Light stabs at my eyes. Sharp. Relentless. Like it's punishing me for waking up.

  I wince. Blink. Everything is blurry.

  The world tilts, shifting between too bright and too dark, shapes swimming in and out of focus. My head pounds, a slow, pulsing ache, like my skull’s been put through a meat grinder.

  But… something else lingers. A sound.

  Not the groan of twisted metal. Not the crackle of flames. Not sirens screaming in the distance, rushing to pull bodies from wreckage. Not what I expect.

  No—this is different. Soft. Low. Whispering.

  Right at the edge of my hearing. Just there—

  Then gone.

  Like it was never there at all.

  I blink again. The world sharpens just enough to make out the wreckage.

  I try to lift my head—bad idea. Pain flares, shooting down my spine. I drop back down, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.

  Cracked. Barely holding together.

  Sunlight filters through. Dust floats in the air, slow and lazy, like it didn’t just survive a catastrophe.

  The silence… too much silence. No screams. No crying. No groaning metal or hissing gas.

  Just a faint breeze whispering through shattered glass. And birds. Distant, chirping, happy birds.

  Something about that feels wrong.

  Where the hell am I?

  I try to shift. Can’t.

  Something heavy pins me down.

  I grit my teeth, force my neck to move—just enough to see her. A woman. Black hair. Arms locked around me tight. Like I’m some kind of life raft in the middle of a shipwreck.

  She’s smaller than me, but somehow weighs a ton. Dead weight. Breathing, but out cold.

  I swallow. My throat feels like sandpaper.

  “Hey.” My voice comes out hoarse. Weak. Useless.

  She doesn’t stir.

  I grit my teeth, painfully work a hand free, and nudge her.

  Nothing.

  So I shove her. Harder.

  This time, she moves.

  She stirs. Mumbles something. Then her eyes snap open.

  We lock eyes. Purple orbs stare me down.

  For a second, nothing happens. Then I groan, voice dry as hell. “Look, lady, I appreciate a good cuddle, but maybe buy me dinner first.”

  Instant regret. Talking makes my skull feel like it’s cracking open.

  She doesn’t react. Or she does and just doesn’t give a damn. She peels herself off me, slow, stiff. Grimaces like her whole body aches.

  Then—she looks out the window. And freezes.

  Eyes wide. Breath caught. Her head jerks left, right, left again—like the world stopped making sense and she’s trying to find the part where it does.

  Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. She looks at me. Back outside. Then me again.

  Nothing comes out.

  Then, finally, she croaks—“Where… are we?”

  A wave of murmurs and shouts rises in the bus as the others come to. Groggy. Confused.

  They glance around, eyes wide, breaths uneven.

  Same question, bouncing from mouth to mouth—

  Where are we?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Heaven?

  Doubt it. My head hurts too much for that.

  I try to crane my neck, get a glimpse outside—but the weight on me makes it impossible.

  Enough of this.

  I grit my teeth, summon what little strength I have left, and slide my arms down the woman’s waist. Grip her tight. Then, with a sharp pull, I drag myself upright. She lets out a startled gasp, hands clutching at my arms, but I don’t let her tip over.

  Not that I’m feeling particularly chivalrous. I just need a damn look outside.

  And when I finally see it—

  My stomach drops.

  My brain stalls.

  And the words slip out before I even think.

  “What. The. Fuck.”

  I blink. Shake my head. But the view doesn’t change.

  No road. No city. No neon glow or honking cars.

  Just a sheer drop.

  The bus—or what’s left of it—teeters at the cliff’s edge. The windshield’s gone. Glass and twisted metal litter the floor. It looks like a giant took a bite out of the front half.

  I lean forward. Peer out. My stomach knots.

  Where pavement and traffic should be, there’s only vast, untouched wilderness. A valley sprawls below, too perfect, too still. The trees look like ink splatters. Rivers shimmer like melted silver. Mountains loom in the distance—jagged, endless, alien.

