He was about to settle back into his work when, all of a sudden, a blurred shadow moved quickly past his window. His gaze snapped to it, and through the mist of rain, he made out two vague shapes in the midst of the downpour. It was the young couple from the bar, the boy holding his jacket high over the girl’s shoulders, shielding her from the storm. She tucked herself under it, laughing, her hair drenched and sticking to her face. He could see her hand gripping his arm tightly as they ran toward the bus.

  But the driver was nowhere to be seen. The parking lot, empty of anything else, remained still, consumed by the growing darkness outside. The road ahead seemed deserted, disappearing into the thick shadows, and beyond that, the great mountains of Ellis loomed in the distance. Their dark peaks were barely visible against the night sky, except for the occasional flash of lightning that lit up the high mountain tops.

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  Chris watched these fleeting moments from the back of his seat. Having been on the road for as long as he could remember, he knew that in the dark, things always seemed farther than they really were. Now, with a sudden light coming from the bar, he turned to look closely at the couple’s empty seats. Next to them, the man in the black coat was still there, flipping through another page of his magazine. His drink had been replaced with a new glass, now filled to the top—a token of special courtesy from Daisy herself.

  She was busy fiddling with the remote behind the bar, changing the channels on a small TV set above the counter. The static images flickered repeatedly before she landed on a news report. The screen showed flashing lights, police cars, and an ambulance. “A major accident,” the anchor’s voice said, “multiple injuries reported, the cause still under investigation.”

  He heard a voice from behind him, low and familiar. “Every year, same thing,” it said.