A Town Gone Dark: Vanishing Innocence

Chapter Three

The boys had settled into their seats, some succumbing to slumber while others remained awake, engrossed in their devices. Coach Hale and Mr. George, mindful of their responsibility, stayed awake, keeping a watchful eye on the teenage boys. Oblivious to their surroundings, none of them noticed as the bus driver veered off the expected route, pulling into a deserted parking lot adjacent to an abandoned convenience store. The sudden stop and the silence that followed caught their attention.

Those who were awake peered out the window, assuming they had reached their destination, only to realize that something was amiss. Coach Hale was the first to break the silence, questioning the bus driver, "Is something wrong?"

The driver's response was apologetic, "I'm sorry, but I believe we have a flat tire." He unbuckled his seat belt and stood up, preparing to assess the situation. Mr. George, growing concerned, attempted to contact Principal Walsh but discovered that there was no cell service in their current location.

Disappointed by their lack of communication, Mr. George turned to the boys and asked if any of them had a signal, only to be met with the same disappointing result—no bars. With limited options, the driver requested the assistance of Coach Hale and Mr. George, leaving the now-awake teens instructed to remain on the bus and call out if they needed anything.

The three men disembarked from the bus, the bus driver making sure to close the doors once outside. Their footsteps sounded heavy in the desolate surrounding as they reached the rear of the bus, where the presumed flat tire awaited them, the situation took an unsettling turn. Before anyone could propose a solution, two black SUVs abruptly pulled up alongside the bus, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the scene.

Inside the bus, the teens noticed the arrival of the vehicles, their attention drawn to the newfound presence. Kalix, filled with curiosity and a hint of concern, made his way to the back door and peered out the window, observing the men emerging from the SUVs. "Uh, guys, there's a group of men getting out of black SUVs," he called out to the other boys.

Before the boys could formulate a plan of action, panic set in. Gas began seeping into the interior of the bus, engulfing the space. Wheezing and coughing, the teenagers struggled to comprehend the unfolding events. The gas rendered them disoriented, their focus shifting to a single objective—escape. Desperate attempts to open the windows or pry the doors proved futile, as if trapped in a macabre nightmare. The gas took its toll swiftly, incapacitating the boys one by one, leaving them at the mercy of the toxic fumes.

Outside the bus, the driver, Mr. George, and Coach Hale watched in horror as the men from the SUVs emerged. Their intentions remained unknown, shrouded in a foreboding darkness that matched the desperation within the bus. Time seemed to slow, a collective breath held in anticipation of what would unfold next.

As the tense situation unfolded, the sound of banging from within the bus demanded their attention. Mr. George and Coach Hale turned their heads, their eyes widening in horror as they witnessed the gas filling the bus, watching as its toxic clouds surrounded the boys until they could no longer see them.

Before they could react, powerful hands closed around their arms, restraining them. The strangers, towering figures compared to Mr. George and Coach Hale, easily subdued them. Confusion and fear gripped the chaperones, prompting Coach Hale to raise his voice, "What is going on?"

Approaching them, a man stepped forward, accompanied by the enigmatic bus driver whose name still remained a mystery. The man spoke with a taunting smirk on his face, "Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Dominic. I apologize that we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances."

Mr. George's voice trembled as he demanded answers, "What do you want from us?" The bus continued to be rocked by thuds from within its interior, heightening the sense of urgency.

Dominic chuckled, relishing the tension in the air. The silence that followed his laughter was deafening, each occupant of the bus hanging onto his every word. "I don't want anything from you gentlemen," he said, his voice dripping with malice, "what I want is on that bus."

The chaperones exchanged horrified side glances, their minds racing to comprehend the true nature of the situation they've just found themselves in. Dominic continued, his words laced with an air of authority, "Well, I think that's enough. I'm ready to receive my prizes now. You know what to do with them."

Before Mr. George and Coach Hale could respond, their bodies suddenly went limp, pierced by needles injected into their necks. As the unknown liquid entered their bloodstream the two men began convulsing uncontrollably as they foamed from the mouths. The two men who held them lowered their soon to be lifeless forms to the ground. Dominic, along with the bus driver and two other men, stepped over their fallen bodies, pulling masks over their faces to protect themselves from the toxic gas.

As the men carried away the unconscious chaperones, Dominic's attention turned to the bus. Stepping inside, he roamed the aisle, scrutinizing each boy sprawled across the seats. His gaze halted abruptly when he laid eyes upon a particular boy with delicate features. Time seemed to stand still as Dominic stood before him, captivated by the boy's presence.

"That one's mine!" Dominic declared with conviction, pointing to the youngest of the teens, Arlo. His men nodded in confirmation. "Move each one of them to their own seat, and lay them down. I don't want anyone seeing them from the outside." Dominic said before turning back around to exit off the bus. Acknowledging their orders they turned to the remaining occupants of the bus getting to work moving them around. Dominic casted a smirking gaze towards the bus driver when he noticed his eyes drawn to an older boy. "You can have him since you did such a good job. I'm proud of you, Adam," he remarked, leaving Adam alone now with a sinister smile on his face as he peered down at a knocked out Ezra.

Adam quickly returned to the driver's seat, starting the engine once again. He waited until the two black SUVs departed from the parking lot before following behind, his eyes constantly checking the rear view mirror to ensure the continued unconsciousness of the teens, his eyes focusing more on a certain body.

As the vehicles vanished into the night, the bus remained eerily silent as darkness loomed over the fate of the eight boys.