twist
11-16-2012, 04:03 PM
It was a cold, foggy November evening in 1962. I had decided to drive instead of taking the train and stand freezing on the platform. The train was often delayed and there were some rather unsavoury looking characters hanging around the platforms in those days.
I’d certainly chosen the wrong day to drive. It was an unfamiliar route and the fog grew heavier every few minutes. “Come on, come on lift!” I said in despair to the fog but it took no notice. I had no idea where I was. I prudently stuck to the main road and drove as slowly as I could. Even with the fog lights on I couldn’t see much more. The other cars’ headlights glowed eerily through the mist. But they seemed to be much less frequent now. The fog lifted after what seemed an age. I was still disorientated as my navigational sense seemed to have been affected by the fog.
Relieved, I noticed a large green road sign in the distance. I speeded up, my confidence returning. As I approached it my mind seemed to be playing tricks. I drove closer, screwing my eyes in concentration. The road sign did not have a single word on it – it was completely blank. My car swerved into the next lane as I momentarily lost my concentration on the road ahead. Luckily there was nowhere there. There was no one behind me or in front of me either, for that matter.
I was now heading for a roundabout. There were signs at each exit . I slowly went around the roundabout. There was a sign at each exit but each was blank. I went around again and again. They were still blank. Take the second exit, stay on the main road I said to myself. I glanced to the left and saw a bus stop a little further on. I slowed down as a man and woman stood chatting to each other. Then I glanced at the bus stop sign. This was blank too. I wondered if the couple had noticed this.
I was in two minds whether to ask for directions from these strangers. I ignored the voice that said ‘Don’t stop’ indicated and came to a standstill.
The couple stopped talking and turned. Nervously, I lowered the passenger side window. “Excuse me, which part of town is this?” I felt silly saying the road signs were blank. “I missed the sign at the roundabout.” I added by way of explanation. The man pointed to the bus stop sign. “I don’t know, we don’t live here. We got lost in the fog and managed to find the bus stop. I don’t know why there’s no sign on the bus stop.”
The woman shrugged. “I’m really tired and I just want to get home.“
“It’s not just the bus stop sign. All the road signs from the roundabout are blank too,” I added. “I just didn’t like to say earlier – in case you thought I was a nutter!”
“Have you noticed there are hardly any cars around?” I asked. The woman looked past me and held her hand out. “The bus – finally,” she muttered. The bus slowed down and stopped . “Should you get on it? Something really strange is going on. Look, there’s no destination on the front of the bus.” The woman ignored me and got on but the man hesitated. “ Are you going to Hatton Cross, mate?” he asked the driver. There was no reply and the bus suddenly lurched forward and drove off. We just caught a glimpse of the woman banging on the window mouthing “help!”
“Quick get in!” I yelled to the man.” We’ll follow it. It’s got to stop somewhere.” I turned to look at him, ”So what’s your name?”
“Keith Bryan” he mumbled. “ I introduced myself and made small talk in an attempt to distract him.
We soon caught up with the bus. However all the traffic lights were green so we weren’t able to get too close. We drove on for about twenty minutes. I noticed no-one was at any of the bus stops.
“I should never have let her get on the bus,” moaned Keith, his head in his hands.
“Is she your wife?” I ventured. “No, my sister,” he replied taking his hands away from his face. We just got lost in the fog on the way back from a family celebration. We saw the bus stop and were waiting there a few minutes when you arrived.”
The bus disappeared from view as the fog thickened to a pea souper. Keith held his head in his hands again. “She’s gone - my only sister” he sobbed in a muffled voice.
“We don’t know that,“ I tried to reassure him. It was about an hour later when the fog began to lift again.
We found ourselves in the middle lane on a main road. We were approaching traffic lights which were red this time. As I looked in the rear view mirror I caught sight of a bus in the next lane. It stopped next to us. This one was full of people. “Look,” whispered Keith, pointing a quivering finger. “It’s my sister.” Sure enough, there she was, chatting away to the elderly lady in a pink hat next to her. She suddenly turned and waved. Her companion smiled and waved too. Keith darted out of the car. He ran wildly towards the bus and leapt on board. Soon enough he was sitting beside his sister embracing her. Then they caught sight of me and waved happily. I was unsure as to whether I should just drive off as I still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I decided to stay close to the bus. It hadn’t stopped at about ten stops. I wasn’t sure if there were any people waiting at the stops as the fog had begun to gather again.
As we turned a corner the bus was suddenly in my lane. I swerved and sounded my horn. The bus seemed to vanish into nothingness. For a split second all the blank signs flashed before me and the passenger’s faces including Keith and his sister’s were imprinted on my mind .
