1:10 PM. Wednesday, 12th.
Williams dragged his fingers through his hair and groaned. He turned away from the businessman still pressing charges over the girl. He didn't have time for entitled people.
The passengers from his bus huddled together, passing empty comfort from one to the next.
Francis—the dead boy from earlier—had been dragged out of view by his mother. She sat on the ground now, arms still locked around him.
What ran through Williams' mind was logistics. A dozen passengers. A road. A truck. Get them out of this… forest.
Odd, Williams thought. He'd driven Port Harcourt to Lagos a hundred times. He'd never noticed this forest. For something this big, this distinct, it was impossible to miss.
So...how had he missed it?
A chill wind slipped past him and tugged at his clothes. The smell that rode it was wrong. Rotten.
Williams raised his palm to his nose, blocking out the offensive odour. Around him, the passengers did the same.
Where was that coming from?
The wind strengthened. Sand stung his eyes and skin. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but his lips wouldn't move.
Glued shut.
He tried again. Still shut. Only muffled grunts came out. Fear shot through him and he clawed at his mouth with his free hand. Nothing.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the wind died. The smell vanished.
Williams dropped his hand and sniffed. The air was clean.
He tried to speak and his lips parted.
"No!"
A shriek ripped him from the moment. He ran toward the passengers.
The woman whose son had died was writhing near a tree, arms wrapped around her chest.
"Where's Francis?" Williams asked the closest person—a petite girl.
"I don't know. One moment he was here. Then he wasn't."
Williams glanced at the old woman, then back at the girl.
"It was after the wind," she continued. "She was on the ground with him. Then the wind came. And she was just… alone."
"First our luggage," the businessman cut in, arms folded. His eyes stayed on the wailing woman. "And now a missing dead child. You have to find that road, driver. Or I'm pressing charges against you for leading us into a death trap."
Williams didn't get to respond. Another scream tore through the crowd. He turned.
One problem at a time, he wanted to yell. But it was the girl from his bus walking toward him.
Only it wasn't just her.
She had two strangers with her. Neither was from his bus.
1:30 PM. Wednesday, 12th.
Williams glanced at the elderly woman again. She was no longer crying where she sat beneath a tree. Her arms wrapped around empty air as she rocked slowly from side to side.
Like Francis was still there.
The passengers around her exchanged uneasy glances but nobody moved closer.
Somehow, Williams felt that Francis was gone, not just dead. And that made his skin crawl.
"Ma'am." He called carefully.
She didn't respond.
"Ma'am."
Still nothing.
Her lips moved faintly. She was whispering something to herself.
Williams took a step forward crouching beside her. That's when he heard her clearly.
"He's still here. He's still standing here."
Williams expression turned soft with empathy. It sounded like the woman didn't want to accept the fact that her son was gone.
"Francis is gone, ma'am. I'm sorry." He placed his hand on her arm.
The more he repeated that sentence, the more confused he got. Why did the boy disappear right after that wind stopped?
The woman stopped rocking and slowly, very slowly, she lifted her head.
Williams drew back.
Her eyes settled on him then drifted past.
Her expression softened.
"Francis." she whispered.
Williams turned. There was nothing behind him except for the trees and a few passengers pacing. Probably trying to figure out what the heck was going on.
When he looked back at her, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
"Don't leave," she pleaded. "Please."
Some of the passengers standing close to them caught what she was saying and began shifting away out of fear.
The same fear settled in Williams bones.
What was she seeing that they weren't?
________
After some convincing, a few passengers pulled out what was salvageable from the bus. Clothes, bags, anything soft. They spread it on the ground in segments and sat.
When everyone in his segment had settled— which was the girl and her two strangers, the business man and the boy in hoody that helped Williams before— Williams spoke.
"Where did you go?" He looked at the girl who'd run off earlier.
She was perched between the boy and lady she'd returned with.
"I was looking for the road. A way home."
"Did you find it?"
"No."
Williams turned to the boy. "And who are you?" He could still hear the mourning woman's whimpers. At least she wasn't seeing anything again but neither did she join them, so he'd found her something like a blanket. The petite girl offered to stay with her.
"I'm Winn," the boy said. "And this is Judith." He gestured to the lady beside him. Their clothes were dusty. Maybe from the wind. "Seraphina told us her bus crashed here. We thought it was purely coincidence. Our bus crashed here too."
"We were looking for the road when we found Phina," Judith added.
So the suicidal girl was Seraphina. Williams realized he didn't know any of his passengers' names. He made a mental note to learn them.
"Wait," the businessman interrupted. "You're telling me there's another bus in this forest?"
"That's what they just said," Williams shot back. "Where were you headed?"
"Port Harcourt," Judith said.
Williams frowned. That didn't make sense. "That's impossible."
Judith crossed her arms. "Why?"
"Because we were headed to Lagos."
"So?"
"So the routes don't overlap."
The businessman scoffed. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Williams said trying his best to keep the irritation from his voice. "that if they left Port Harcourt and we left this route, we shouldn't be in the same place."
Judith's expression darkened. "Then one of us is wrong."
"No." Williams shook his head immediately. "Neither of us is wrong."
Silence followed. The realisation settling in like a fog.
The business man laughed. "Maybe our buses crashed a few kilometres apart."
"Then why are we in the same forest?" Judith asked.
Nobody answered. What could they say? Not one of them knew this place they had found themselves in.
That's when Williams realised it.
He hadn't heard traffic since. Not even a single horn.
A forest this close to a major road should have carried sound.
Yet all they ever heard was wind.
"When you were out there did you hear cars—" Williams ventured to ask but he couldn't get his question out before a migraine hit him.
Blue lights.
White walls.
The image flashed through Williams' mind so suddenly he nearly doubled over.
Then pain exploded behind his temple.
Williams cried out and grabbed his head.
The migraine hit harder than before.
Like something was trying to claw its way out from inside his skull.
"Can someone make a fire? I'm cold."
The voice sounded distant.
Williams looked up but nobody was looking at him.
Nobody had reacted.
They continued talking amongst themselves.
The businessman was arguing with Seraphina and the boy in hoody.
Judith sat lost in thought.
Winn was saying something Williams couldn't hear.
The world had become muffled.
A tap landed on his shoulder. He spun around and what he saw made him jerk away, landing on the ground.
It was himself. Same clothes. Same face. But something was wrong.
"Williams," the other him said. "Just give in. There's no way home."
"Who are you?"
The other Williams smiled.
"You already know."
"Williams!" The voice came from somewhere far away.
He looked back to his seat. His body sat there, somehow faint, staring at the ground. Silent. Hands clasped. Head bowed.
"Williams!"
Williams blinked. He was back on the cloth. Head lowered. Hands clasped. Like he'd never moved.
Nobody seemed to have noticed anything.
"Hey, driver. Do you know how to make a fire? I'm freezing."
Williams stared at Seraphina. "A fire? It's hot."
"What?" She frowned.
"We'll save the fire for night."
She blinked then glanced at Winn and Judith. They looked...surprised by his answer.
"Sorry," Seraphina said slowly. "But didn't the rain drench you?"
"Rain?" He paused. "When did it rain?"