Book 1, Rule 2

Follow Directions & Get Onboard

Statement: This is when the world went crazy. In this I, and an unknown quantity of others, are taken from our homes in the dead of night. In normal situations a tour guide would have human teeth, but these ladies have mouths full of sharp edges and pointed grins. This implies they are carnivorous.

Do I want to know what they eat? Most likely people, but this feels unwise to confirm. There may be an unwritten rule that results in death if I know the wrong details. Still, this entire event strikes me as odd, without long term purpose, and whimsical. Yet, it’s widely impacting, which implies time and effort.

Two weeks later our dad still hadn’t arrived. He had not called. My brother walked around with worry in his voice as other men wore clothes. This probably had more to do with being a father than any sort of filial care.

As for me, insomnia, a wheelchair, and constant doubt about my future kept me company. Physical therapy felt useless and only caused me pain. Dad’s house had too many challenges to getting around for a half-crippled man. I managed to clean some but many places were beyond my reach.

After the accident, my brother offered to house me, but with three children he didn’t have an extra room. My nephews did not need to bunk together when dad’s house sat completely empty.

Savings left over from my job were drying up. I’d finally put in for disability and reviewed healthcare plans but none of them moved quickly enough. The government took forever. Worry kept me up at nights, or the medication they gave me, or pointless pride.

I existed alone, staring out my window at the unkempt lawn. Dark skies overhead were broken by twinkling stars. A full moon smiled down and lit the neighborhood. Soon I’d be out of money, the mortgage would forfeit, and I barely went outside as it was.

The pills kicked in at long last. My head drifted forward. Soon there’d be no more worry. I would sleep and in the morning be one step closer to the end. Whether that end involved dying, getting government approval, or suddenly being healed were all unlikely.

The phone rang. I automatically answered it.

“Hey, Little L.” My brother used an annoying nickname. It barely bothered me. I preferred Little L over the one his little league team used to use.

“Hello,” I responded.

“How was your day?”

Everything existed in a cloud. The dark skies were out of place for central California. Rain would be welcome. Midday buses smelled funny due to old people and sweat. I hoped the nodder, who had been on the door-to-door service bus every single day, would stop wearing as much perfume. I suspected she wore it to drown out the coughing woman’s foul scent.

“I am fine,” I said.

Richard paused. Historically, this meant he was about to ask a question that would be annoying. “Have you heard from Dad?”

Post Note: It was an annoying question. Still, this entire situation will turn out to be more important than you may originally believe. In classical terms we would call this an ‘ill omen.’ People reading this journal should also take note of the following; omens need to be heeded, or else. Learn this quickly.

He had asked me this every night for the last two weeks. The answer remained unchanged but the house kept getting cleaner. Time to straighten out the house was not in short supply. Were my body fully functional, the family home would be even better and I could reseal the kitchen sink.

“I have not. Nothing has changed.”

“Drat. I called him yesterday but he didn’t answer. Maybe it’s me. There’s a lot of people that aren’t answering calls or sick. It’s flu season, I guess. Have you had your shots yet? You know Stella’s too young to be around you if you get a cold.”

I paused and waited for my sister-in-law to say anything. She did not. I assumed Richard called me at night to keep his wife from overhearing in case he triggered her again. Relationships confused me, which is why I remained mostly unattached to anyone.

“I will get shots from the pharmacy, tomorrow.” I took a breath and fought a losing battle against dizziness. “Have you called the police?”

Richard sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I should file a full report. But, they said they will do what they can. I guess dad isn’t the only person missing.”

My fingers idly ran along one of the scars. Richard believed that honoring one’s father also meant looking after him. He loved his family. I would help my brother bury a body, but love felt too strong a word for our relationship.

He noted my silence and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay? I thought they were giving you less drugs. But you’re still not better?”

“It is late at night, and recovery takes time.”

“You okay dropping by tomorrow? Violet thinks you’re dying in a ditch somewhere,” Richard said.

