Stuck with Him | Chapter One
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It was supposed to be a short trip.
I was simply visiting some family a couple states away for the week.
Nothing special.
Routine, even.
Rubbing my eyes, I grab my luggage and make my way towards the bus. Taking the bus wasn't my first choice but my car was in the shop and I can't afford airfare so here we are.
The station buzzes with early morning exhaustion.
People clutch coffee cups like lifelines.
A baby cries somewhere behind me.
Someone is loudly arguing with customer service.
Normal.
Painfully normal.
The kind of normal you never appreciate until it's gone.
At the time, I was mostly annoyed.
Annoyed at the bus.
Annoyed at my car.
Annoyed that I had to spend eight hours trapped with strangers instead of driving myself.
I shift my duffel bag higher onto my shoulder and join the line.
The closer I get to the bus, the more I debate turning around.
Not because I don't want to see my family.
I just don't particularly enjoy spending time with them.
Family gatherings always felt less like reunions and more like obligations.
Show up.
Smile.
Answer the same questions.
Pretend you're doing better than you actually are.
Then leave.
Go back to my cozy apartment and hide away from my problems.
Just one week, I tell myself. One week and then I can get back to normal.
The driver scans my ticket and waves me aboard.
I step onto the bus.
Scanning the bus, I notice how full it is. Its like when you board a plane to an obscure destination and realize how many people are headed there as well. Small world.
Making my way through the aisle, I plan my eight hour trip.
Music and sleep. I look forward to it.
Maybe a book if I'm feeling ambitious. Anything to make the trip go by faster.
I move down the aisle, searching for my seat.
Then I see him.
I stop so abruptly the person behind me nearly walks into my back.
No.
Absolutely not.
Three rows from the back, stretched out like he owns the damn bus, sits Randall.
His headphones are on. One arm is thrown over the empty seat beside him. His cocky demeanor already pisses me off.
And somehow, despite not even looking at me yet, he already looks irritating.
I stare. He stares out the window. Completely unaware that my day has just been ruined. There goes my peaceful trip.
Of all the buses.
Of all the routes.
Of all the people on the planet.
It had to be Randall.
I briefly consider getting off.
Not because I'm afraid of him.
That would be ridiculous.
I just don't think society needs to witness eight straight hours of whatever conversation we're inevitably going to have.
As if sensing my irritation through sheer force of will, Randall glances up.
Our eyes meet. His expression immediately darkens.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
I clutch my ticket tighter.
"Funny. I was about to say the same thing."
He drops his head back against the seat.
"Great."
"Great."
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Then Randall points toward the front of the bus.
"Pretty sure there are other seats."
I smile.
Not a nice smile.
"Pretty sure there aren't enough."
His eyes narrow. Mine do too.
The poor woman sitting across the aisle looks between us like she's witnessing a divorced couple at a custody hearing.
And honestly?
Fair.
I continue down the aisle and find my seat.
Then I stop.
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
I look at my ticket.
Then the seat.
Then my ticket again.
"Fuck," mumbling under my breath. What the hell did I do to deserve this?
Randall notices immediately.
His expression somehow manages to get worse.
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was."
Of course. Of course my assigned seat is directly across from him.
Because apparently I did something horrible in a past life.
I throw my bag into the seat harder than necessary and sit down.
The bus continues filling around us.
For a few glorious seconds, neither of us speaks.
Then-
"Thought you'd be driving."
I close my eyes.
I don't even look at him.
"My car's in the shop."
"Huh."
The sound irritates me more than it should.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No, what?"
Randall shrugs.
"You just seem like the type that'd rather drive eight hours alone than sit near people."
I turn toward him.
"I would."
"Yeah."
The agreement somehow annoys me even more.
I cross my arms.
"Why are you even here?"
He looks out the window.
"Taking the bus."
"Oh, thank God. Here I thought maybe you were training for a marathon."
That earns a glare.
Good.
At least I'm not suffering alone.
The driver begins her announcements. Neither of us listens.
Randall pulls his headphones over his ears.
I immediately feel relief.
Finally.
Silence.
I settle into my seat and pull out my phone.
Then I notice it.
His music is so loud I can hear it through the headphones.
I stare at him.
He stares out the window.
I stare harder.
Finally he turns.
"What?"
"Turn it down."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because now I don't want to."
I hate him. I genuinely hate him.
Three rows ahead, an older man glances back at us before deciding he wants absolutely no part in whatever this is.
Smart man.
The bus lurches forward.
The station slowly disappears behind us.
And just like that, we are trapped together for the next eight hours.
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
A couple hours pass.
Most of the bus has settled into that strange travel silence.
Some people are sleeping.
Others stare out the windows.
I try reading.
Try being the important word.
The bus hits a pothole.
My book slips from my lap and lands in the aisle. Naturally.
