Last Bus of Route 13

With the clock striking past midnight, my heart was pounding in my throat as I hurriedly led the boy towards the door. But before we could reach it, the laughter outside grew louder, as if it was right there in the hallway. The boy, now frightened by the eerie sounds, stopped in his tracks and whispered, “Uncle, I’m scared.”

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and amusement. Now he was scared, but when he was running wild through the building, fear was the last thing on his mind. However, this was not the time for a lecture. I swallowed my frustration and focused on the classroom door, trying to figure out a way to handle the situation.

The laughter outside turned increasingly bizarre. What started as cheerful giggles now sounded sinister and helpless, chilling to the bone. We were trapped; the laughter seemed to hover just outside in the corridor. There was something ghostly out there!

I quickly pulled over a desk and chair to barricade the door, pulling the boy back with me to the steps at the back of the classroom, eyes fixed on those two doors. Minutes passed, and the laughter in the hallway gradually faded into an eerie silence.

The most terrifying thing wasn’t just the spine-chilling sounds; it was the unsettling quiet that followed the chaos.

“Thump… thump…”

In the silence that lasted for several minutes, I could clearly hear my own heartbeat.

Were we going to spend the entire night here?

I noticed the classroom window and quickly pulled the boy over to it. Due to the age of the building, the windows had no glass. If we wanted to escape, jumping out was the only option.

But this was the fourth floor, and in the pitch-black night, jumping out would likely result in broken bones, if not worse.

As I hesitated, there was a loud “bang” as something hit the classroom door. Fortunately, the desk and chair held, and the door didn’t burst open.

I swallowed hard in fear, turning the flashlight to its brightest setting, keeping my eyes glued to the door. But then it hit me-if it was a ghost, would it really need to break down the door?

As I stood there in a daze, the boy tugged at my sleeve and said, “Older brother, there’s a sister standing behind us.”

A sister standing behind us? I scoffed inwardly, imagining the scene but not daring to look back. I picked up the boy, ready to jump out the window.

Faced with the choice between a broken leg and life, I chose life.

Just as I was about to step onto the window ledge, there was another “bang,” and the door finally burst open. A figure rushed in, and in my panic, I nearly jumped. Suddenly, a searing pain shot across my back, as if something had clawed at me.

With my eyes shut, one leg already dangling in the air, the figure darted over and grabbed my collar, yanking me back inside.

I sprawled on the floor, flashlight in hand, frantically shining it forward.

It was the gatekeeper uncle!

Seeing my stunned expression, he quickly pulled me up and pointed at the door, shouting, “Run!”

I got to my feet, grabbed the boy, and followed the uncle out of the multimedia classroom.

The laughter in the hallway had vanished. The uncle led the way, and I followed closely behind, flashlight in hand.

As we reached the corner of the second floor, just about to move forward, the boy tugged me back. I turned around anxiously to see him standing still. I asked urgently, “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

The boy burst into tears. “My foot is being held, I can’t move!”

I quickly shone the flashlight at his feet. A pale arm was gripping the boy’s ankle tightly!

I was about to kick it away, but the gatekeeper uncle beat me to it, delivering a swift kick. The arm seemed to fear him, retreating immediately. As soon as the arm withdrew, the eerie laughter echoed again.

The sharp, chilling laughter came from the accounting classroom at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I decided to carry the boy on my back. The gatekeeper uncle frowned, pointing downward, and said, “You take him out, I’ll hold them off!”

I was taken aback. “You hold them off? Uncle, you’re scared of ghosts too, how can you manage?”

The uncle, eyes fixed on the hallway’s end, shouted, “Didn’t I tell you I’ve learned a bit? Stop talking and get downstairs!”

Though I doubted he could handle the ghosts, especially since he was so frightened at midnight, the boy was on my back. Clenching my teeth, I shouted for him to take care and rushed down the stairs.

