Chapter One
A sudden jolt woke Marty from his almost restful slumber. The bus had hit a hole in the road and bounced quite alarmingly. Marty sat, still half asleep, until he noticed the acrid smell of smoke. He shot up and looked around, noticing that the bus was completely empty. The walls had the telltale stains of fire, large black blotches where smoke had caressed them smoothly. Under the smoke stains were other stains, like rust, but less coarse. He stood and began to walk toward the driver's seat, thinking that he might've missed his stop. When he reached the front of the bus he stood agape.
The driver was dead, or should have been.
He had been flayed; his guts strung out and tied to the steering wheel, keeping to bus from swerving. His arms were little more than ruined strips of flesh hanging from his shoulders. Oddly enough, and to Marty's horror, the driver's legs shifted back and forth to the gas and brake pedals when either pedal was needed. The body was, in effect, still driving the bus. Marty swallowed back bile as he looked upon the wreckage of the man's face. His eyes here gouged out, and most of the flesh torn from his cheekbones, his nose was twisted and nearly broken off. His bottom jaw was gone, a raggedly torn mass of bloody muscle and artery were its replacement. His body twitched and a gurgling sound issued forth from the ragged hole where his mouth had once been.
Marty jumped back as a stringy intestine shot forth from the man's gut and operated the mechanism for the bus's door. With a metallic scream the door slid open and revealed the inky depth of an unending abyss. Marty gazed into it, almost drawn toward the darkness. He took a heavy step toward the door, still staring into the endless night.
Suddenly, the night was staring back at him.
Marty retreated back along the bus's aisle, putting some distance between himself and the shape that was making its way up the steps from the door. The form wavered for a moment, and then began to take shape. It was taller than Marty, maybe seven feet tall or more, but lean. Its arms were long and thin, each ending in a hand with four fingers. Its legs were also disproportionately thin. It stood next to the bus driver as its form finished taking shape.
Its face was nothing more than a single piece of leathery skin stretched over its skull and jawbone and stitched together in back, it had no eyes or nose. It's chin and mouth were uncovered bone, giving it the effect of a smile. Its thin body was little more than pieces of individual skin stretched over its skeletal frame and sewn together. There was an intricate design scarred into its chest made up of several concentric circles and undecipherable runes. Its skin was the color of aged leather, like that of a mummy. It seemed to be staring at Marty, and in the closeness of the bus he could hear it's hissing breath as it breathed through its teeth.
Marty stared on as it reached over and took the driver's ravaged head in a single massive hand and slowly crushed it like a grape. The sound made Marty gag. It sounded exactly like a skull would sound when crushed, there was an initial crack as the bones gave way and then sickening squish as the matter within was crushed. The body jumped once and then went slack, the intestines that had been steering let go and the bus swerved violently. At the same time the driver's leaden foot fell on the gas and the bus began to speed up. The figured then took a single step down the aisle toward Marty.
It held out an arm and something slowly began to form. It started as a handle wrapped in the creatures four-fingered fist, then a long, rusty metal shaft, which terminated in a large metal ball. The ball was studded with several bloodstained spikes. It advanced toward Martin, hefting the mace back in preparation to swing. Suddenly the mace was a blur of movement, and Marty fell backward just in time to avoid it as it smashed into several seats and the wall on his right. The whole bus rocked with the force of the block, and a hole had been opened in its side. Marty crawled backward, trying to avoid the next blow.
And then the bus was airborne.
Marty could only look on in horror as beyond the figure, who was now in the process of bringing the heavy mace down on him, the headlights suddenly revealed a wall of water seconds before the windshield shattered. With a loud rush water enveloped the bus, and Marty knew nothing but it's cold touch, and then blackness.
Martin woke with a start, shaking and sweating. He glanced around in near panic, realizing he had been dreaming. The bus, though near empty, was normal once again. There was no water, no demon, and no corpse driving. He coughed a few times, still shaking from his dream. He jumped instinctively as an elderly woman casually set down beside him.
"Are you okay, sir? I saw that you were asleep, but you cried out once or twice. Was it a nightmare?" She asked, her face a picture of concern.
"Uh, yeah. You could say it was a nightmare. I'm fine, really. Thank you for asking, though." He tried to smile, but the muscles wouldn't cooperate. The lady frowned, but stood and went back to her seat. Marty stood and stretched, rubbing his eyes and yawning, when the bus stopped and the driver yelled the words he'd been dreading since Allison brought him the letter from his mother only hours ago.
"Last stop, Silent Hill!"