It slides directly beneath Randall's seat.
Of course it does.
I stare at it.
The book stares back.
Randall notices.
Unfortunately.
A grin immediately appears.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're thinking."
"I wasn't thinking anything."
"Liar."
He leans down, picks up the book, and flips it over.
His eyebrows rise.
"Oh."
My stomach sinks.
Give it back.
Immediately.
Instead, he reads the title.
Out loud.
Loud enough for me to hear.
Loud enough for me to know he's doing it on purpose.
"Oh my God."
"Give it back."
"You're reading this?"
"It's a book."
"It's embarrassing."
I hold my hand out.
"Randall."
He finally hands it over.
Still looking amused.
I shove it back into my bag.
"You're annoying."
"You've mentioned."
"Several times."
"At least you're consistent."
I roll my eyes and turn toward the window.
A few seconds pass.
Then my silence is interrupted, again.
"You know that ending sucks, right?"
My head snaps around.
"You read it?"
"Unfortunately."
I stare at him.
For some reason, that bothers me more than him making fun of it.
Then he shrugs.
"I got bored once."
I hate that answer.
I hate him.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against my seat. Just a few more hours, I think to myself. A few more hours and I'm free from this torment.
--
Just when I thought it was everything was becoming silent again.
There it was, the tree.
A tree in the goddamn middle of the road.
The bus slows to a stop.
For a second, nobody says anything.
We all just stare.
The thing is massive.
Its roots are torn from the earth, dirt and splintered wood scattered across the road.
There's no squeezing around it.
No driving over it.
Nothing.
The driver lets out a long sigh.
"Well."
A collective groan moves through the bus.
Someone curses from the back.
A woman near the front asks if there's another route.
The driver is already reaching for her radio.
I sink back into my seat.
Fantastic.
At this rate I'll see my family sometime next year.
Across from me, Randall leans forward and looks out the window.
"You've got to be kidding me."
His voice is low but annoyed enough for me to hear.
I glance at him.
"Wow."
"What?"
"I didn't realize nature personally hated you."
Randall shoots me a look.
"Shut up."
I smile.
A little.
"Having a rough day?"
"My day was fine until I got on this bus."
I laugh.
"Glad we're blaming the bus."
The driver stands and addresses everyone.
"Looks like we're going to have to turn around and find another route."
Another round of complaints follows.
Randall throws his head back against the seat.
"A detour."
The word comes out like a personal insult.
"It's not the end of the world."
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Randall immediately sits up.
"Oh, now you care?"
I blink.
"What?"
"You've spent the entire trip acting like you'd rather be anywhere else."
"I would."
"Exactly."
I stare at him.
He stares back.
Neither of us entirely sure how we got into another argument.
The poor woman across the aisle looks exhausted.
Honestly, same.
The bus finishes the turn and starts back down the road.
People settle in again.
Conversations resume.
Phones come back out.
Life continues.
Except now a strange feeling sits in my stomach.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Just a sense that something is wrong.
I glance out the window one last time.
The fallen tree is already disappearing behind us.
For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that it wasn't supposed to let us pass.
The thought makes no sense.
It's a tree.
Just a tree.
Yet the knot in my stomach only grows tighter.
I rub my palms against my jeans.
The motion doesn't help.
Neither does looking out the window.
The woods blur past.
Endless.
Unmoving.
Wrong.
I find myself checking the road behind us again.
Then checking it again.
And again.
As if I'm expecting to see something.
As if I'm waiting for something.
My knee begins bouncing.
The familiar feeling settles into my chest.
Panic.
Not yet. But close.
Close enough that I recognize it immediately.
God, I should've taken my meds with me.
It's been months since my last panic attack.
Months.
Now the warning signs are creeping in one by one.
The bouncing knee.
The tightness in my chest.
The feeling that I need to get up and move before I crawl out of my own skin.
I swallow hard.
Not here.
Please not here.
Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead of us.
And the knot in my stomach tightens.
I force myself to look away from the window.
This is ridiculous.
I'm sitting on a bus.
That's it.
Nothing is wrong.
Nothing is happening.
I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Slowly, the feeling begins to settle.
Not disappear.
Just retreat enough that I can think again.
Around me, the bus continues on as normal.
Someone is snoring near the front.
A couple quietly argue a few rows back.
The driver hums along to a song playing through the radio.
Normal.
Everything is normal.
I cling to that thought.
Across the aisle, Randall glances over again.
Only for a second.
Then another.
His headphones hang loosely around his neck now.
His gaze drifts toward the rear window.
Toward the road disappearing behind us.
Then back to me.
His expression tightens slightly.
Like he's trying to solve a puzzle. Like he's wondering if he missed something.
Eventually he shakes his head and looks away.
Whatever. Not his problem.
The bus rounds a bend in the road.
A few people sit up straighter.
The driver slows slightly.