Looking back from the bottom of the stairs, the uncle was already swallowed by darkness. Worried, I took the boy to the Mail Room, and with a serious tone, instructed, “Listen carefully, stay in this room, don’t go anywhere until I come back, got it?”

The boy, now truly scared, nodded repeatedly. I turned to head back upstairs to find the gatekeeper uncle when the boy called out, “Older brother, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

I always thought this kid was unruly and a bit off, but hearing him apologize caught me off guard. I turned back and said, “It’s alright, just listen this time, stay put here.”

With that, I opened the door to leave, but the boy added, “It was Mom who told me to do it.”

My foot, still in midair, paused as I turned back, puzzled. “What did you say? Your mom told you to do what?”

“Mom told me to run into the school.”

This left me completely dumbfounded. Wasn’t he the one who ran in like a madman? How could he blame his mom?

I wanted to get to the bottom of it but was more worried about the gatekeeper uncle’s safety. Suppressing my curiosity, I told him, “Stay here and behave, we’ll talk when I get back.”

With that, I rushed out and headed to the second floor.

The scene on the second floor wasn’t as grim as I feared. There were no intense confrontations or bloody messes. The gatekeeper uncle quietly descended the stairs, though he looked utterly exhausted.

I hurried over and asked anxiously, “Uncle, are you alright?”

His face pale, he waved it off and said, “I’m fine, let’s go back.”

Supporting him, I quickly helped him back to the Mail Room.

The boy, surprisingly cooperative this time, was sitting on the bed in a daze. Seeing us return, he stood up timidly.

I helped the uncle onto the bed and turned to get him a glass of water. The uncle remarked with surprise, “Young man, you’re hurt pretty badly.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that I truly felt discomfort. A sharp pain spread across my back in waves.

I recalled when I was about to jump with the little boy, something had clawed at my back fiercely. My nerves had been so tense that I hadn’t felt the pain then, but now, as I relaxed, the piercing pain was truly bone-deep, making me restless!

I took off my shirt and looked in the mirror, revealing five bloody gashes on my back!

Calling them gashes was no exaggeration; five finger-width ridges of flesh were raised, a mess of blood and raw skin!

The boy saw the state of my back and burst into tears again.

Initially, I was thoroughly annoyed with this kid, but seeing his timid demeanor, my irritation had already diminished by half.

“Stop crying. I’m fine. Just make sure you listen from now on. You really shouldn’t come to this place again.”

The boy wiped his tears and nodded, saying, “I won’t come again. Even if my mom tells me to, I won’t.”

Right, when I was about to go out to save the uncle, this kid said something shocking that I hadn’t had the chance to ask him about. So I asked, “You said your mom told you to come here, is that true?”

The boy nodded and said, “When you came to our house, mom secretly told me to run out when you were leaving and come to the school to wait for you to save me.”

I was stunned upon hearing this. When I visited their house, the boy suddenly covered his head and screamed, and my sister-in-law went into the bedroom, closing the door for about ten minutes before coming out. Was it during that time she instructed the boy? But why would she do that? He’s her own son; wouldn’t that be harming her child?

My sister-in-law might be hiding something from me, and I couldn’t figure it out. I asked, “Do you know if your dad had a box of diary books?”

The boy nodded and said, “Yes, dad wrote in his diary every day. Mom hid his diary books under the cabinet and takes them out to read every day.”

I swallowed hard, completely dumbfounded. My sister-in-law had lied.

It turns out that when she was rummaging through the house looking for the diary, it was all an act for me. She had hidden the diary herself.

The uncle, hearing our conversation, was puzzled and asked, “What are you two talking about?”

I suddenly remembered what my sister-in-law had told me about the boy sneaking into the school and encountering a ghost when he was little. I asked the uncle, “Uncle, his mom said this kid sneaked into the school and got haunted by a ghost when he was little. You know a bit about Yin-Yang stuff, could you take a look at him?”