“Tell her I am not dead in a ditch. But it would be best to call back tomorrow. I will need time to wake properly,” I said.

These were rude lies disguised as truth. My brother believed inviting me over helped my mental stability. It did not. Sleep helped when it finally came. Drugs made the pain distant. They turned my entire mind in an absently distracted creation that barely understood time.

Relating to people felt easier before the accident. Now, life conspired to make my already distant personality more detached. This also annoyed me, as did many situations.

My brother kindly let me go. Having an older sibling must be a type of curse. Ancient cultures likely shared warning tales about having too many children. I continued to stare out the window while musing about foolish parents willing have multiple progeny.

The night passed slowly. My surroundings were dull and gray. The clouds overhead rolled while I stared out dad’s wide front room windows. Underneath my feet the carpet tingled. Drugs magnified the feeling and stretched in odd directions. I blinked and the walls flickered.

Drugs caused all sorts of effects. Sanity served as the sole bystander in an effort to pass time quicker. I’d rather be whole and healed while remaining ignorant of all the ways my life could go wrong. Children, teenagers, and perhaps even adults, should never be made aware of how close death sat.

Mom’s passing had been one blow. My accident another. Dad’s abandonment prior to my trip simply compounded problems on top of each other. Life, it turned out, only increased in difficulty.

Time passed unevenly as a diluted perception took note of the storm overhead. Each time I woke from a spurt of sleep, the clouds were in a new position. The bits of fluff formed faces and bodies of people, who danced along a distorted gray backdrop.

An ear shredding noise screeched wildly around the corner. Disjointed music played. I immediately glanced at the clouds, searching for a hint of sunlight to explain the rudeness. Not an ounce poured through.

The streetlamp outside my house flickered and cracked. Sparks faded under a downpour. The rumble of an engine grew. I tightly screwed my eyes shut to block the noise. Naturally, this did not work. Pitch increased yet again another street lamp burst, then three more down the row popped. My television flickered.

A giant double decker bus careered down the road. Brakes howled as the vehicle slammed to a stop. My heartbeat jumped with worry that it might tip over.

But it didn’t. The huge bus stayed upright and the remaining lights on the street sparked as they blew. Power in my house died. A background hum, normally tied with electricity, was replaced by a new noise. Laughter, delighted wildly loud amusement that threatened to drive me mad, filled the empty silence.

“Come one, come all!” a muffled voice from outside shouted.

A woman stood in front of the bus’s main door. Her hair struck me as odd because it was untouched by rain. The poofy do she wore reminded me of old family comedy shows from the sixties. Her clothes were a dull blue only visible because of the light inside the vehicle.

“Hurry along! Come on! Those who wander are losers!”

“You can stay if you want, but I don’t recommend it. This place is sure to attract the wrong kind of attention soon.” A second woman had appeared next to the first. They were identical. I wondered how such a thing was possible and realized they might be twins.

The rain cleared away making their bus shine like a beacon. A third woman sat on the top, and how she got there I did not see. They all wore the same blue and white clothing. They reminded me of airline stewardesses, but rode on a bus.

This entire event made no sense. Triplets showing up out of nowhere was a statistical improbability. The more likely answer was extreme makeup or surgery. I swung with dizziness. The drugs were screwing with me. A giggling noise echoed right behind me, and when I turned it became obvious how dark dad’s house had become.

I’d never felt more alone, or scared. Heavy doses of medication kept me in a numbed state. The corners were darker and it seemed as though tiny creatures skittered across the walls that paused to stare at me. But such a thing would be impossible. Realism did not loosen my tensing shoulders, but medication did.

Post Note: At the time, I believed this to be a dream, or drug-fueled nightmare. It was not. Having an analytical and detached outlook does not equate to intelligence. In my defense, no one expects such nonsense to derail the world.

My neck locked, leaving me facing a corner of the room. A shadow there moved in a way that reminded me of a man smiling. Suddenly the depths of my house were alien. I blinked, reminded myself to tighten my groin, and recalled the house should be empty. The delusion resulted from deep pain in my hip and torn muscles still on the mend.

