The doors of the night bus pulled shut with a wheeze, sending a puff of warm air out into the chill London night. Five rowdy lads tumbled on, stamping their muddy trainers over every bit of the bus they couldsteps, rails, even the unlucky feet of other passengers.
No one among the handful of solo late-night travellers, herded together by the only running bus, dared challenge the boisterous energy of the group. Fired up by drink, they were loudly bragging about their sexual exploits, each one trying to out-shout the others about who had done what, where, and with whom, all vying for attention. Every punchline was met with raucous laughter and a slug of cheap lager, their bottles clinking and banging in a makeshift celebration at the back of the bus.
The old engine sputtered to life, the doors hissed, and the bus trundled away from the stop, swaying gently like a boat leaving port. In the dim light, apart from the newcomers, there were maybe ten peopleif you counted the conductor. She stood up and headed for the group, gripping her roll of tickets.
“Fares, lads,” she said tiredly, pushing up glasses that looked older than any of the boys.
“Oyster card,” belched one.
“Me too,” said another.
“Yeah, same here!”
The youngest couldn’t have been eighteenpale fuzz on his lip, jittery moves, eyes darting around. But with his mates, he put on a confident front, shouting louder than the rest.
“Lets see them, then,” the woman replied, dry as ever, not remotely impressed.
You show yours first, then!” challenged the biggest, spitting lager froth.
“I’m the conductor,” she answered, unflinching.
“And Im an electrician! Does that mean I get free leccy?” Another jeered, his beer now leaking down his coat, stinking up the place.
Either you pay, or you get off, she said, voice flat as a pancake.
With perfect timing, the bus stopped. The rest of the passengers quickly got off, not waiting around for drama.
We told you, weve got passes, crowed the youngest, puffing up his chest.
“Take us back to the depot, Alan!” the conductor called to the driver.
Yeah, Alan, take us to the depot! the lads mocked, wiping fake tears.
The doors slammed, the bus rumbled, and did a wide, unlikely U-turn. Their laughter died quickly, and one of the slightly more sober ones finally piped up,
Hang on a minutehow did a London bus do a U-turn on the road when its on the wires? Eyes got a bit wide, but the others shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it.
The bus picked up pace, humming louder, and, weirdly, overtook cars. The lights inside flickered, some going out altogether. Only streetlamps and neon shopfronts lit the bus now, their glow strobing across the seats. The conductor sat stone-faced, staring ahead. No more stops.
“Oi! Driver! Where you taking us?” one of the five finally shouted.
No answer.
“Oi! Stop the bus! Let us off!” their voices suddenly shaky, panic creeping in.
The conductor didn’t move an inch.
Soon, the city slipped away behind them, and they hurtled down a pitch-black country lane. The only light came from the drivers cab, little LEDs blinking in the gloom. The boys pulled out their phones, but there was no signaljust endless spinning circles as pages struggled to refresh.
When the bus turned into a field, one of the more mouthy ones leapt up, barking threats at the conductor.
Do you know who I work for?! If Im not in the office tomorrow, youll never see your pension, love!
At that, the headlights blinked off.
Please, just let us out, I need to be up for my A-levels revision, whined the youngest, voice cracking with fear.
The bus loaded on, engine roaring against the night. Stone-cold sober now, the lads clung to each other, shaky hands and chattering teeth, remembering every hostage-taker film theyd ever watched. They tried smashing the window with empty bottles, clawed at the doors, but it was useless.
Eventually, the bribes came out.
“Here, take the cashkeep the change! Just get us home! one pleaded, waving tenners and twenties.
The conductor still didnt budge. Their begging turned to apologies, then to actual tears, filling the bus with desperate promises and shivering.
At last, they pulled up beside an enormous lake, water gleaming silver in the moonlight.
Where are we? they whispered.
Were getting dumped in the lake, sobbed the youngest.
Can you drive a bus, Steve? Maybe we can jump them! one murmured, but Steve just shook his head, hopeless.
The front door creaked open and the conductor stepped out, her silhouette flickering in the drivers bit of light. The boys spotted something long and heavy in her hand.
Thats it shes gonna shoot us dump us in the lake the electrician sniffled, rubbing his red eyes, and for once, no one cracked a joke.
Suddenly, the inside lights snapped back on, and the conductor stomped back in, holding a mop and a bucket.
“Once you’ve scrubbed the walls, I’ll give you rags for the seats and floors. Then you lot can go home. Any questions?”
The boys shook their heads in perfect sync.
The night stretched on. Two fetched water, one changed cloths, another dumped out buckets into a mysterious giant tank that definitely hadnt just appeared. It seemed the night-bus had been here more than once.
They finished at sunrise. The bus shone like it had just rolled out of the depotwindows sparkling. The boys were silent, fully sobered, and oddly united by their ordeal. The conductor punched their tickets and off they went, dropped off quietly at stops across London. With a quick swing, the night bus merged back onto its familiar route, ready to meet the dawnand its next round of passengers.
