An Unscheduled Stop
The engine and the tires sang in pleasant harmony as the bus sped along the interstate. The passengers, in an effort to alleviate their boredom, looked for ways to pass the time. Some read newspapers or magazines. Others watched the movie being shown on the video screens, but there was little interest in the film, a low-budget romantic comedy starring two unknown actors who completely lacked on-screen chemistry. A few people closed their eyes and tried to nap; some even succeeded.
Forbes Browning alternately checked his watch and impatiently scanned the side of the road for traffic signs. Several times he fought the urge to cry out to the driver, "Are we almost there?" He was not, after all, a child on a long car trip.
The monotonous journey continued for several hours, but then the harmony of the engine-tire duet turned to a discordant tune.
"Looks like we've got engine trouble, folks," the bus driver announced. "There's a town not far from here. I'm going to stop at the service station there and have the mechanic check out the problem."
Forbes rolled his eyes and swore under his breath, angry at having to make an unscheduled stop.
"Where are we, anyway?" he asked the attractive woman sitting across the aisle from him.
Candace Sheehan put down her issue of People magazine and gave him a puzzled look.
"I don't know. It seems to me we're in the middle of nowhere."
"It sure does," he agreed. "It's funny; I don't remember driving through any cities or towns all morning."
"Then we had better stop in the next service station as the driver suggested," Candace pointed out logically. "We might not find another one for several more hours."
* * *
As his fellow passengers exited the bus and stood on the main street of Heartland, stretching their legs after the long drive, Forbes cornered the driver.
"When is the other bus gonna get here?"
"What bus is that?" the driver asked.
"When a bus breaks down, the driver normally radios his dispatcher, and another bus is sent to take the passengers to their destination."
"Just relax, Mr. Browning. The repairs won't take long. We'll be back on the road before another bus can get here."
"I don't have time to waste in this jerkwater town," Forbes cried with annoyance.
The driver remained calm, but a definite coldness replaced his former congeniality.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you don't have a choice."
Meanwhile, the other passengers had taken refuge in a luncheonette across the street from the service station, and Forbes decided a cup of coffee might improve his mood. When he entered the eatery, he noticed that Candace Sheehan was sitting alone at the counter. He sat down beside her.
"Coffee," he told the middle-aged waitress who was working behind the counter.
A teenage boy with spiked hair got up from one of the booths and put a quarter in the jukebox.
"I love this song," Candace said as she stirred her iced tea with a plastic straw.
"Yeah, it's a good one," Forbes agreed.
His coffee arrived, and he drank it down in two gulps. Then he looked at his watch.
"I wonder how long we'll be stuck here."
"Why? Are you in a rush?"
"Yes. I hate to waste time. Life is too short."
The young woman's blue-gray eyes sparkled with impertinence.
"Then why travel by bus? You should have taken a plane. They're much faster, you know."
"And you? I suppose you have nowhere else you'd rather be, nothing else you'd rather be doing."
"It's a gorgeous day, and this is a lovely town. Things could be worse."
"Let me guess," Forbes laughed. "That glass of iced tea is half full, right?"
"And I suppose you're a pessimist who would say it's half empty."
"Why don't we compromise and just call it half a glass of tea?"
"You've got a deal."
After she finished her drink, Candace decided to take a walk and invited Forbes to join her.
"This is exactly the type of town I'd choose to live in if I could afford it," she announced, as the two walked down the tree-lined boulevard.
"I'm a city boy myself. I'd go stir crazy if I had to live in a place where they roll up the sidewalks at sundown."
"I'd move here in a heartbeat. That house on the corner would be perfect. I'd plant a flower garden in the front yard and buy a dog to keep me company, either an Irish setter or a collie."
"A dog? A beautiful woman like you needs a man to keep her company."
Candace blushed and laughed, "What makes you think I don't already have one?"
* * *
It was early evening when Forbes and Candace returned to the luncheonette. The bus passengers were all eating dinner.
"Any word on when we'll be leaving?" he asked.
"Probably not until morning," replied an elderly man with a Santa Claus-length white beard.
"What! We can't stay here all night. I'm going to go talk to that bus driver."
Forbes stormed out of the luncheonette in the direction of the garage where the bus was being repaired. He returned a short time later, moodily silent. Candace signaled him to sit across from her at a table for two.
"What did the driver say?"
"I couldn't find him. The garage is closed for the night, and no one is around. I don't know where he could have gone. I didn't see any motels."
