The old night bus rumbled along the lonely highway, its headlights slicing through the darkness. Outside, the rain had just stopped, leaving the road glistening beneath the pale moonlight.

Inside the nearly empty bus were only five passengers.

Luna, you shift in your seat, your head resting against the window, trying to ignore the rhythmic thud of the tires against the wet pavement.

Arjun sat near the back, dressed in a black hoodie, earphones in, quietly reading a book. He barely looked up at anyone.

A few seats ahead, Min Ho leaned against the window, lazily watching the passing trees. Every now and then, he hummed softly to himself.

Riya, a cheerful college student, scrolled through her phone, occasionally sighing whenever the signal disappeared.

Chris, carrying a hiking backpack, was half asleep with his cap covering his eyes.

At the wheel, the middle-aged driver yawned as the bus continued through the deserted forest road.

Everything was quiet... Until—

SCREECH!

The bus came to an abrupt stop. Everyone jerked forward. Sending a collective jolt through the cabin. People stir from their half-slumber.

Up front, the driver slams his hand against the steering wheel, his face pale in the dim glow of the dashboard.

Riya grabbed the seat in front of her. "Whoa! What happened?"

Chris pulled off his cap. "Flat tire?"

The driver frowned through the windshield, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. "Damn it... Someone's standing in the middle of the road. They're not moving."

The atmosphere instantly turned tense.

Min Ho stood and looked ahead. "At this hour?"

Arjun slowly removed one earbud and glanced toward the front, his expression unreadable.

The figure in the road remains perfectly still, illuminated only by the weak, yellowish glow of the bus headlights.

It looks human, but there is something unnervingly wrong with the way it stands—hunched, motionless, ignoring the blaring horn the driver is now leaning on.

"Why would someone be out here in this weather?" Riya whispers, her voice trembling.

The driver swallowed hard. "I'll go check." He reached for the folding door lever.

The driver's hand is already on the door release, his knuckles white as he prepares to step out into the downpour.

You stand up, your voice firm, cutting through the low murmur of the bus "Wait! Stop".

The driver paused with his hand on the lever and turned toward you. "I have to see if they're hurt, miss! It’s pitch black out there, I can barely—"

Everyone's eyes shifted to you.

The dim cabin lights flickered once as silence settled over the bus.

You command, pointing toward the windshield. "Look at the posture. No human stands like that. It’s... it’s wrong."

The driver hesitates, his hand freezing on the lever. He frowned "What do you mean?"

Arjun stands up, moving toward the front with controlled, silent steps. He leans in, peering through the glass right next to you.

His jaw tightens. "She's right," Arjun murmurs, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "Look at the arms. They're hanging at an impossible angle. They aren't shivering, and they aren't trying to flag us down."

Min-ho walks up from the back, his movements fluid and cautious. He pushes his bangs back, his eyes narrowing as he studies the figure.

 "He's not breathing," Min-ho observes, his voice cool and analytical. "Look at the shoulders. No rise and fall. Whatever that is... it's not waiting for a ride."

The figure's head was tilted at an unnatural angle—far too much for a normal person. One arm hung limply by its side, while the other was bent awkwardly behind its back.

Riya lets out a soft, panicked sob, pulling at the sleeve of your jacket. "Please, tell him not to open the door. Just drive around them!"

Chris finally peels himself out of his seat, wandering forward with a skeptical look on his face. "Are you guys seriously scared of a hitchhiker? Maybe they're just drunk or something."

As if sensing they were watching... The figure's head twitched.

Then— Snap.

The figure in the road twitches—not a normal human movement, but a sharp, unnatural jerk of the neck. It begins to shamble toward the bus, its movements stiff and erratic, and the light from the headlamps catches a glimpse of its face. It’s gray, gaunt, and the jaw hangs loose in a way that suggests it's broken.

The driver jumps back, his face turning ghostly white as he stares at you, his hand hovering over the door lock.

No one inside the bus spoke.

Arjun's voice remained calm but firm "Don't open the door."