All I wanted to do was to go home but I was quite shaken by the incident - being nearly hit by a bus can do that to you. I ended up parking by the roadside, just climbing into the back seat and falling asleep. I was woken by the sound of traffic the next morning. I got up rather cold and stiff and walked into the nearest shop – a newsagent. The paper boy was loading a stack of papers onto his bike whistling tunelessly as he did. ‘Last survivor Keith Bryan from bus crash 3 days ago dies tonight’, said the headlines.
I tried to stop my voice from trembling as I spoke to the newsagent, “Excuse me, do you know anything about this accident? I met Keith Bryan last night, I don’t understand.” He rudely stared at me. “Oh I have to buy the newspaper , do I?” I said. Someone else walked in. “Morning,”called the newsagent cheerily.
“There was another accident last night at the same spot as the bus crash. Mark my word it’s the ruddy fog to blame,” said the policeman. “This time it was a car. Oh, terrible news about Keith Bryan,” he said glancing at the newspaper. “He died last night. Did you know him?”
“No,” replied the newsagent. “I knew him!” I said quickly.
“He was a teacher at the local Upper School. Really nice chap. Taught one of my boys. Anyway, we still don’t know who the car driver was – not from around here. He was probably lost, poor fellow.”
I turned to the policeman in desperation, ”I really need you ask you some questions.”
He just continued, ignoring me, “The boys from the station found the car late last night. It was completely smashed in on the passenger’s side. He hit a bus shelter. They said the strangest thing was that the body was in the back seat. Almost like he was taking a nap!”
Images flashed through my mind again and as I recalled the strange events of the night in the light of the conversation I had just heard I felt strangely calm. So I had swerved to avoid a phantom bus from the crash three days previously. Of course, Keith was the last passenger on as he died last night. Somehow I knew he was waiting for me.
Another customer came into the shop. The policeman said he needed to get back to work and brushed past me. He turned briefly, looking puzzled. I walked out of the shop too. The fog was returning and I saw a pair of headlights through the mist. The bus approached the stop. I climbed aboard and sat next to the old lady in the pink hat. Keith was sitting on the opposite side of the aisle with his sister. “I saved you a seat,” he said smiling. I noticed that the young driver at the front was driving much slower than the night before. I don’t suppose there was any rush now…
I’d certainly chosen the wrong day to drive. It was an unfamiliar route and the fog grew heavier every few minutes. “Come on, come on lift!” I said in despair to the fog but it took no notice. I had no idea where I was. I prudently stuck to the main road and drove as slowly as I could. Even with the fog lights on I couldn’t see much more. The other cars’ headlights glowed eerily through the mist. But they seemed to be much less frequent now. The fog lifted after what seemed an age. I was still disorientated as my navigational sense seemed to have been affected by the fog.
Relieved, I noticed a large green road sign in the distance. I speeded up, my confidence returning. As I approached it my mind seemed to be playing tricks. I drove closer, screwing my eyes in concentration. The road sign did not have a single word on it – it was completely blank. My car swerved into the next lane as I momentarily lost my concentration on the road ahead. Luckily there was nowhere there. There was no one behind me or in front of me either, for that matter.
I was now heading for a roundabout. There were signs at each exit . I slowly went around the roundabout. There was a sign at each exit but each was blank. I went around again and again. They were still blank. Take the second exit, stay on the main road I said to myself. I glanced to the left and saw a bus stop a little further on. I slowed down as a man and woman stood chatting to each other. Then I glanced at the bus stop sign. This was blank too. I wondered if the couple had noticed this.
I was in two minds whether to ask for directions from these strangers. I ignored the voice that said ‘Don’t stop’ indicated and came to a standstill.
The couple stopped talking and turned. Nervously, I lowered the passenger side window. “Excuse me, which part of town is this?” I felt silly saying the road signs were blank. “I missed the sign at the roundabout.” I added by way of explanation. The man pointed to the bus stop sign. “I don’t know, we don’t live here. We got lost in the fog and managed to find the bus stop. I don’t know why there’s no sign on the bus stop.”
The woman shrugged. “I’m really tired and I just want to get home.“
“It’s not just the bus stop sign. All the road signs from the roundabout are blank too,” I added. “I just didn’t like to say earlier – in case you thought I was a nutter!”
