Last Bus of Route 13

The Business School at night looked eerily terrifying under the moonlight. The playground was littered with broken tiles and bricks, and as soon as I stepped into the campus, I felt a chill run down my spine.

I caught sight of the boy darting into the Teaching Building number one, right across the playground. Without wasting any time, I hurried after him.

The building was in a state of disrepair; most of the window panes were missing, leaving the interior shrouded in darkness. The entrance door had long been reduced to rubble. I took a deep breath, clenched my fists, and stepped inside.

The lobby on the first floor was vast and empty, with a grandfather clock standing by the staircase. It reminded me of the murderous copper bell from the company, sending a shiver down my spine. The place was dim and cold, making one’s back tingle with unease. It was not a place to linger. I stood in the lobby and shouted:

“Younger brother, come out now! This isn’t a place to fool around!”

My voice echoed through the abandoned building, hauntingly ethereal.

After my shout, the boy gave no response, leaving me both scared and worried. I cursed inwardly, thinking: This brat really has a screw loose, running here in the middle of the night without fear!

I recalled Sister-in-law saying the boy had accidentally wandered into the school when he was younger, which led to his current state of being haunted. Now that he’s back, who knows what might happen? I needed to find him quickly.

Looking at the staircase stretching into darkness, I felt a storm brewing inside me. I had to do it! I pulled out my mobile phone, gritted my teeth, and made my way upstairs.

The second floor had no lobby, just classrooms. I walked through the corridor, scattered with discarded books, checking each empty classroom, feeling an inexplicable sense of panic.

The Business School was rumored to be haunted, but why, and by what kind of ghosts, I had no idea. This ignorance about the dark void added to my fear!

With trembling legs, I navigated the corridor using the light from my mobile phone. I passed a classroom labeled “Customs Class One.” This classroom had no door; the glass blackboard was riddled with cracks from being smashed, and the desks and chairs were strewn all over the place.

This class must have had a fight, right?

Back in school, the most badass way to retaliate against classmates was to smash their classroom’s blackboard. But honestly, if the blackboard was broken, the school should have replaced it immediately. Why was it still shattered?

“Younger brother? Where are you?”

The corridor was too dark, and I was getting more frightened as I walked, not daring to shout loudly. I only called out softly, hoping the mischievous boy would hear and stop hiding.

No response, just silence.

The Teaching Building had four floors, countless classrooms. If the boy was hiding under a desk in one of the rooms, I really wouldn’t be able to find him.

I had cursed the boy countless times in my mind, thinking if he were my son, I wouldn’t hesitate to kick him.

He didn’t answer my calls, and I wasn’t sure if he was deliberately ignoring me or if I was searching in the wrong places.

While pondering this, I reached the end of the corridor after a lot of searching.

I had checked both sides of the classrooms and called out softly in each. If the last classroom was empty, I was considering whether to continue upstairs.

I cautiously approached the last classroom in the corridor, which had a sign that read: Accounting and Auditing.

The entire second-floor hallway was littered with torn books and discarded papers, yet strangely, the area outside this particular classroom was remarkably clean, devoid of any clutter.

As I reached the door, I noticed it was tightly shut. Most classrooms on this floor didn’t even have doors, but this one was closed. The boy must be hiding inside!

I steeled myself and slowly pushed the door open. The creaking sound of the wooden door echoed eerily down the hallway.

“Are you in there?”

“Younger brother, are you in there?” I called softly, peeking inside.

With the help of my mobile phone and the moonlight, I could see the room’s interior, and it took me by surprise.

This classroom was completely different from the rest of the floor. All the desks and chairs were neatly arranged, and there were still chalk marks from a teacher’s lecture on the blackboard.

I knew that most students studying accounting were girls; maybe that’s why it was so tidy?

I stepped inside and noticed a square mirror hanging at the far end of the blackboard, near the window. Despite the dimness of the room, the mirror should have reflected some light from the window, but from my angle, it appeared completely dark, without any shine.

