Complex

Ch. 4 - Grand Theft... Bus

T h e r o a r of a bus made me snap my eyes open.  The problem was that it was going a different way than I wanted to go.  I helped the woman onto the bus, surprised that the boys let her go in first.  Then I stepped off and sat back down in the bus stop hut thing.

            About… I'll go ahead and guess fifteen minutes later, another bus showed up, this time going the where I wanted to go.  I got on—reluctantly paid the fare—and flopped into a seat.  I so badly wanted to fall asleep, but then I would miss my stop.  Judging by the street signs, I was three stops away from mine—I could've run them in seconds but… eh.  I watched the people out the window, just to keep my eyes moving.  We were coming through the metropolitan of L.A.  Nothing I hadn't seen before.

            At the next stop, two men came up, followed by a teen girl and what must've been her little brother; there was a similar look of seriousness on their faces as they stepped on.  Judging by their appearance, they were probably in the same situation I was in: homeless.  I suddenly felt sad for her, and especially her little brother.  No home—and no doubt a way to defend themselves.  L.A. was one of the worse places to be homeless in.  She and the brother sat up front, the two men all the way in the back.  At the second stop, a slightly obese woman came up, sitting in the front also.  I pulled on the little rope thing as we approached my stop.  Just when the bus was decelerating, a gun shot fired as people screamed, followed by—

            "Stop this bus!  Anyone with cash fork it over now!"  The two men who'd gotten in earlier were moving along the bus towards the front.  The yeller held up a gun, the second following slowly behind, stopping at each occupied seat with a sack.  The frightened passengers hastily dug around for the little change they had.

            When the man came to me he stopped and lifted an eyebrow.  "You don't have anything, do you, kid?"

            "No.  But I have this."  I kicked him in the nards.  When he bent over, I broke his nose, then punched his throat.  He fell to the ground, grabbing at his neck and coughing.

            The yeller shot the roof again.  "Sit your ass down before I shoot you!"  He didn't lift the gun and point it at me—which was usually expected.

            I stepped over the choker.  "No you won't.  I bet you never killed anyone before, have you?"

            Now he lifted the gun, pointing it at me.  "You don't think I'll do it, kid?" he asked, eyes widening.  "You're a nobody, so nobody'll miss ya."

            I shrugged.  "Maybe not.  But this bus has been parked for a while now, man."  I nodded to the window.  He looked, seeing all the people on the sidewalk watching curiously.  "Looks like you have an audience.  Maybe somebody invited the police too."

            The hand holding the gun started shaking. 

            I reached for the gun when something touched the base of my head, forcing me to freeze.  The guy in front of me smiled.

            "Betcha can't kick me again before I pull the trigger," rasped the guy behind me.  Damn it

            The guy in front went back to being all tough.  "Hand over your money or the kid's brains splatter!"  He'd just reached the girl and her brother in front.  "Hand over your money," he demanded.

            The teen girl had already put the boy behind her, shielding him.  "We don't have any money."  She tried to sound tough, but her voice shook.  She looked about maybe fourteen.