“There’s money to be had! All those joining us on the tour bus will get free money! Six hundred moneys just for joining us on a relatively short trip,” the woman excitedly yelled.

I turned quickly but couldn’t ignore the feeling of disconnect with the location. The abrupt change, both in my house and outside in the neighborhood, made my skin crawl. Power outages had happened before. Summers were full of them, hot, dry, and without a spark of electricity.

“This is a dream,” I said quietly.

One of the women looked across the street at me. She crooked a finger while smiling.

“Come on, everyone, quickly, or be lost forever,” the first one shouted. She bent at the waist and pulled her arms back and stomped in joy.

My head dropped again. I took steadying breaths to assist in separating out the sensations. The bus honked. I lifted my head. People left their houses and walked toward the giant double decker parked in the street.

They muttered to each other. I could hear them better because I’d opened my own door. The street was full of people in pajamas. Many wore stupefied expressions.

“Isn’t this exciting, everyone?” The woman’s voice reminded me of a peppy tour guide cheering us on. “Come on. Come on, everyone!”

“No exceptions now!” Her friend sounded much the same. I could not tell the difference between of them. They were busy smiling at people and handing out money. People had skeptical expressions but came closer.

I grabbed crutches from near the door and propped myself up. No other disabled individuals were going to the bus and the slight hill in front of my house and partial sedation would make using the wheelchair dangerous. The sky remained cloudy but the rain had stopped. A clear and disturbingly perfect path down the hill helped show me where to plant the crutches.

“There are lots of prizes for winners. Participation prizes, free money, you all like money right? Plus you won’t be a quitter. Simply get on the vessel and join us for a chance at a lifetime.” Their cheery encouragement continued unabated.

It felt as if my feet were gliding along the ground. Even after noticing, I continued crutching over with freakish ease. My body wanted to go to the giant bus that filled the entire street. Cars were crushed to make room for the vehicle. Slick liquid dribbled off the tires but the color couldn’t be determined. The lights on the bus continued to flicker, as a bonfire might.

“Form an orderly line, everyone.” I did, taking up a spot near the end. More people filed in behind me as the woman continued speaking. “Those stepping outside of the lines will be treated as quitters. Quitters never win! Plus everyone will need the practice. There’s a long line ahead, but it’s so worth it.” Her voice didn’t feel as amplified as a loudspeaker. Despite the lack of assistance, their words projected clearly.

“The chance at a lifetime! Money for everyone, free to spend for great items,” she said.

Ahead, a man shouted with a slight drawl, “Y’all are weird. Don’t you mean ‘of a lifetime’?”

Their conversation threw me for a loop. Drugs kept me dull but my steps faltered. The lit path faded. Rain sputtered as the halo surrounding this strange vehicle dimmed.

I glanced over a shoulder. The wheelchair sat in my door. It spun slightly in the open doorway. Then the wheelchair caught a gust of wind and rolled back into the house’s lightless depths. I adjusted my crutches to go back and figure out what had happened. A second gust slammed the door shut. I stood there wondering what sort of madness this dream had spun from.

“Not at all! But well asked.”

My vision slipped away from noticing the important details. Holding my body up grew harder with each step. I took labored breaths and continued to the bus.

“Holy shit, twenty bucks for asking a question?” The man shoved his fresh cash into a pocket and eyed our neighbors.

I struggled to keep up with the line. Dozens of people were on the bus. The exact number was impossible to tally, at least for me. Once inside it would be easier to see. Out here, I could only worry there might not be room.

“Don’t you mean of a lifetime?” another man repeated with a raised eyebrow. People piled on, and most of us wore the wrong clothes for a night jaunt. I wanted to go back to the comfort of my house, but that had been robbed. The house would be there, untouched until I got back.

Post Note: I knew this, but couldn’t say why I knew this. It would not be touched by another person. I’ll explain later.