I entered the classroom and began checking under all the desks for any hiding spots. There was nothing-no sign of the boy in this classroom.

After inspecting the last row of desks near the window, my attention was drawn to the mirror again. It was pitch black, and as I stared at it, I felt an inexplicable urge to move closer.

The impulse was overwhelming, and my legs moved forward involuntarily. Just as I was about to lean in for a closer look, a hand suddenly landed on my arm!

I snapped back to reality, startled, and turned around quickly. It was a middle-aged man with a bald head, dressed in a blue work uniform. He gripped my arm nervously and said:

“Don’t look at that mirror. Come with me.”

I had been so focused on finding the boy that I hadn’t heard any footsteps. When did this uncle appear?

I looked at him in shock, and without giving me a chance to react, he pulled me by the sleeve and dragged me out of the classroom.

Once in the hallway, I shook off his hand and asked warily:

“Uncle, who are you?”

With a serious expression, he replied:

“I’m the gatekeeper of this school, watching the entrance.”

Gatekeeper!

This school had been abandoned for over twenty years. What kind of gate was he guarding?

Summoning some courage, I blurted out:

“Uncle, how many years have you been dead?”

The middle-aged man paused, glanced anxiously at the classroom, and then grabbed my sleeve again, leading me downstairs.

He held on tight, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t shake him off. He led me down to the first floor and into the Mail Room.

I hadn’t noticed earlier, but this Mail Room was actually lit. The furniture was neatly arranged, and there was a small bed with a radio on it, playing a storytelling program.

Did he really live here?

Uncle pulled me into the room, closed the door behind us, and asked, “Where did you come from? It’s so late, what are you wandering around here for?”

The way he spoke, filled with concern and urgency, made him seem like a real uncle, and being brought to a place that felt alive gave me a sense of security.

I glanced at him, not answering his question, and asked cautiously again, “This school has been abandoned for so long, there’s not a soul around. What are you guarding here?”

Uncle must have realized that unless he explained things clearly, I wouldn’t respond. With a serious expression, he said, “Who says there’s no one? Aren’t you a person? I’ve worked at this school for over thirty years. When it was abandoned, I moved in.”

I stared at him, feeling that his words seemed both true and untrue.

“The school is abandoned, who pays you? What’s the point of staying here?”

Without a pause, Uncle waved his hand and replied, “I’ve worked here for so long, I’ve grown attached and don’t want to leave. How am I useless here? I keep people out and don’t let ghosts escape.”

Keep people out, don’t let ghosts escape!

Uncle said this with such righteousness, without blinking an eye, as if it were indeed true.

“Are you a Yin-Yang master?”

Uncle shook his head and said, “Not exactly a Yin-Yang master, but I learned a bit after the incident at the school.”

After saying this, Uncle asked, “Now tell me, what are you doing here so late at night?”

Listening to the gatekeeper uncle speak so earnestly, he didn’t seem like a bad person, so I said, “A colleague’s kid ran in here, and I’m looking for him. Didn’t you see a kid run in just now while you were in this little room?”

Uncle frowned and said, “I saw him, but he didn’t listen when I called out. He dashed upstairs in no time. I was just going upstairs to find him and didn’t notice when you came in.”

Uncle’s words seemed reasonable, so I replied, “Then let’s hurry and find him. This place isn’t haunted, but it’s dangerous for a kid to run around.”

Uncle opened a drawer, took out a flashlight, and handed it to me, saying, “The kid’s in danger, but we need to stay alive too. When looking for him, just check places where someone could hide under tables and chairs. Don’t do anything foolish like looking into mirrors again.”

I took the flashlight and asked, “What’s with the mirror?”

Uncle didn’t explain about the mirror. He opened the door and led me out, saying, “I just came down from the third floor; there’s no one there. The kid must have run up to the fourth floor. Let’s head to the fourth floor. We must find him before midnight.”

I asked nervously, “What happens after midnight?”

