Greyhound

7:22, my watch read. I walked a little faster. The bus was leaving in eight minutes, and I still had to get my ticket.

Just a few more steps to the bus depot. I'd been walking for half an hour, and drops of sweat were pooling in the neck of my $270 cropped leather Guess jacket. It was too warm for it that night, but there was no time to pause and take it off. I had two midterms coming up the next day, and the 7:30 was the last bus to Winnipeg.

7:26, and finally I was at the ticket counter. "A one-way student ticket to Winnipeg, please." If I was lucky, I would make the bus. I crossed my fingers in my left pocket while I passed the ticket dude my debit card with my right.

For a second, I debated with myself over whether sprinting for the bus would be worth the sweat stains in my lacy tank top. Two midterms tomorrow, and I'd be heading straight back to rez where I could change before anyone saw me. I made a run for it.

The last people in line were just getting on the bus. I made it! I arrived panting as the driver was about to close the doors. He gave me a knowing smile, but let me on.

The bus was nearly full. It looked like I wouldn't be able to get a whole seat to myself. I glanced up and down the rows for the person who looked least likely to bother me during the ride. Old lady, ugly guy, sleeping woman. I sat next to the sleeping woman.



A few seconds later, the bus pulled away. No friendly patter from the driver, thank God. I knew I had some crumpled-up notes somewhere in my $150 knock-off Louis Vuitton clutch, but I didn't feel like studying. I would be pulling an all-nighter once I got back to the 'peg, and for the moment I just wanted to get some sleep.

I thought briefly about how unfair it was that I was stuck on this bus going back to school in the middle of the summer. I should have been working and partying with my old high school friends back in my hometown like everybody else was. If I hadn't failed those couple of classes, that would be what I'd have been doing. Even the profs didn't want to be in school during the spring term. I got to see my old friends on weekends like this one, sure, but they got to hang out with each other all the time. It wasn't fair.

Closing my eyes, I tried to breathe deeply. I would be at the Winnipeg terminal in two and a half hours. From there, it'd just be a short walk back to my place. I'd spend half an hour - well, no more than an hour - chilling with floormates. Then I'd grab a bag of Doritos in the caf before it closed and pop a couple Ritalin to help me study. Everything was going to be fine.

I had just drifted off when a noise woke me up. The woman beside me was still asleep, but was groaning as if she was having a bad dream or something. Damn. It figured of all the people on the bus, I had to sit next to the one who couldn't just sleep normally. I'd never get back to sleep with those freaky sounds she was making. I poked her shoulder, hoping she'd wake up and realize what an asshole she was being.

"Ah!" It was a gasp, sounding almost scared. The woman's eyes opened. I hadn't really looked at her before, but I did now. She was cheaply dressed in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, and had short dishwater-brown hair that did nothing for her face. She was probably 30 or 40. At the moment, she was panting like she'd just finished a marathon. After looking around like she didn't know where she was, her eyes fixed on me.

"Go back to sleep, lady. You were just making some funny noises, so I poked you."

Her breathing slowed as she stared at me. "I - you - I'm sorry. I - I - "

"It's okay. Just go back to sleep and don't make those noises anymore."

She looked down at her hands, then back at me. Colour I didn't know she had been missing returned to her face. "I'm so sorry. I'll explain what happened. You see - "

Oh, no. She was a chatterbox after all - just what I'd been hoping to avoid. "It's okay! I don't need to hear it."

"I need to tell you." She breathed deeply, still looking shaky and unsure of herself. "A long time ago, I was on this same bus. Brandon to Winnipeg."

And once upon a time, I was a princess who jumped over the moon. Why wouldn't she let me go back to sleep?

"I was on my way to a friend's wedding. I wasn't thinking about anything else but the wedding. I was happy for my friend, although a bit jealous since I wasn't married yet. I bought my ticket, just like you. Just like all these people must have." She gestured around at everyone else. "There was a movie playing, but I wasn't interested. I sat down and went to sleep. Not a care in the world, except for my petty jealousy and my worries about my dress getting wrinkled. I don't know what your story is, but I suspect it's pretty similar."

Two midterms the next day was a bit more serious than a wrinkled dress, but I kept my mouth shut. The faster she talked, the sooner this would be over.

"I only woke up because I heard a - well, I never know what to call it. I suppose you would say a scream, but it wasn't that. It was a cry, a howl, a - it doesn't matter. I heard it, and I woke up and turned around. Everybody else on the bus turned around and we all saw it."

She paused for a second. "I don't need to tell you what was happening. You already know."

It felt as if my heart stopped then. I did know what she was talking about. No one in the province could not know, although it had taken place several years before. The Greyhound Murder. The kid barely older than I am now sleeping in his seat. The crazy man who sat beside him and stabbed him.

"You saw it," I whispered.

The woman nodded. "I can't tell you what it was like. Seeing a young man's life ripped away from him, and in such a brutal way. I couldn't believe it was real. I wouldn't believe it. I kept telling myself that it was a game the two of them were playing, or it was being filmed for some reality show. But I saw the blood."

A tear slipped out of her eye as she continued. "What could we do? We panicked. Someone yelled to stop the bus. We got out as fast as we could. We didn't know what was going to happen. We had to save ourselves."

"But not him." I wasn't accusing her; it was just the one thing that I had always wondered about that murder.

She shook her head slowly. "We couldn't." She looked down. "We just couldn't. We got off the bus and we stood on the side of the road. The driver said some school buses were going to pick us up and take us back to Brandon, but while we were waiting, we saw - "

"I know what you saw." The passengers stood on the side of the road and watched the man decapitate the kid. Eat parts of his body.

Her tears continued. "Later on, they said he was crazy. The murderer. They said he didn't know what he was doing. He thought he had been sent by God, and the poor young man was a demon that he had to destroy. In his mind, he was doing what was right."

"So..."

"So sometimes I dream about it. Sometimes I dream I'm the young man that was killed. And sometimes I dream that I'm him. The murderer."

I didn't know what to say. What could anybody say to this woman? For the moment at least, I had forgotten about my exams and my sweaty jacket. Without knowing why, I reached over the armrest and took her hand. She looked at me, and through her tears I thought I could see the hint of a smile. I squeezed, and she squeezed back. "I understand."