The Eldritch Bus

Narrations Here
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All I can do now is distract myself through writing. I don’t know if waiting it out is my only option, or if I should do something drastic. With every second that passes, I can’t help but think that this bus will be my tomb either way. I don’t feel that I’m pressed for time, in fact, I feel oddly soothed. I’ll give a bit of backstory, for perspective.
Like many other city-living commuters, waiting for the bus was a fairly common occurrence for me. The trains didn’t run early in the morning (when I went to work). Often enough, I’d check the app, which said the same thing as the bus stop schedule. The bus would be arriving imminently, one to two minutes.
One minute would pass. Then two. Then three.
It’s not infrequent that the city buses are late with no real explanation as to why. What’s rare, however, is when they simply don’t arrive at all. I’d check my app over and over again, only to find that allegedly the bus had come and gone. News to me, and the two other people waiting, as the roads were quiet and there would have been no way we could have missed it. I’d jokingly refer to these buses as eldritch buses (little did I truly know).
Although not a totally common occurrence, it wasn’t anything I’ve ever given a second thought to, beyond fuming about being late. Typically I’d brush it off as the same crap transit service I grew up with in Toronto. At worst, I’d cuss and see the same displeasure reflected back at me in the faces of the other impatient commuters, as they too would check their phones in vain. I had no cause to care beyond my wasted time. That is, until I ended up seeing what happened to those missing buses.
Today, I got on the bus as normal. Around 5:00 AM on a Sunday. It was that late point in summer, when the days are hot and humid, but the early hours of the morning are cool. There tends to be quite a bit of fog, and you see the condensation has formed on the windows of quiet cars and dark storefronts.
As the bus rolled up, I saw the yellowish white glow of the fluorescent lights through the moisture laden windows, piercing the darkness like a dull knife. The driver had that vacant end-of-the-shift, look on his face. He probably wouldn’t have noticed whether or not anyone even paid their fare.
As I stepped up to board, the only other person waiting with me shoved passed rudely. Probably desperate for a seat, likely to pass out and miss their stop. I didn’t think much of it, it was too early to really kick up a stink anyways.
Strangely, the bus was far less occupied than usual. In fact, there was only one other passenger on it.
As the trains don’t operate at this time, it’s rare that I would see an open seat, let alone snag one.
I didn’t really care much about the why, I was just happy to get a rare, coveted seat for my as-of-yet caffeinated arse. I sat near the back, so as to keep the way clear for new people coming on.
The bus trotted along as usual, through the dark August morning. I tried to look out the windows, as I tend to get motion sickness easily. Unfortunately, due to the condensation I was out of luck. I dared to look down at my phone only to realize the commute that should have taken twenty minutes, had been going for almost thirty. Frustrated, I checked the app to see the expected time of arrival at my stop.
Three minutes.
Not much I could have done other than stew in my anger.
Five minutes later, I checked once more.
Three minutes, again.
Absolutely furious at that point, I stood up to gripe at the driver, but realized the bus wasn’t moving at all…
We weren’t stopped at a light, so far as I could tell. But it felt like the bus's wheels were in motion. The engine was working hard as if desperately trying to accelerate, but we were definitely not moving. I looked back down at the app on my phone.
Zero minutes.
Then it started to display the time for the next bus. We’d glided straight through the stop.
I ran up to the front of the bus to get the driver to let me off immediately, but stopped as I noticed something incredibly peculiar.
I couldn’t see a single thing through the front window.
I hadn’t paid any attention to the front windows until then, but there’s no way in hell the driver could see through all the thick, creamy mist. And yet, the engine was still roaring.
As I turned to the driver, I noticed he was unconscious, foot off the pedal. I tried to shake him awake, but he wouldn’t rouse. He was stiff and cold, almost cadaverous. If it wasn’t for the wisps of breath I saw emerging from his slacked mouth, I’d have been convinced he was dead.
I turned around to voice my concern to the other two passengers, but saw they were out cold too.
All thoughts of getting to work on time had completely gone out the window. Fumbling for my phone, I tried to make a call. Someone. Anyone. I tried to call my wife’s number, but the call failed. No service.
Out of options, but struggling in futility, I tried calling again. No luck. Trying not to panic, attempting to think of what to do next, I pondered "Why have I not tried to leave the bus?". 
I suppose it was because I was scared. There was a haunting nag of uncertainty in the back of my mind. A fear of dealing with the unknown. Dealing with it all alone.
Pressing my palm against the window of the bus door, it was cool. Far too cold to have matched the ambient temperature when I first left my home. By that point it was almost 630 AM. If anything, it should have been warming up outside.
I forced the front folding door open, only to be overwhelmed by a vile, acrid scent. The viscous, almost gelatinous fog started to pour in. Desperately, I slammed the door closed as quickly as I could, gagging and choking on the permeating ‘air’. I raced back to my previous seat, and put my head in my hands.
"What the hell do I do now?"