"Maybe he's sleeping on the bus. Why don't you relax? I ordered some food for us. I hope you like burgers and fries."
Forbes smiled. If he had to be stranded in a small town like Heartland, he was glad it was with someone like Candace Sheehan. She was the type of girl that he liked: one with both good looks and a sense of humor.
For the second time that day, the teenager with the spiked hair put a quarter in the jukebox.
"There's my song again," Candace said, dipping a long steak fry into a paper cup of ketchup.
"We do have something in common then," Forbes laughed. "I've always liked Stevie Ray Vaughan."
"That's not Stevie Ray Vaughan," Candace said, assuming he'd made a simple mistake with the names. "It's Stevie Nicks."
Forbes laughed and replied, "I may not be the sharpest tack in the pack, but I know Stevie Ray when I hear him."
"And I know Stevie Nicks when I hear her."
Forbes did not find his pretty companion's joke particularly amusing, but he decided to play along with her anyway.
"I never knew Stevie Nicks recorded 'Pride and Joy.'"
"Are you deliberately trying to make a fool out of me?" Candace asked with no indication that she was joking.
"No. The jukebox is playing 'Pride and Joy' by Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble. What do you think it's playing?"
"'Leather and Lace' by Stevie Nicks."
"You're both wrong," the teenager with the spikes interrupted. "That's 'Losing my Religion' by R.E.M."
"No, it's not," the man with the Santa Claus beard argued. "It's Garth Brooks."
"What about the rest of you?" Forbes asked the other passengers. "What did you all hear?"
Various voices called out names of artists including Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley and the Beatles.
"Everybody hears something different," Forbes said, as he walked to the jukebox and read the titles of the songs it offered. All the choices from A1 through Z6 read "Pride and Joy" by Stevie Ray Vaughan.
"What's with this jukebox?"
He looked toward the counter, but the waitress was no longer there.
* * *
When Forbes came back from searching the kitchen, he noticed Candace staring out the front window.
"There's no one back there," he told the others. "No waitress, no cook—nobody at all."
"Hell of a way to run a business," the man with the Santa Claus beard laughed. "We haven't even paid for our food."
"Maybe the waitress is with the bus driver," the kid with the spikes suggested. "They both disappeared, didn't they?"
Candace turned away from the window.
"They're apparently not the only ones," she said. "I haven't seen any townspeople since we got here, and no cars have driven past. Even now, when most people would be coming home from work, there's not a soul out there."
"She's right," the teenager with the spikes confirmed her observation. "Not a sign of life anywhere. There aren't even any lights on in that Victorian house on the corner."
Candace's face lost color.
"Which house?"
"That big Victorian one right there."
The teenager pointed to the house on the corner of Main Street and Roland Road.
"Forbes, what type of house do you see?" she asked.
"A bi-level. Why?"
Candace closed her eyes and tried to stop trembling.
"I see a saltbox."
An uneasy silence descended upon the diners in the luncheonette. It was the teenager with the spikes who broke it.
"First the jukebox and now that house. This place gives me the creeps."
"Me, too," the man with the Santa Claus beard concurred. "I can't wait to get back on the road."
"Where were you headed?" Candace asked.
It was a simple question, but one that caused all the faces in the luncheonette to turn and stare expectantly at her.
"And where did you come from? Anybody want to tell me?"
The silence was ominous.
"My guess is that no one can because no one remembers."
"What is this," the bearded man asked, "some form of mass hysteria?"
The teenager with the spikes offered an alternate explanation.
"Perhaps we were all drugged."
Forbes was the only one to express anger.
"I don't give a damn where I came from or where I was going. All I know is that I want out of this wacky Twilight Zone town."
"That's a great idea," Candace said. "But just how are you going to do that, on foot? There might not be another town for hundreds of miles."
"I don't care if I have to walk until the soles of my shoes wear out. I'm not staying here."
The teenager with the spikes offered some sound advice.
"We drove up along the coast, so all we have to do is head east. Once we come to the Atlantic, we'll be bound to find some people."
"The kid is right," the man with the Santa Claus beard agreed. "There are towns and cities along the entire Eastern Seaboard. But no one is going to get far in the dark. I suggest we all get a good night's sleep, eat a hardy breakfast in the morning and then get the hell out of here."
