Simon Barker

He was familiar with equations.

But this one didn't add up.

If what he saw wasn't real, then how was he holding the woman's cane in his hand?

Unless none of this was real, not even the bus.

Maybe he'd never even woken up that morning, and this was all some crazy dream.

If that were the case, he desperately wanted to wake up.

But how?

He pinched his skin, amazed at how real the pain felt.

He'd never had a dream this vivid before, and he never wanted to again if he could help it.

Goosebumps rose over his arm, and he looked outside to find that the city had disappeared in a thick cloud of fog.

So lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the change, and now only the occasional streetlight burst through the gloom.

Now, he felt more suffocated than ever, trapped in this box with strangers, veering down a road to nowhere.

Dream or no dream, he would make an exit.

Simon always carried a pocketknife with him just in case.

His grandfather had taught him that.

So far, he'd only ever needed it to cut open packages or a loose thread on his sweater, and he'd never dreamed of using it as a weapon.

But these were desperate times.

The knife opened with a click, and Simon left the cane on the seat as he approached the driver again.

He had no idea how she could see through the fog, but she seemed relaxed and in control.

Not for long.