Min Ho nodded, his usual relaxed smile completely gone "Lock every entrance."

The creature’s head snaps up, and for a terrifying second, its hollow, milky eyes lock directly onto yours through the windshield.

It lets out a guttural, wet sound—a screech that doesn't belong to a human throat. Behind it, from the treeline bordering the dark highway, more shapes begin to emerge, stumbling out of the shadows like broken dolls brought to life.

"They're coming," you hiss, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Drive! Forget the protocols, forget the route—just drive!"

The driver snaps out of his paralysis. He slams the bus into gear, the engine roaring in protest as he stomps on the accelerator. The bus lurches forward, the tires spinning momentarily on the slick asphalt before gripping the road.

Chris falls back into his seat with a thud, his face now drained of all color. "What the hell was that? Did you see those eyes? That... that thing was rotting!"

Arjun doesn't waste time panicking. He moves toward the stairwell, bracing himself against the metal pole as the bus swerves sharply to avoid the first creature.

 "Everyone, get down! Get away from the windows!" he barks, his voice commanding. "If they can climb, we’re sitting ducks in this glass cage."

Min-ho is already scanning the bus, his eyes darting from the emergency equipment to the side exits. He looks at you, his expression grim. "He's right. If we don't know what we're dealing with, we need a plan. Does anyone have a weapon? A fire extinguisher? A tire iron?"

Outside, the bus clips one of the figures, the sickening thud vibrating through the floorboards. Riya screams, burying her face in her hands, while the driver fights to keep the bus steady on the winding road.

"I'm not stopping for anything!" the driver yells, his eyes wide and wild in the rearview mirror. "I'm heading for the city outskirts—there's a main station there!"

"No!" Arjun shouts back. "If they're everywhere, the city is a trap! We need to go somewhere defensible!"

The bus roars down the slick asphalt, the engine straining as it leaves the nightmare of the roadblock behind.

In the periphery of the headlights, you catch glimpses of the creatures stumbling in the treeline, their pace lethargic and uncoordinated.

 They aren't sprinters; they are heavy, dragging shadows that struggle to gain traction on the mud.

"They're slow," you observe, your voice steadying as you watch the figures fall rapidly behind. You grip the overhead rail, bracing against the swaying of the bus.

 "Look at them—they can barely keep their balance. They aren't hunters like in the movies; they’re sluggish."

Arjun glances out the side window, his tactical jacket tight across his shoulders. He nods in agreement, his expression hardening. "You're right. They're sluggish, but there are too many of them back there. They must be drawn to the density of the forest, or maybe the cover of the canopy."

Min-ho leans over the driver’s shoulder, keeping a watchful eye on the road ahead. "He’s right about the city being a death trap, but we can't stay on the main highway forever. If the infection is concentrated in the woods or dark patches, we need to find an open, elevated area. A wide clearing or a well-lit facility."

Chris is hyperventilating, his bravado completely shattered. He stares at his own trembling hands. "What are you talking about? 'Infection'? Are you saying this is... an outbreak?"

Riya looks up from her lap, her eyes red-rimmed but focused on you. "You're the only one who didn't lose your head back there. Where do we go? If the forest is their playground, where is safe?"

The bus continues to barrel forward, the high beams cutting through the gloom. The road begins to rise, leading away from the heavy thicket and toward the flatter, industrial outskirts.

Ahead, you can see the distant, flickering glow of a lone, isolated refueling station, its bright fluorescent lights hummed with electricity—a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the woods you just escaped.

The driver looks back to everyone, sweat beading on his forehead. "There's a gas station up ahead with bright floodlights. It's an open lot—easy to see if anything is approaching. Do we risk stopping to check for supplies, or do we keep driving until the fuel gauge hits empty?"

The bus begins to decelerate, the screech of the brakes echoing through the empty, eerie silence of the night as the station comes into view.

The fluorescent lights hum with a sharp, sterile intensity, casting long, stark shadows across the cracked concrete of the forecourt. It looks like an oasis, but in the current climate, it feels more like a stage for an ambush.