The bus was still moving when the road changed.
One minute, the Eastlands-Meru Express Shuttle was cruising down a familiar highway, headlights cutting through the dark, passengers half-asleep or pretending to be.
The next—
The tarmac was gone.
Nobody had noticed the turn. No one saw the road change from cracked asphalt to smooth, almost ancient stone. Even the air felt wrong—thicker, like a place that hadn’t been disturbed in a very long time.
“Uhhh… has this road always been here?”
Every head snapped toward the driver.
Not what you want to hear from the one person responsible for knowing where the hell you're going.
The bus slowed to a crawl. Tall trees lined the road, their branches hanging low, the darkness between them too deep. No signposts. No landmarks.
Just… nothing.
And then—
BANG.
The bus shuddered. The engine gave one last, pitiful cough.
Dead.
Silence.
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Twenty-one strangers stared at each other.
Then, slowly—
“So. Who's gonna say it?”
That came from Brenda, sitting near the front. Bold red jacket. Arms crossed. Exuding ‘I am not paid enough for this’ energy, despite not actually being paid at all.
No one answered.
“Fine. I’ll say it.” She sighed. “We’re in a horror movie.”
The driver twisted the key, trying to restart the bus. Nothing. He tried again. Click. Again. Click-click.
“Alright, relax,” said Hassan, a guy with expensive sunglasses on at night for no good reason. “A bus breaking down is not a horror movie.”
“A bus breaking down in the middle of an unknown road that no one remembers turning onto?” Brenda raised an eyebrow. “That’s Act One, Hassan.”
Silence.
Then—
"Could be ghosts."
The voice belonged to Ezekiel Mulwa, a man in a wrinkled suit who looked like he had never won an argument but refused to stop trying.
He nodded at something outside.
Everyone turned.
There, just beyond the flickering headlights, sat a black cat.
Watching them.
Unblinking.
“Bad omen.” Ezekiel said gravely.
“It’s a cat, dude.” Hassan rolled his eyes.
“Yeah? Tell that to ancient Egyptians.”
“Ancient Egyptians worshipped cats.”
“Exactly.”
“…What?”
Ezekiel didn’t clarify.
Instead, he leaned back, completely satisfied with whatever point he thought he had made.
The cat yawned, stretched, and disappeared into the trees.
No one said it, but they all felt a little worse now.
The driver got up, rubbing his temples. “Alright. Bus is dead. Phones have no signal. Anyone got ideas?”
“Yes.”
Everyone turned to the tall, lanky guy in a neon yellow shirt that read:
"ASK ME ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD!"
No one asked.
“We could be inside a supernatural time loop.” He adjusted his glasses. “It’s possible we’re the ghosts and don’t know it.”
“No.”
Brenda shut that down immediately.
“Could be an abandoned government project.” Someone else chimed in. “Like… y’know, mind control experiments.”
“Oh, great.” Hassan groaned. “So we’re ghosts in a government time loop? How do we escape? Sign a resignation letter?”
A few chuckles. But underneath it, a quiet unease.
Because as ridiculous as it sounded…
Nobody could explain where they were.
The bus should’ve broken down on a main highway. Not here.
And why was it so silent?
No wind. No crickets. Nothing.
Then, the bus lights flickered.
For a split second, something stood between the trees.
Still. Watching.
Then—gone.
Brenda’s breath hitched. Did anyone else—?
She looked around. The others were tense, but no one spoke.
Either they didn’t see it… or they didn’t want to admit they had.
The driver sighed. "Alright. We need to find help."
He pointed up ahead. A dim glow in the distance.
“There’s a town up there.”
A pause.
Then—
“Well, that’s definitely haunted.”
Hassan, again.
“Oh, shut up and walk.”
And just like that, twenty-one mismatched strangers stepped into the unknown, carrying their wild theories, clashing personalities, and growing suspicion with them.
Not knowing that some of their insane guesses… were about to come true.