Ahead, buildings begin appearing between the trees.
Small at first.
Barely visible.
Then more. And more.
A town. Finally.
A collective sigh of relief moves through the bus.
Even I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.
A town meant people.
Gas stations. Food. Directions.
Normal things.
"No, no, no, no," a young man mumbles a few seats behind me.
People exchange confused looks.
The man suddenly shoots to his feet.
His breathing becomes ragged.
Panicked.
Almost desperate.
"Stop the bus," he exclaims.
His chest heaves quickly, trying to get any ounce of air in.
"Bro, it's fine, we just took a little detour," someone behind me assures him.
This does nothing to calm him.
"We have to turn around. We can't be here. Please," his voice comes out desperate.
My heart picks up as I watch the young man come nearer to us.
He looks terrified.
Not nervous. Not upset.
Terrified.
The kind of fear that makes your body forget how to breathe.
"We have to leave right now!"
The desperation in his voice sends a chill down my spine.
Across from me, Randall pulls one of his headphones off.
Clearly annoyed. Clearly done with whatever this is becoming.
"We have to leave."
Nobody moves. Nobody knows what to do.
The driver is focused on the road.
The passengers are frozen.
The young man looks seconds away from completely losing it.
With an irritated sigh, Randall stands.
Immediately, I know this is going to end badly.
"Sit the fuck down, man."
The young man barely seems to hear him.
"We can't be here."
"Yeah, okay."
Randall steps into the aisle.
"Sit down."
The young man's eyes are wild now.
"No."
"We have to turn around."
Randall runs a hand down his face.
"You don't understand."
The young man takes another step backward.
Randall takes one forward.
"No, I understand."
His voice drips with impatience.
Randall reaches for him.
Not violently.
Just enough to stop him from stumbling farther down the aisle.
"Relax."
The young man jerks against his grip.
"No!"
A few passengers stand.
Someone tells Randall to let him go.
Someone else tells the young man to calm down.
The entire bus erupts into noise.
"We can't be here!" the young man shouts.
Randall tightens his grip on his shoulders.
"Take a breath."
Randall sounds thoroughly unimpressed.
The young man's breathing suddenly hitches.
His face turns an alarming shade of green.
I notice it immediately.
Unfortunately, Randall doesn't.
"Randall, wait"
Too late.
The young man lurches forward.
And throws up. Directly onto him.
The entire bus falls silent.
For one glorious second, nobody moves.
Nobody breathes.
Randall stands frozen.
Covered.
The young man immediately looks horrified.
"What the fuck."
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard it hurts.
Do not laugh.
Do not laugh.
A strangled sound escapes from somewhere behind me.
Someone else is losing the battle.
Randall slowly looks down at his shirt. Then at the young man. Then back at his shirt.
His expression somehow manages to become even angrier.
A small sound escapes me.
A snort.
God. No.
I immediately cough to cover it.
Unfortunately, it only makes it worse.
A laugh slips out.
Tiny. Barely audible.
But in the sudden silence of the bus, it might as well have been a scream.
Randall's head turns slowly.
Very slowly.
Our eyes meet.
My stomach drops.
Oops.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
Hard.
Trying desperately to look sympathetic. Trying desperately not to laugh again. It doesn't work.
The corner of my mouth twitches.
Randall points at me.
Actually points.
"Don't."
That only makes it harder.
"I didn't say anything."
"You laughed."
"I absolutely did not."
"You did."
His shirt is still covered in vomit.
That fact does not help my self-control. A second laugh escapes before I can stop it.
Randall looks toward the ceiling like he's asking for strength.
"Stop the goddamn bus," Randall shouts to the driver.
The bus finally comes to a stop.
Rain pounds against the windows.
People begin filing out of the bus, eager to stretch their legs after hours on the road.
I stay seated.
Mostly because I don't trust myself.
The second I look at Randall again, I'm going to lose it.
Unfortunately, the universe hates me.
Randall stands before me.
Still wearing the same shirt.
The poor guy looks absolutely miserable.
Good.
He notices me looking. Immediately.
"Don't."
My smile grows.
"I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to."
I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe a little."
"A little?"
I lose the battle.
A laugh escapes.
Gone almost immediately.
Randall closes his eyes.
The expression on his face suggests he's considering throwing me out of the emergency exit.
"You know," I say, standing and grabbing my own bag, "most people would change shirts."
"Most people didn't get vomited on."
"Fair."
He points at me.
Again.
"I mean it."
The warning only makes my shoulders shake harder.
The bus doors finally open.
Cold rain rushes inside.
Everyone immediately starts complaining.
One by one, passengers step out into the downpour.
I follow behind them.
The rain hits instantly.
Within seconds my hair sticks to my face.
Fantastic.
Ahead of me, Randall mutters several things that would probably make a priest faint.
