Henry boarded the bus. Two women sat talking in the front plush seats of the gleaming vehicle. From the windows, Henry could see dread in the sky.

“Rain is coming,” the first woman said.

“Yes, it is,” the second woman responded.

Henry sat in the back where all the seats were empty. He preferred this, though he felt a longing for attention, more than demands at work offered. How long had it been since he’d felt the touch of another? Today was especially trying after the incident in the company lunchroom when a group of young interns taunted him as they walked past, with their bulging packages and shapely asses, while Henry sat alone at a table eating his sack lunch.

Fully boarded, the bus took off and left the terminal. Snaking through the maze of pounding construction, they entered the lower level of the bridge. Above them thousands of tons of traffic headed west on the upper deck as they traveled east into the shadows just below. Henry looked out his window. Beneath was the City with its limbs extended into the deep green and gray water. He enjoyed being up this high.

As the bus slowed for traffic, Henry noticed the tall sign that read, “Absolutely No Stopping”. Nothing except a moving vehicle could be on the bridge, but that didn’t stop desperate lonely hearts from sneaking on and ending it all. Suddenly, a curious movement compelled Henry to look across and up. A figure sat well above the stalled cars atop a metal beam. He was hooded, and dangled powerful arms, sooty fingers, mammoth feet, and naked toes. Henry’s heart pounded. Traffic continued, and Henry dashed to an empty seat across the aisle to better see. The figure responded to his movement with a violent twist of the neck, and Henry could feel its gaze piercing the shadows of the cowl. It was staring at him. Henry strained to look back as much as he could through fogged glass before they parted for good.

Later, Henry passed garbage, squalor, and noise and entered his lonely, dark apartment. The fishy odors of unwashed dishes and dust aglow from errant daylight could not distract him. He saw me, Henry said. He shed his clothes, which still stank of perfumes and stale coffee from the office, and touched his firm erection. He worked himself and felt the floorboard squeak under his naked feet, and he wondered at sensations of cool metal pressed under one’s haunches.

Henry boarded the bus. The sky promised rain, but none had yet fallen. The two women spoke as they settled into the front two seats.

“Surely tonight,” the first woman said.

“Or tomorrow,” the second woman responded.

Ignoring them, Henry hurried impatiently to the back to where all the seats were empty. The bus seemed to take forever to leave, but the driver finally closed the doors and they disembarked. They passed giant nests of twisted metal and finally joined eastbound traffic onto the bridge. The water underneath seemed less green and much murkier, and the City was wrapped in fog.

Henry stood with his digital camera and looked madly above. The bus was moving rapidly, but traffic snarled and they lurched to a stop. He smiled. There was the figure, way up high. Henry pointed the lens and tried to center the shot, but his target moved and Henry lost him. As he searched in the distance, a taut, capricious face with sea-green eyes, square jaw, and high cheekbones peered at him, suddenly licking the smoky glass of his window, somehow holding himself upside-down from the roof of the bus. Startled, Henry jumped, and the camera went off with an unintended flash. When the bus moved forward, Henry was alone again. A frantic search through the camera’s view screen brought up the photo, but he’d only captured his own shocked reflection. All this went unobserved by the other passengers who were lulled to sleep in the front.

Once home, Henry ignored the neighbors’ screaming argument and the police sirens outside. Instead, he shut his door and tore off his clothes. There was something in those eyes, he thought, something yearning for him. Turning on cold bath water, Henry pulled at his aching testicles and tried to decide what to do.

Henry boarded the bus. It was sunny, no rain in sight. He passed by vacant seats. In fact, today the whole bus was empty, save for himself and the dapper driver, who studied a clipboard. How odd, Henry thought, settling into his seat in back.

His heart raced when they took off for the bridge and he still was the only passenger. He considered going up front to talk with the driver, but he decided to just sit back and enjoy the ride. He smiled as sun streamed in, warming his face. Looking out the window, there was hardly any traffic. It was all the more odd when the driver slowed to a complete stop, and opened the door.

“Bay Bridge,” he announced over the intercom.

“Uh, excuse me?” Henry asked, but smiled in delight. Once Henry set foot on the bridge, the driver shut the doors and drove off. Henry held his breath and looked up.

A coal-black angel smiled down on him, fingers extended, words sweet in Henry’s mind. The creature’s indigo lips promised to caress every part of him, to suckle him and nurture every wound. The horn’s blare was all the more startling as a semi careened into Henry and flung him over the edge of the bridge into darkness. The alarm clock rattled off at six a.m., and Henry snapped bolt upright in his bed, rain spattering against his window outside. The message was clear as could be. He knew now what to do.

Henry boarded the bus. It was raining fiercely, and he had left his umbrella at the office. He passed by the chattering passengers.

“It’s going to flood,” the first woman said.

“I hear it may never let up,” the second woman responded.

Henry clutched his damp backpack and settled in the rear. No one looked at him as he opened his bag and pulled out the bomb. The bus seemed well on its way far too quickly. Before anyone could notice the rainwater cascading off the City’s towers or the green churning of the bay, Henry stood and shouted for the bus to stop.

The driver looked up at the commotion. Henry held up his ticking contraption, and the driver brought the bus to a halt. Henry was shaking when he made his way to the front, sweat and rain dripping off his face, but his voice was steady and clear. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wanted off, he explained in a confident shout. The doors parted and Henry leapt between the cars and trucks. He dropped the red cardboard glued to an alarm clock, and it broke apart on the pavement. He felt all eyes on him, but he only sought the gaze of one. Looking up, he sensed something behind him. There, hanging from one arm was the hooded figure, his biceps flexed, his rough and blackened hand outstretched.

Henry reached up and felt himself lifted like a little boy, and was soon enveloped in the soft folds of the cowl. He shivered under the creature’s tender, sinuous embrace, pressed himself against him, hands finding his massive penis, and Henry inhaled musky odors he would know from then on. And, just as quick as a breath, they tumbled over the side in one joint movement, and Henry knew he’d never be lonely again.

George boarded the bus. His wife had been nagging him about spending too much on parking, and so he made this switch to appease her. Two female passengers, a plump Asian and a stout African American, chatted in the front of the bus as he walked by.

“Had to have been a suicide,” the Asian woman said.

“They never found the body,” the African American woman responded.

The driver, a thin Hispanic gentleman, turned and said, “Ladies, please. You’re disturbing the other passengers. It’s been four weeks now. Let it drop.”

George knew nothing about this as he settled into the back, which he had all to himself, and pulled out a newspaper. Before he knew it, they were on their way. After a few moments, he looked up from his financials to get a view. The City sparkled in the sunshine, and the water was dappled and blue. Two seagulls sailed alongside his window, keeping pace with the bus. George couldn’t help but smile at this, and knew his wife would be pleased that he found something positive about the indignity of riding a bus. The bus slowed, and rhythmic motion made him look across to an alcove above. There he saw two figures--one huge, the other smaller, both barefooted, ragged, and grimy with arms entwined and tongues running all along their exposed erections. “Jesus!” George exclaimed as the bus cruised by, color draining from his face. He loosened his tie, considered the pair a moment more, then vowed to take the subway home from then on.

 

© 2004 Jim Schutte - Contributor's Bio