School bus drivers. Nobody really thinks about them. I bet you don’t even check to see whether your school bus driver is a lunatic or not. That’s the problem with society nowadays. People don’t care about others, and that could be the fall of humanity. In fact, the police just found a fugitive that was taking cover driving school buses. The police are still investigating that case, as mysteries keep popping up within the case. I was one of the children on the bus he drove. It was bus number three, for the sixth graders on the far edge of town. The fugitive, whom I believe’s name is Marco, was arrested the first time for testing weapons on children. The news didn’t go too far into detail about his weapons or why, luckily, or I might’ve lost my lunch. When it was announced that he had escaped jail, I was probably as scared as I had ever been. Once he has been on the loose for a month I relaxed a small bit. If he hadn’t done any new crimes in a month, he might not be as dangerous as I thought. Of course, I was wrong with that assumption. Around that time I started to get a little jumpy around all adults, especially my bus driver. There was some thing about that Glint in his eye that I thought was suspicious. I had convinced myself it was just my imagination, though. I had been living my life normally for a few months not worrying about anything, when one day I noticed that the windows started getting red stains. I shrugged it off because it didn’t matter to me at the time. But by the time summer came around, there were significantly more red stains. I wasn’t bothered by it though, because I had more important things to do, like end of year testing. Once school had let out for the summer, I had started playing outside much more. One day I was biking around the neighborhood with my friends. We heard a shrill scream, and being curious kids,
we decided to check out the source of the noise. We followed the sound into a part of the neighborhood I had never been to. It had huge droopy trees, and the dark vibe of the area made me want to be quiet. I’m guessing my friends thought the same, because none of us said a word. We abandoned our bikes and started tiptoeing toward the house we heard the screen come from. As we turned the corner, we saw our school bus parked in the driveway of one of the houses. We went toward the bus and nudged open the door. Inside lay my best friend, dead, and a hatchet. That was the worst thing I had ever seen, and I may never recover from the horrific sight. That’s when it clicked in my head that the red stains on the window were blood. To this day, a few weeks after the incident, my friends and I are still wondering: Who will be the bus driver’s next victim?