I tried to reason with myself that it was all some kind of delusion, a dream. But the stinging feeling in my sinuses from the fog reassured me that I was very much awake. Although I began to feel somewhat drowsy. More so than normal, during my early commutes.
I knew I had to fight the urge to sleep. I was the only one on the bus who somehow managed to maintain consciousness. Every time my eyelids felt too heavy to bear, and I’d almost lose the fight against unconsciousness, I’d hear the faintest whisper come from all around me. It'd spook me halfway back to attention.
As my eyelids felt heavier and heavier, the whispers losing their stimulating effect, I thought for sure I was done resisting.
Then I heard a huge thump.
The bus rocked back and forth.
Against the window next to the rude dude who shoved me earlier, I saw there was damage to the glass from a significant impact. A web-like ripple, but strangely obscured.
Upon further inspection, there was some kind of fluid, or slime on the exterior of the glass. 
As I slowly moved closer to examine it, another massive thump sent me reeling backwards. 
Whatever it was, it hit like a baseball bat, or golf club. It didn’t look like anything I knew though. It looked like a fat, flattened hose. I only saw it for a second, but it was enough to know there was something out there. Whatever the hell it was, it was trying to get to the rude guy.
I worked up my courage, ran up, grabbed him, and dragged him to the back.
No more thumps so far.
I decided to do the same with all the other occupants. The back area was much harder to see into from the outside, as the windows are much smaller. Hopefully whatever was out there would simply give up.
I checked my watch. It was 730 at this point.
No thumps since I dragged everyone to the back.
I decided to look around, maybe see if I could make out anything else in the fog.
I noticed something dark against the window on the left hand side. Hesitant to approach the windows too closely, I tried to study it from afar. It looked like a big mouth, like one of those fish that suck the glass in fish tanks, I don't remember what they call them a suckermouth catfish. Except this had several rows of and a massive body. More like an overgrown lamprey… as if they weren’t creepy enough at their normal size.
Wondering what the hell to do now, not wanting to attract any more attention to the bus, I remembered my notepad in my bag. I pulled it out, and began to write all of this down. To help distract myself, and to stay calm.
I watched the mysterious leech for a while, between thinking of all the details to add to my writings.
I’ve lost track of time. I still feel torn between feeling like I’m going to pass out, and being too jacked up on pure terror to sit.
I looked again into its maw, it was almost hypnotic. The rows of teeth were orchestrated very strangely, almost like a psychedelic spiral, but dark and macabre. It became difficult to look away.
Another huge crash interrupted my gaze into that abyss.
Something huge collided with the bus, rocking it back and forth, worse than the previous thumps. Something big, bigger than the lamprey, slammed right on top of it and snatched it away.
I couldn’t see at all what it was, but all that was left behind was a smear of whatever juices ran through the lamprey's body, and another huge web-like crack in the glass. Only this one looked more severe.
It wasn’t until I smelled that sour stinging scent again that I took notice. The fog was seeping in through the cracks. It was only a matter of time before the bus would be filled.
I had no idea what I could use to block it. I rifled through my backpack, and the belongings of my unconscious bus mates with very little luck. The driver had some cheap chewing gum in his rear pocket. Better than nothing. I put every piece in my mouth and started to hastily chew. I then attempted to smear the sticky gob over as much of the cracks as I could.
I'm now caught up to the present moment in my writing.
The whispers have come back. They make it hard to write, I wish I could understand what they were saying.
By now I can tell that it is brighter outside the bus. The fog has a gooey off-white appearance, almost a little purple. I hadn’t even noticed at what point the bus engine had stopped, but the lights inside are off now.
I just looked up from my writing, only for a second. What I saw briefly paralyzed me.
There are shadows in the fog. All sorts of strange figures, ranging in size from the average human, to that of an elephant, some of indescribable shapes. It feels like the bus is surrounded by these shadows, on all sides.
Like a cockroach scurrying for sanctuary, I'm now sitting partially under the seats, next to my unconscious companions. To whatever these creatures are, I am little more than a fearful insect, hiding for dear life.
Everything just got significantly brighter. The bus is jostling. It feels like an earthquake. I see the previous shadowy forms edging away, out front. The light begins to dim.
I had to pause from writing for a few minutes. It was too dark to see my page. We were in the shadow of something massive. But it's passed now.
The mist has eaten away at the gum-sealed crack. It’s making its way in again.
I don’t know if I hope that someone finds this notepad, or if I’d rather that no one ever know about this hellish dimension I’ve fallen prey to. I can see the shadows moving again in the distance.
Closing in.
Moving faster.
The whispers are so loud now, like screams, but I still can’t understand, I want to understand!
I have no hope here, in this place. I’m so lonely, but I don’t feel as scared as I did before. If anyone finds my writing, finds themselves trapped as I am, don’t be scared. It gets easier.
I’m going to try to leave through the emergency exit hatch on the roof of the bus, maybe it will give me a vantage. I need to go out there, I don’t know why, but I think that’s what the whispers want. I think they're trying to help me.
I don’t remember why I was afraid anymore. I don’t even really remember what fear felt like.
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