The uncle nodded, pulled the boy closer, and looked him over, saying, “He’s fine. This kid is clean, hasn’t been bothered by any evil spirit.”

No evil spirit?

I asked the boy, puzzled, “Do you feel unwell? Yesterday in the bedroom, you were holding your head and shouting?”

The boy lowered his head and said quietly, “My head hurts. It’s always hurt since I was little.”

The uncle glanced at him and said coldly, “No evil spirit, it’s a real illness. Just go to the hospital.”

I finally felt relieved, but at the same time, I began to have doubts about Wei Youzhi’s wife in my mind!

I wanted to take the boy outside, but the uncle was worried that the “ghosts” might follow us out, so he asked us to stay in his little room, which was protected by some sort of spell.

Soon, the little boy fell asleep, and I started chatting with the gatekeeper uncle.

“Uncle, you’re not really a Yin-Yang master, so how long are you going to keep guarding this haunted abandoned building?”

The uncle nodded with a smile and said, “Many people have tried to persuade me over the years. I’ve been doing this since I was young, and there are just too many memories here. I can’t bring myself to leave.”

I sighed. The older generation often has a sentimental attachment to old places. This uncle has dedicated his youth to this school, and it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to leave.

“By the way, uncle, what’s the deal with the haunting upstairs?”

The uncle’s eyes grew somber as he recalled, “About twenty years ago, this was a college. I worked here in logistics, doing odd jobs. The students affectionately called me Uncle Zhou, and the school leaders took good care of me. Everything was fine.”

He let out a long sigh.

“Then, in the accounting classroom on the second floor, a little girl died. From that point on, one person died every day. It was particularly tragic.”

“One person died every day?” I asked, frowning in surprise.

“Yes, initially it was one per day, but later on, groups of three or five started jumping off the building together. We couldn’t stop them.”

The ghosts were upstairs, and here we were, talking about their past lives in this room. It was a bit too intense. I lit a cigarette, took a puff, and said, “Uncle, this is pretty scary. Let’s not talk about it anymore. We can discuss it later.”

The uncle gave a bitter smile. “It’s okay. This room is safe, and it’s rare to have someone to talk to. Let me tell you, it makes me feel better.”

My life was saved by the uncle, so I gritted my teeth and thought, if he wants to talk, let him.

Seeing me nod, the uncle continued, “That’s how it was. Some committed suicide, others jumped off the building. Half of the little girls in the accounting classroom died. The school leaders realized it was serious and quickly gave the whole school a holiday. But who would have thought, those girls who were on holiday actually snuck back at night. I happened to be on duty during the holiday. These kids usually had a good relationship with me. They wanted to return to their classroom. At first, I disagreed, but I couldn’t resist their pleading, so I let them in. And then…”

As the uncle spoke, tears uncontrollably streamed down his face.

“And then, this batch of girls who had survived ended up committing suicide in the classroom too! Their deaths were even more gruesome. Some of the children even cut off their own heads.”

I was stunned by what I heard. The cigarette I had lit had burned down to the end. With trembling hands, I stubbed it out and asked, “With so many deaths at the school, why were these little girls so bold to come back? What were they doing?”

The uncle sighed again.

Later, I learned a bit of Yin-Yang techniques and realized that those girls had already been bewitched at the time. They all sneaked out from home, telling me they were going back to the classroom to retrieve something. One was scared and brought her friends along, saying it would only take a few minutes. My heart softened, and I let them in. It’s all my fault. I should have stopped them. I shouldn’t have let them in. It’s all my fault…”

The uncle grew more agitated as he spoke, his body convulsing, tears flowing like a flood.

I started to understand why the uncle insisted on staying at this abandoned school. He likely blamed himself for the students’ deaths, and it was the guilt and remorse from within that kept him from resolving his inner turmoil.

After a long silence, I asked, “Why did those girls commit suicide? What was the root cause?”

The uncle calmed down for a moment and then said, “Because of the mirror in their classroom…”