“Have you noticed there are hardly any cars around?” I asked. The woman looked past me and held her hand out. “The bus – finally,” she muttered. The bus slowed down and stopped . “Should you get on it? Something really strange is going on. Look, there’s no destination on the front of the bus.” The woman ignored me and got on but the man hesitated. “ Are you going to Hatton Cross, mate?” he asked the driver. There was no reply and the bus suddenly lurched forward and drove off. We just caught a glimpse of the woman banging on the window mouthing “help!”
“Quick get in!” I yelled to the man.” We’ll follow it. It’s got to stop somewhere.” I turned to look at him, ”So what’s your name?”
“Keith Bryan” he mumbled. “ I introduced myself and made small talk in an attempt to distract him.
We soon caught up with the bus. However all the traffic lights were green so we weren’t able to get too close. We drove on for about twenty minutes. I noticed no-one was at any of the bus stops.
“I should never have let her get on the bus,” moaned Keith, his head in his hands.
“Is she your wife?” I ventured. “No, my sister,” he replied taking his hands away from his face. We just got lost in the fog on the way back from a family celebration. We saw the bus stop and were waiting there a few minutes when you arrived.”
The bus disappeared from view as the fog thickened to a pea souper. Keith held his head in his hands again. “She’s gone - my only sister” he sobbed in a muffled voice.
“We don’t know that,“ I tried to reassure him. It was about an hour later when the fog began to lift again.
We found ourselves in the middle lane on a main road. We were approaching traffic lights which were red this time. As I looked in the rear view mirror I caught sight of a bus in the next lane. It stopped next to us. This one was full of people. “Look,” whispered Keith, pointing a quivering finger. “It’s my sister.” Sure enough, there she was, chatting away to the elderly lady in a pink hat next to her. She suddenly turned and waved. Her companion smiled and waved too. Keith darted out of the car. He ran wildly towards the bus and leapt on board. Soon enough he was sitting beside his sister embracing her. Then they caught sight of me and waved happily. I was unsure as to whether I should just drive off as I still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I decided to stay close to the bus. It hadn’t stopped at about ten stops. I wasn’t sure if there were any people waiting at the stops as the fog had begun to gather again.
As we turned a corner the bus was suddenly in my lane. I swerved and sounded my horn. The bus seemed to vanish into nothingness. For a split second all the blank signs flashed before me and the passenger’s faces including Keith and his sister’s were imprinted on my mind .
All I wanted to do was to go home but I was quite shaken by the incident - being nearly hit by a bus can do that to you. I ended up parking by the roadside, just climbing into the back seat and falling asleep. I was woken by the sound of traffic the next morning. I got up rather cold and stiff and walked into the nearest shop – a newsagent. The paper boy was loading a stack of papers onto his bike whistling tunelessly as he did. ‘Last survivor Keith Bryan from bus crash 3 days ago dies tonight’, said the headlines.
I tried to stop my voice from trembling as I spoke to the newsagent, “Excuse me, do you know anything about this accident? I met Keith Bryan last night, I don’t understand.” He rudely stared at me. “Oh I have to buy the newspaper , do I?” I said. Someone else walked in. “Morning,”called the newsagent cheerily.
“There was another accident last night at the same spot as the bus crash. Mark my word it’s the ruddy fog to blame,” said the policeman. “This time it was a car. Oh, terrible news about Keith Bryan,” he said glancing at the newspaper. “He died last night. Did you know him?”
“No,” replied the newsagent. “I knew him!” I said quickly.
“He was a teacher at the local Upper School. Really nice chap. Taught one of my boys. Anyway, we still don’t know who the car driver was – not from around here. He was probably lost, poor fellow.”
I turned to the policeman in desperation, ”I really need you ask you some questions.”
He just continued, ignoring me, “The boys from the station found the car late last night. It was completely smashed in on the passenger’s side. He hit a bus shelter. They said the strangest thing was that the body was in the back seat. Almost like he was taking a nap!”
Images flashed through my mind again and as I recalled the strange events of the night in the light of the conversation I had just heard I felt strangely calm. So I had swerved to avoid a phantom bus from the crash three days previously. Of course, Keith was the last passenger on as he died last night. Somehow I knew he was waiting for me.
Another customer came into the shop. The policeman said he needed to get back to work and brushed past me. He turned briefly, looking puzzled. I walked out of the shop too. The fog was returning and I saw a pair of headlights through the mist. The bus approached the stop. I climbed aboard and sat next to the old lady in the pink hat. Keith was sitting on the opposite side of the aisle with his sister. “I saved you a seat,” he said smiling. I noticed that the young driver at the front was driving much slower than the night before. I don’t suppose there was any rush now…