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Bad drivers are truly everywhere.

I start to lean back in my seat when someone up front screams.

Likescreams.

Then more people scream.

I hear a shout, and then the bus lurches straight into the back of the van, pushing it forward a few feet.

“What—” My words are cut off when a bang rips through the air.

The screaming gets louder. And our bus driver is slouched over in his seat. His foot must come off the gas because we stop pushing the van into the intersection.

My heart is racing.

What the hell just?—

Over the screams, I hear the distinct sound of breaking glass before a stranger climbs the steps at the front of the bus. Holding a gun.

I slap my hands over my mouth.

Oh my god.

A second man follows him onto the bus.

Oh my god!

“Stay where you are!” the first man shouts. His accent is strong, but there’s no mistaking his demand.

The second man is reaching for the bus driver.

I press my hands harder to my mouth.

He’s going to drag him out of the seat so he can drive us off. Because that first bang was a gunshot. They killed the driver.

We’re being kidnapped.

The first man holds his gun higher and snaps something at one of my coworkers up front.

This was my fear. And now it’s happening.

The gunman’s still yelling at someone, but then he whips his head over to look past where I’m sitting.

Toward the back of the bus.

He straightens his gun arm like he’s going to shoot.

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the loud noise as more screams fill the bus.

But there’s no gunshot.

I open my eyes.

Then widen them.

The gun drops from the man’s hand as he reaches up to his face. His fingers grab at the slender hilt of a knife protruding from his eye socket.

Under my hands, my mouth pulls into a grimace.

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