no other living thing dare tread on its surface

 

            A while back, I was riding on a bus full of passengers both young and old, from all walks of life.  The miles passing under the wheels of the bus and its straining engine were the only sounds in the cabin.  Everyone stared out of the windows at the barren landscape, burnt tumbleweeds rolling alongside the bus.  The sun scorched the clear sky and evaporated every hint of moisture.

            I awoke from my desert reverie when a commotion broke out just ahead of me on the bus.  The driver strode back and pointed a hand, skin as rough as a sunning alligator’s, directly in my face.  “You,” he grumbled.  “Get off my bus.  Now.”  Startled, I looked around at the other passengers.  They all watched me, waiting for me to disembark.  I peered out the window, at the miles of hot, dry sand, and looked back at him questioningly.  Browned skin stretched taught across his face, salt stains spreading through his white button down shirt, he waited with his hands on hips. 

            Does he mean to leave me in the middle of the desert on a road where we have seen no other cars?  I slowly rose, distributing my weight between my two quaking legs and looked at him once more.  He caught my gaze and lowered his eyes in a slow nod, waiting for me to pass.  I walked to the front and went down the steps.  I stepped onto the road, so hot that heat shimmered above it and no other living thing dare tread on its surface.  

            Through the windows, I watched the driver deliberately walk to his seat behind the wheel and close the doors with a hiss.  The passengers turned back to their windows, staring at the Martian landscape as if nothing had happened.   The driver put the bus in gear and began accelerating down the road. 

            Shocked, I couldn’t believe what was happening.  I had nothing with me except the clothes on my back and my worn out shoes.  My bags!  My belongings!  They’re still on the bus!  I took off running as fast as I could in the dusty exhaust trail.  Running faster and faster, I gained on the bus, only for the bus to pull ahead.  “Stop!”  I yelled.  “Wait!”

            I kept running, anxiety mounting and sweat evaporating the second it oozed through my pores, leaving a salty film behind.  “Stop!” Everything is on that bus!  All of my things.  My history.  My whole being and the contents connected to me.  The bus showed no signs of stopping.

            Suddenly, a man ran next to me.  “I can help you!”  He yelled over the sound of the bus’s engine, “Just keep running!”  I nodded in agreement as my feet continued pounding the hot asphalt.  Who are you?  I wanted to ask, but all I could do was croak a strange sound. 

            Soon, he picked up speed, approaching the back of the bus and leapt onto the rear bumper.  My things we piled with everyone else’s, and I could see them through the back window.  He opened the window and stuck the top of his body into the bus, still standing on the narrow bumper.  I kept running.

            As he began to pull himself out of the window, the bus made a sharp turn.  I had been so busy watching the man, I hadn’t noticed the approach of distant buildings.  The bus slowed down and pulled into the station.  The man jumped off, holding my large black duffle back.  My baggage!  I instantly stopped running, exhausted from the harsh heat coming from the sun and the road. 

            The man handed me my bag and I graciously accepted it.  Reunited with my possessions and with myself, I breathed a sigh of relief.