Uncle’s face grew stern as he slowly said, “If we don’t find him by midnight, we can’t worry about the kid anymore. We need to stay on the first floor and let him fend for himself.”

Uncle didn’t say it outright, but I understood what he meant. After midnight, we’d have to save ourselves too.

I glanced at the time. It was past ten at night, a little over an hour until midnight. With only the fourth floor left, we should have enough time.

With flashlights in hand, we climbed up to the fourth floor. The fourth floor was no different from the second floor, with rows of classrooms on either side of the corridor. We each took a side, peeking into each classroom, but the kid was well hidden, and we found nothing.

We searched half the classrooms along the corridor but found no one. I was sweating with anxiety, and just as I wiped my brow, I suddenly heard laughter coming from downstairs.

The sound came abruptly and disappeared quickly. I froze in place, cold sweat breaking out, and looked at the uncle, asking, “Uncle, did you hear laughter from downstairs?”

The uncle emerged from a classroom, frowned, and whispered, “Didn’t hear it. Was it a man’s voice or a woman’s?”

“It didn’t sound like the boy we’re looking for. It was a woman’s laughter.”

The uncle lowered his head and said coldly, “Ignore it, keep searching.”

With that, he peeked into another classroom.

I felt uneasy. Besides the boy, there were only the two of us in this building! Yet there was a woman’s laughter echoing. I dared not think too much and continued searching.

One room after another, still nothing. We checked under every desk in most of the corridor’s classrooms, but no one was there.

Could something have happened? As I pondered, the laughter from downstairs rang out again. If I was tense and misheard earlier, this time it was clear and sharp, like a group of schoolgirls playing around.

The sound sent chills down my spine, the eerie laughter bouncing through the empty corridor, as if those laughing girls were running back and forth.

This time, the middle-aged man surely heard it too. He glanced at me and said sternly, “Ignore it, keep searching.”

Suppressing my fear, I followed the gatekeeper and checked all the classrooms on the fourth floor, leaving only the last multimedia classroom.

When we pushed open the door, we were dumbfounded. The multimedia classroom was filled with countless desks and chairs scattered everywhere. If the boy was hiding here, how long would it take to find him?

We couldn’t afford to delay. We split up and continued searching, but after covering most of the classroom, still no sign of him. I was getting anxious and pulled out my mobile phone to check the time-11:40 PM!

We needed to hurry. I lost my initial patience, merely shining the flashlight over places as I went. After a while of this hasty inspection, the uncle finally reminded me.

“It’s 11:55. We can’t keep searching. We need to get back to the first floor, let’s go.”

According to the uncle, if we didn’t find the boy by midnight, something indescribable would surely happen. Was this really giving up on him?

I thought of the sister-in-law’s tearful, pitiful face. If something happened to the boy, how could she, a widow, continue to live? I couldn’t bear to give up like this. I responded to the uncle but kept shining the flashlight and calling softly.

There was only one last row left. We had searched three floors, just this last row to go. As I was about to head over, the uncle grabbed me, his eyes wide, shouting, “It’s fifty-three! Hurry up, hurry…”

I broke free from him and said, “Uncle, you go down first. I’ll check this last row of desks.” With that, I squeezed through the gap toward the last row.

Seeing he couldn’t move me, the uncle sighed helplessly and hesitated a few steps before leaving the multimedia classroom.

With the flashlight in hand, I had only one thought: I must get this boy out!

As I reached the last row of desks, I noticed a chair blocking the front of a desk, looking suspicious. I moved the chair aside and saw Wei Youzhi’s son curled up under the desk.

I was furious. Despite all the shouting, he hadn’t responded. This kid was stubborn to a fault.

I didn’t care if he was hurt or not, pulled him out, and dragged him down a couple of steps. Suddenly, the laughter of the schoolgirls downstairs grew louder and seemed to be getting closer!

I felt a chill and broke out in a cold sweat, checking my mobile phone:

12:01 AM!!!