Arthur's white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel of his bus, in the back, families—young and old—huddled together, bracing themselves against the cold wind that was rushing in through the broken windows, it was almost suffocating—the cold air restricting his breathing like that first sip of a cold glass of water. His eyes watered as pinpricks of rain pelted him in the face.350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAc5JMdgH82
The rickety bus wasn’t built for this weather, and it was safe to say that the refugees huddled in the back weren’t either. He had just picked them up in the blackness of the early morn, and now, it was…well, he had lost track of time. 350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMXdmI6FiyC
Since his pocket watch had been broken the week prior, it felt as if the days melted into each other seamlessly. Weeks became months in such short time, it seemed.350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7kQeEnA1Ew
He looked ahead, the lantern hanging over the bus’s windshield helped marginally, but only to the point where Arthur could see only a foot or two in front of him.350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHI2I3BGkXk
The howling wind whipped his mousy hair through the air and threatened to pull his thick spectacles off his face. The lantern was swaying wildly, the glowing orange flame flickering rapidly, lapping the sides of the aged glass.350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcgb9j14yVD
He had to stop somewhere, somewhere safe. The farther from the Capital, the better. Arthur pulled on a lever, the bus sputtered and backfired as it accelerated, jostling the huddled passengers. In the cracked rearview mirror, Arthur could see a young, ragged mother with a bundled of faded cloth in her arms. Her pale, almost translucent hair hung over her glassy blue eyes, attentively watching the bundle. The sight sent shudders down Arthur's back. How could any mother hold her child like that - knowing they had..350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuQfTBUxq6Y
Arthur shook his head, refocusing on the road ahead.
Another refugee had pulled Arthur aside before they had departed, an older woman, she had explained to him in no uncertain terms that she was, in her words, "a bit of a loon."350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfgJ8fvFrh7
Arthur didn't particularly mind this; his only job was to drive refugees to the outskirts of Greymarsh; a small fishing village far enough away from the Capital that they wouldn't come looking for them. And then, they were the Haven's problem. 350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQHzCiat9wE
Arthur would be lying if he said that she didn't scare him. In truth, she did. Every so often, he would find her staring at him through the rearview mirror; her eyes fixated on him in such a way that it felt as if she was pulling apart every thread of his life. Enlisting, coming home with one leg in the grave, the drinking that followed soon after. Everything.350Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPKoiqyKwb7
And he couldn't explain why.
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