* * *
Forbes woke at 3:00 a.m., feeling a pressure in his bladder. It was pathetic, he often thought, that a man his age couldn't sleep through the night without getting up to pee. As he made his way to the restroom, he could not help noticing that there were fewer people in the luncheonette. At first, he wasn't worried. They might be in the kitchen having a late-night snack, or maybe they went outside for some fresh air. During the next few hours, several more people, including the old man with the Santa Claus beard, disappeared, yet Forbes saw no one leave the luncheonette. So where had they gone?
Thankfully, Candace was still there, sleeping on the floor about five feet away. Forbes shook her gently.
"What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.
"People are disappearing, and I'm not referring to the bus driver and the waitress. A number of the passengers from the bus are gone now."
Candace abruptly sat up.
"Where did they go?"
"It beats the hell out of me."
By the time the first light of dawn arrived, there were only a handful of people left. The teenager with the spiked hair sat at a nearby booth with an odd, vacant smile on his face. For the past hour, he had been uncharacteristically quiet.
"Hey kid, are you okay?" Forbes asked.
"Did you know they have a baseball field down the street? I always loved to play baseball. And there's a hot dog stand that sells chili dogs and cheese fries—my favorite."
There was a far-away gaze in his eyes, and the beatific smile never left his face.
Candace was scared. First, more than one-half of the people had disappeared, and now the teenager seemed to be on the fast track to insanity.
Soon one of the other survivors began to behave in the same manner as the teenager.
"There's a swimming hole not far from here with a rope swing. The water looks cool and inviting. I'll bet it would be fun to swing out on that rope and jump into the water."
Before the sun had fully risen, two more passengers got that serene, dreamy look on their faces and began describing places in Heartland that they could not possibly have seen from their vantage point in the luncheonette.
"I think we should get going soon," Candace warned.
"Yeah," Forbes concurred. "Let's go look for some food and bottled water first. We don't know when we'll get to another town."
There were few supplies in the kitchen. What little food she could find Candace divided into several cardboard boxes, which she asked Forbes to help her carry out to the dining area. When she walked through the swinging doors and found the luncheonette void of people, Candace dropped her box of groceries and screamed.
"We're the only ones left," she sobbed.
Forbes put down his groceries, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the front door.
"Let's go. We're getting out of here—NOW!"
They ran outside, and Candace suddenly stopped short.
"Come on," Forbes urged. "We'll check the bus first. Maybe we can drive it. Even if it breaks down eventually, it just might get us out of this place."
But Candace was no longer interested in the bus or even in escaping from Heartland. She was staring at the house on the corner of Main Street and Roland Road. Her eyes suddenly glazed over, and a smile lit up her beautiful face.
"Look at that saltbox. It's just the type of house I've always wanted, and there's a doghouse in the backyard. How heavenly!"
"Stop it!" Forbes yelled. "It's a bi-level—not a saltbox—and not a very well-kept one, at that. And there's no doghouse in the backyard. You're imagining it all."
"Lilacs! I love lilacs. I'm going to plant lilac bushes in the front yard."
Slap!
Forbes hoped the shock of the blow would bring Candace back to her senses, but it didn't.
"Why run away, Forbes? You and I could be happy living together in that house. I find you very attractive, and I think you feel the same way about me. So why don't we stay here?"
Forbes gave up trying to reason with her. Instead, he picked her up and attempted to carry her to the garage. She struggled fiercely, though, and he had to put her down. Once her feet touched the ground, she ran toward the corner of Main Street and Roland Road.
"Candace! Come back! We've got to get out of here."
His voice echoed back in the stillness of the morning as Candace Sheehan vanished before his eyes.
* * *
The door to the garage was locked, but Forbes took a rock, broke the glass, reached his hand inside and unlocked it. He was relieved to see that no one had disassembled the bus's engine.
There might not even be anything wrong with it, he thought.
Lady Luck, apparently, was on his side: the driver had left the keys in the ignition. Forbes climbed aboard, started the engine, released the clutch and drove the bus through the garage bay door.
* * *
"I've failed with this one," a deep, male voice announced with a heavy sigh.
"It's not your fault," a woman replied. "It can't be helped. It's like hypnosis. Some people just aren't susceptible to suggestion."
Forbes opened his eyes but could not see. A bright light shone down directly at his face.
"Where am I?" he moaned.
The man answered, "You're in Viewmont."
But the name meant nothing to Forbes.
"I'm Dr. Claudius Stevens," the man continued.
A faint memory struggled to break through the surface of Forbes's brain.
"The bus. I must have had an accident. I may be in a hospital, but at least I got away."
