The bus continued to struggle on the hill, moving up a foot or two, rolling back a foot or two. It's engine would rev up really high yet the wheels would not spin. I stood there wanting to help in someway. All I had was the shovel in my hand. If I only had a board or something to jam underneath the rear tire of the bus, then it could get some grip instead of the wet icy snow. I thought about this as the bus slid back abruptly against the curb. The weight of the bus against the curb startled me a bit. I was beginning to get nervous.
Inside some people continued to look at me. I was the only person there. After a while, more of them started to notice me. Soon, people were talking and pointing at me. They were looking angry. The bus driver then got involved yelling at everyone to be quiet and stay calm as he struggled to get the bus free . Some people were talking to him and pointing at me. Half the people were standing up by now when the rear door flung open and the noise from the group could be heard.
"Look! He did it! He did this!" cried one man.
"We're all stuck here because of him. I need to get home because my daughter is getting hungry." yells one woman.
"I have an exam tomorrow and now I'm stuck here on this bus. How am I supposed to get any studyingdone tonight?" cries a young man.
Another young man steps in front of the group. "Lets get him!"
I take a step back, turn around and start running. The mob follows and the chase is on. Down the dark alley to the next block my heart is racing. The adrenaline is kicking in and the physical stress becomes unnoticeable. Behind me the sound of all the passengers including the bus driver could be heard. They are shouting and flailing their arms in the air.
"He's getting away!"
I still don't notice my heavy breathing. It seems almost effortless as the group behind me fall behind. Only some of the younger men are keeping up. The women and children drop off. The bus driver has already turned around. I can do this. I can escape! My shovel has been abandoned a few hundred meters ago. It is just me alone running in the streets. But then, my lungs start to hurt. A cramp develops in my stomach. The adrenaline is fading away and the initial fight or flight reaction has worn off. My pace slows. I am out of shape. The few younger men catch up to me as I have to stop and catch my breath. I feel something hit me in the stomach, then my face before falling unconscious. The three young men drag me on the ground by the top of my jacket all the way back to the bus in the snow.
I wake up feeling numb in various parts of my body. My shoulders are tight. My jacket is all torn. Something rough and itchy is wrapped around my neck but it is loose. I strain to turn my head downward and see that all the snow which I had shovelled off the sidewalk and onto the road was now in a huge pile beneath me. I was in it up to my shoulders and my arms have been bound against my sides. Above me was the lamp post. The itchy thing around my neck was a noose with the other end tied to the top of the lamp post high above the street. How in the world did they get the rope up there I wonder. For the time being I was being held up by the huge pile of snow eight feet off the ground. The group of passengers all stood around the base of the snow pile around me below and in a circle. The streets were empty. There was no one to help.
"Maybe next time you'll think twice before you shove all that snow onto the road by the bus stop for the bus to get stuck in" one person remarks. Half the other people were jeering and yelling at the same time. Another person was waving my shovel in the air when the bus driver comes in front to quiet the crowd.
"Now now people... lets get on with this." he says. "Hey little girl, please do us the honour of lighting the fire." The bus driver hands a small torch to a young girl who looks no more than five or six years old.
"Go ahead honey, take the torch and light the oil" says the mother to her daughter. It was the woman who had complained about her daughter getting hungry after having to wait on the bus.
"But mommy, I'm cold, when's dinner?" the little girl cries.
"Soon my dear, soon. Just light the oil with the torch so we can leave now." The girl dips the torch down into the oil and in an instant, a ring of fire around the base of the pile of snow appears. The flames are high and everyone stands back.
"I hope you die!" yells one man.
"Burn in hell!" says another as a man throws my shovel into the air. It lands upright in the pile of snow beneath me. The flames dance higher and higher and soon the plastic handle at the end of the shovel begins to melt.
"Lets go people. All aboard now. Time to get you all home" says the bus driver. The mob make their way back to the bus which is sitting on the road. There is no more snow around it. It is all in the pile beneath me holding me up. But soon, it will melt and the rope around my neck will become unbearable. How did I get myself into this I thought to myself. It must be one in the morning right now and cold outside. Yet I am only half cold. My legs freeze in the snow I stand while the heat from the flames in the moat of oil around me burn furiously melting the snow at the same time. The oil pops as the melted snow mix with the burning oil boiling, evaporating into the air.
A voice cries out "Die you bastard!" fading as the roar of the engine takes over and the bus begins to speed away with all the people inside.
It begins to snow again. One by one I watch the flakes fall down and melt in front of my eyes. Each one is different. I can see it. The light from the lamp post turns off as the flames continue and the snow beneath me melts away quietly.