebrow and turns to face Willow. “Did you hear that?” he asks in a whisper.

“Of course I heard it,” Willow snaps. She fidgets, shifting so that she sits on the very edge of her seat. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spiritual power, would you, Drake?”

“Sorry, European dragons are generally not associated with that sort of thing.”

Willow spits out a bad word and leans forward in her seat, slowly bringing up one foot to rest it on the cushion. She flicks her gaze to Drake for a moment and mouths four words. “Please don’t freak out.”

Then she’s a blur of white and black and purple, and her sage green jacket is piled in a puddle of folds atop her backpack. The rattlesnake lunges forward, and Drake presses backwards, his breath stolen by the whooshing air.

When Willow comes into focus again, she stands on the backs of two rows of seats, one fist raised millimeters away from the snake’s nose. Bits of her night black hair are streaked in brilliant white, and fur creeps across her cheeks and down her forehead. She is grotesque, an animal ripping through human skin. Even the seafoam green steam surrounding her curls with ravenous hate.

“Were you expecting a zodiac sprite, snake?” Willow snarls. She dives from her perch, arms outstretched to wrangle the rattler.

It is too quick though. The snake darts away and slithers under the seats, and a storm of screams swirls in the air as slick scales brush past legs. The bus’s brakes shriek, and everyone on board topples with the stop.  Well, everyone except Willow and Mr. Pyus.

At the front, Rick flies through emergency procedures, radioing bosses and slamming buttons and levers. He wishes he’d taken the day off, gotten a break from the wackiness, but the thought only lingers in the back of his mind. More important is the rabbit girl tearing up his bus.

Willow dances over seat backs, watching the floor beneath for the telltale diamond pattern on the rattlesnake’s back. Passengers flee before her, staying clear of her outstretched limbs and precarious, fleeting balance. Then a rush of brown streaks through her peripheral vision. Willow crouches and vaults back to the bus’s rear, landing with a roll and a tumble before barely snatching the snake’s segmented tail.

Her fingers close around the rattle, and she digs her heels into the plastic floor. She tosses her chin over her shoulders, looking to make sure there aren’t passengers too close.

“Mr. Pyus,” she says, voice strained. “You do realize there was an evacuation, right? Everyone except you has gotten off the bus.”

“Everyone must get off the bus at some point in their lives,” Mr. Pyus replies.

Willow decides she doesn’t care if she accidentally whips Mr. Pyus with the snake spirit. She heaves the rattler up and throws it over her shoulder, listening to it spit and hiss and feeling it flail in her hands. Its head crashes to the seat right next to Mr. Pyus, sending up a tiny dust cloud.

Mr. Pyus coughs.

“Wherefore?” the snake chokes out. “Wherefore is rabbit fights?”

In the very front, Drake pokes his head in through the door. He watches Willow bring the snake’s tail to her face and and close her eyes. Then she inhales like she’s about to blast notes through a tuba, and the snake snaps into nothingness, disappearing in a wink of grey and brown.

Willow drops to her knees, her hair fading back to its usual black, and the white fur on her skin receding back to the hypodermis from which it came. After a glare at Mr. Pyus, she shakily climbs to her feet and stumbles to meet Drake in the Bus’s center.

“Are you alright?” he asks her. “What happened to the snake?”

Willow sniffles. “As Divinity would say: I conquered. I ingested. I want to barf.”

“That does sound like Divinity.” Unsure of what to do next, Drake pats Willow’s shoulder and offers a smile. “Well, the bus driver said that he’d keep going as long as his bus wasn’t destroyed, and he wouldn’t need to speak with police, and neither of those qualifications was met, so are you coming to school, or will you go home now?”

“School. I don’t think I’ll be queasy for too long, and it’s probably safer for me there than at home. I’m pretty sure there are a few exorcists in the student body.”

As people begin filing back onto the bus, Drake nudges Willow back to their seats, where their belongings are still strewn about on the floor and cushions. After a short moment spent tidying up and reclaiming items, all the passengers are seated again, and Rick radios the bus office to keep his bosses posted. Then he shuts the front door and restarts the engine, and the bus is off again.