For the first time all day, I almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
--
"I just need everyone to stay here while I clean up the bus," the driver tells all of us.
The rain let up and now I'm left with soggy clothes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see two men come running over. One of them seems to have a makeshift sling holding one of his arms.
The young man with the sling rushes to the driver and tries to catch his breath.
"Listen there is gonna be a bunch of people on their way down. Um, and there gonna help you guys out," the young man tells the driver., "So we'll get the diner unlocked and get you guys sorted out."
Unimpressed, the driver replies.
"Okay, well this isn't a pit stop, okay? So unless you have a mop, I'm good."
The young man has a defeated look on his face. Weird.
Before anyone can say anything else, movement catches my eye.
Someone is running toward us.
Fast.
A girl, probably a teenager.
"Ellis!"
She's soaked from the rain and breathing hard.
Terrified.
"Please!" she shouts.
Every head turns.
"It's my mom, she's trapped."
The panic in her voice immediately silences the crowd.
The young man, that I can assume is named Ellis, speaks.
"Wait? What?"
"She was digging in the basement, my dad's inside. She needs help, please," she pleads with Ellis.
The other man accompanying Ellis speaks up.
"Stay with the bus, okay? I got this."
He turns his attention to all of us.
"Hey, people! We got a little situation on our hands. Listen up. There's a woman trapped in the basement of that house over there. Her husband is inside. We could use some help."
Silence.
"Yeah, alright."
Immediately, I recognize the voice. Randall.
Another boy volunteers.
The elderly woman even tries to volunteer.
The bus driver shakes her head.
"I need everyone to stay by the bus."
Randall scoffs.
"Well, there's a woman trapped in there."
"Then let emergency services handle it," the bus driver replies.
"Oh, you're a peach," Randalls states. Sarcasm drips through his tone.
Typical.
Before anyone can reply, a van begins pulling up.
"Look you guys go, we can figure it out here," Ellis says, trying to keep the peace.
The man and the volunteers begins walking towards the house.
"Randall"
The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
He glances back.
For a second, I forget what I was even going to say.
Don't go? Be careful?
Neither makes any sense.
It's Randall.
He can do whatever he wants.
A corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile.
More like he already knows I don't have anything useful to add.
Then he gives a small nod. Like he's reassuring me.
The gesture catches me off guard.
Before I can figure out why, he turns away and continues after the others.
I watch him disappear around the corner of the building.
Something uncomfortable settles in my chest.
I immediately ignore it.
Not my problem. Not my business.
If Randall wants to go play hero for strangers, that's on him.
A young man walks up to us with a few people form the van. He seems to be some kind of deputy.
"Folks, sorry about the inconvenience here. Let's get you all inside, huh? Get some tea brewing. Get you all warmed up."
He opens up the diner doors and ushers us all inside.
My eyes drift back toward the street.
Toward the house. Toward where Randall disappeared.
The knot in my stomach tightens.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
--
I went in the diner for a few minutes but decided it was a bit too crowded for my liking.
Sitting on the steps of the diner, I see the young man who freaked out on the bus with a young woman who seemed to be some type of nurse.
'Let's go slow, okay? We can go inside and get some water."
The young man and woman slowly start walking towards the diner.
"You okay?"
The young man starts stuttering and he begins to fall to the ground.
He's seizing.
Rushing to my feet, I quickly make my way to them.
"We need some help!" The young woman shouts out.
The young deputy and teenage girl come bursting out of the diner.
"We need to get him on his side," The young woman directs us.
"One, two, three."
We all help the young woman push the man onto his side.
"It's okay, you're gonna be okay," I find myself speaking.
As much as I am reassuring the young man, I think I reassuring myself.
Suddenly, a low grumbling sounds in the distance.
Like something crumbling.
The deputy and young girl shoot up, leaving me and the other woman holding onto the seizing man.
Turning my head, I see the house that they ran into slowly crumbling.
My heart drops.
Randall.
That fucking idiot is getting himself killed.
"No, no, no." I begin mumbling under my breath.
Someone shouts.
People start running.
The house groans. Then collapses.
The sound is deafening.
Dust erupts into the air.
Wood. Concrete. Glass.
Everything comes crashing down at once.
For a moment, the entire town seems to freeze.
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
I can't breathe.
Can't think.
The image plays over and over in my head.
Randall walking toward the house.
Randall disappearing inside.
Randall—
My feet are moving before I realize it.
I forget about helping the young man. As if somehow I can do something. As if somehow I can help.
The house is gone. Completely gone. A pile of rubble.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
A sick feeling twists through my stomach.
Not panic. Not exactly.
Just something ugly.
Something cold.
Because all I can think is-
He was in there.
That fucking idiot was in there.
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hi! i decided to write a chapter of my potential randall fic, let me know what you think :)
-nora
xoxo