Crutches crushed skin under my armpits. In front of me a family with three children fidgeted. Their movements wild, eyes wide, and they kept saying stuff to their parents which I didn’t hear. The crowd moved onward while the others continued to talk.

“How come he got money for asking a question? Why didn’t I?”

“Repeating words with no thought makes you a bird, and birds don’t need money. Thusly, Adamschild, we don’t pay for the same observation twice. Furthermore, as a warning to you dear departing, pointing it out too often has consequences. Remember that, everyone. There is money to be had, and a price for everything. Abuse will not be tolerated.” Compared to the children, the stewardess’ voices were extremely clear.

“Not from you lot,” another triplet said.

While she talked, I walked. Another three had gone onto the bus.

“From who then?” I whispered quietly, struggling to keep up.

One of the three stewardess turned in my direction. I tensed. Her eyes a distinct green color, bright and nearly glowing. She smiled, revealing a set of sharpened teeth that were wholly inhuman. The woman walked down the orderly line toward me, gave me a once over and paused. Something set her off.

Post Note: The sheer lack of any noise besides our talking played a factor. I look back on this and realize that we, none of us, were thinking clearly. We should have found the following items odd enough to stay away: heralding explosions from street lamps, lured with money, the realization that children came with us in their pajamas, a lack of nature ambiance, and many other items.

“You’re not like us, are you?” I asked quietly. Pain, drugs, and confusion made me want to stop moving entirely. Still, I functioned enough to be aware this situation wasn’t right. They weren’t normal. Their teeth, eyes, and attitudes pointed to something inhuman. That, or I was in a strange dream.

Movement caught my eyes. Things crawled between the other peoples’ houses. They were not people or dogs. None of the neighborhood animals were present at all.

One of the triplets stood in front of me with her absurd green eyes. She smiled, then stuffed two ten dollar bills into my jacket pocket. I only got a glance at them, long enough to wonder when my jacket had been put on.

She placed a hand on my chest, carefully avoiding the crutches, stood on tippy toes, and whispered in my ear, “A free tip, for being so broken but risking more. Questions can be dangerous to ask. Answers as dangerous to find. Be careful, be quiet, be secretive, and you may survive.”

Her teeth and eyes reminded me of wolves from documentaries. She smelled like a forest after rain should smell. Wild and full of scents that city people would dream about but never truly catch a whiff. I shook and opened my mouth to ask what she meant.

She stepped back and waggled a finger at me while clicking her tongue. “Now! It’s time to go!” She strode down the aisle of seats, putting an extra amount of wiggle into her hips.

It distracted me but wasn’t responsible for my quickened pulse. This place was not normal. I limped down the aisle, and honestly couldn’t remember what the front of the bus looked like. Hundreds of people were on the bus, but they too slipped my mind. I found a seat, sat down, and placed my crutches between my legs.

The bus lights weren’t lightbulbs. They were small fires inside glass jars and hung from the ceiling. Stairs leading down were to my right, which made no sense because this bus only had two floors. This entire bus had turned extremely fantastical and it bothered me. I sat across from an exit. The letters E-XI-T glowed a taunting blue that stood out against the darkness.

Post Note: I did not remember getting on the bus. I did not exit the bus. This is apparent since my journal continues, but I wanted to ensure it was noted, specifically, that I did not exit the bus despite a clear warning sign.

Inquiry: What would have happened if I exited?

Speculation: I dare not guess. Exits will prove questionable at best.

The huge double decker vehicle peeled out. Wheels screeched but didn’t get purchase. We fishtailed and people scrambled to grab handrails. I closed my eyes as we swayed.

A member of the trio spoke over the speakers, “You’re all doing so well. Everyone here can be a real winner. But if you want off the bus just say so. Until then, my friend will be coming around to you, offering money in exchange for items you own. This is a good time to earn some money.” She closed her statement with an excited squeal.

Dizziness pulled my mind away. I reread the letters E-X-I-T again and again, but thought no more of the stairs leading down or our vehicle’s ridiculous number of seats. Those were unimportant.