Dr. Stevens reached up and turned off the overhead lamp. When Forbes' eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed that there were bars on the windows.
"This isn't a hospital," he concluded. "It's an asylum, but I'm not crazy."
"It's neither a hospital nor an asylum; it's a prison."
The word prison opened a floodgate in Forbes's memory. He had been sentenced to life for the murder of three elderly women, all of whom he robbed before he killed.
"I had the strangest dream," he told the doctor. "I was riding on a bus, but it developed engine trouble and had to make an unscheduled stop."
"That was no dream," Dr. Stevens told him. "Look over there."
Across the room were several gurneys like the one Forbes was lying on. On each gurney was a passenger from the bus.
"The rest are in the room across the hall," the doctor said.
On the bed closest to him, Forbes saw the teenager with the spiked hair, the one who liked R.E.M., baseball, chili dogs and cheese fries. He appeared to be deep in sleep, yet the same peaceful smile was on his face.
"Just what's going on here?" Forbes asked.
He did not expect Claudius to answer truthfully, but surprisingly the doctor was open and honest with him.
"Since the death penalty was declared unconstitutional, we're faced with serious problems in our penal system. We have far too many dangerous inmates and not enough maximum-security prisons or guards to deal with them."
"Can you just skip the crap and give me the bottom line, Doc?" Forbes asked impatiently. "What has all this to do with me?"
Claudius Stevens smiled.
"The bottom line is that science has discovered a new way of dealing with prisoners. Researchers have discovered that violent criminals lack a certain chemical in their brains. Without this chemical, which we have dubbed 'Ingredient X,' a person cannot develop a conscience. Without a conscience, that person is capable of all kinds of antisocial behavior."
"Let me guess. You intend to introduce a synthetic form of this Ingredient X into the brain, and we're the guinea pigs."
"No. We have yet to find a way to duplicate it in a lab. Instead, we reprogram parts of the brain that do function properly."
"Reprogram? Like a computer?"
"Exactly. You see, none of the people in this room was actually on a bus. You were all here at Viewmont, lying on your gurneys. A small computer chip was introduced into each of your brains, and the reprogramming commenced. Of course, some people responded more quickly than others. You and Mrs. Sheehan put up quite a fight."
"Candace? Is she here?" Forbes asked hopefully.
"Physically, yes. She's in the room across the hall. Mentally, however, she's still in Heartland."
Forbes cried indignantly, "What gives you the right to monkey around with another person's mind?"
"The Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Since she was convicted of murdering her husband and three children, she has very few rights. In the old days, she would have been executed, and not long ago she would have had to live in a six-by-ten-foot cell for the rest of her natural life, never knowing freedom again. At least now she's got her house, her dog, her garden and her lilac bushes."
"But they're not real!"
"To her they are. She's able to experience the entire spectrum of human emotions and sensations, just on a different level of reality."
"What are you going to do with her?" Forbes asked and then added as an afterthought, "And the others?"
"They'll all be sent to a holding facility where their physical bodies will be nourished intravenously to keep them alive."
"Sounds like a human warehouse."
"I prefer to think of it more as a nursing home or one of those extended care facilities where people put their brain-damaged relatives until they die a natural death."
Forbes shook his head with disgust.
"I can't bear to think of that beautiful woman locked away all alone for the rest of her natural life."
"She won't be alone for long. This group was just the first, but it's proven to be a success. More inmates will now be brought here for processing. Mrs. Sheehan is bound to meet someone special eventually."
"And what about me?"
"You had your chance, Forbes, but you blew it.
Dr. Stevens raised his hand and made a gesture toward the door. Two armed guards entered.
"I'm afraid Mr. Browning here is not a suitable candidate for processing," he told them.
The shorter of the two guards drew his service revolver while the taller one took out a pair of handcuffs and placed them on Forbes's wrists.
"Come with us," the taller guard said.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To a maximum-security penitentiary," Dr. Stevens explained. "It's where we'll send all those who can't be reprogrammed. It's a shame really. You might have been very happy in Heartland with Mrs. Sheehan at your side. Instead, you'll spend the next sixty or seventy years behind bars with no one but your cellmate for company."
When the guards escorted Forbes out into the hallway, he craned his neck and looked into the room across the hall. Candace was lying on a gurney near the door. From the blissful smile on her beautiful face, Forbes knew that she had indeed found happiness in that saltbox on the corner of Main Street and Roland Road.
Salem had his own bus company once, but the passengers objected to the frequent stops at the fast-food restaurants.