  Nothing familiar. No landmarks. No way home.

  One second, the city. Night. Noise. Life.

  Now—this.

  Day. Silence. Nowhere.

  I swallow hard.

  “…Oh, I’m so fucked.”

  A cold sweat trickles down my spine.

  Get off the bus.

  Now.

  My hands tremble. My whole body shakes. Terror sinks in. The kind that grips your chest and won’t let go. The kind that tells you—move, or die.

  I turn to the woman, ready to shove her off—

  But I stop. Too much force, and the whole damn bus might tip.

  I lean in close, voice tight. “Get off me. Quickly. But carefully.”

  She does. Slowly. Carefully.

  A minute, and she slides off. I breathe.

  I swing my legs off the seat. They’re numb. Aching.

  I push myself up. Wobble. Grip the grab bar tight.

  The bus groans under the shift in weight. Metal creaks. My nerves twitch.

  One wrong move, and this whole thing goes over.

  People start shifting, watching me. Some rise. Bad idea.

  I wave a hand. “Stay calm. Sit tight. Let me get the door first.” I nod toward the exit, jammed shut across from me.

  Some listen. Some don’t. Of course. Because why make things easy? I shake my head, mutter a curse, and move.

  The doors are busted. Bent from the impact. Perfect.

  I grab the handle and pull. Hard. The metal groans. The bus shifts—just a little, but enough to send my heart into overdrive. Are the tires still on the ground? Are we still on solid earth, or just pretending?

  The door creaks, gives an inch. Slow. Reluctant.

  Then—

  QUACK. QUACK. QUACK.

  Loud. Fast. Flapping wings right behind me. I freeze.

  My pulse spikes. The bus wobbles. Just for a second, but that’s a second too long.

  I grit my teeth, gripping the frame like it might save me.

  Who the fuck travels with a duck? I want to scream. Instead, I swallow it down and focus.

  I yank the handle. Nothing.

  Meanwhile, more people start moving. Coming my way. Tipping the goddamn balance.

  No. No. Fuck this.

  I grit my teeth and pull. Hard. Harder. My muscles scream.

  Then—CRUNCH.

  The door rips open with a metallic shriek. The bus lurches.

  I don’t wait. I launch myself through the gap, hit the ground, and roll. Solid earth. Finally.

  I suck in a breath I didn’t even know I was holding, my hands digging into dirt. Actual dirt. Trees stand tall around me, still, unmoving. No death plunge for me today.

  I turn back to the bus—and every ounce of relief dies a horrible death.

  What the—

  The front tires aren’t touching the ground. At all. Just hanging there over empty space.

  The cliff’s edge beneath them? Cracking. Thin fractures snake out like spiderwebs, spreading. Deepening.

  Oh, hell no.

  I lunge forward, poke my head inside. “Okay, people, out! Now!” My voice booms, fueled by sheer panic.

  They move. Thank God, they move.

  One by one, they stumble out. Some limp. Some crawl. Some clutch each other like they just remembered mortality’s a thing. Even the guy with a duck. And a cat. Because of course.

  I guide them away, my ears tuned to the slow, agonizing groan of metal giving up on life. Just hurry up. Hurry the fuck up.

  The black-haired woman finally emerges. Last one out. What the hell took her so long?

  Then I see it.

  The old granny, arm slung over her shoulder. Barely walking. And behind them? The puppy.

  Except the little thing? Decides to jump first.

  CRACK.

  The ground gives.

  The bus tilts. Lurches.

  Fuck.

  I lunge forward. Grab both of them by the arms and yank.

  The old lady makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a curse. Sorry, granny, your bones will live. The bus won’t.

  They tumble down with me, just as the earth crumbles behind them.

  A deafening roar.

  The bus drops.

  Metal shrieks as it hurtles down the cliffside, smashing against jagged rocks, splitting apart in a horrific symphony of destruction.

  We hit the ground in a heap, gravel and dust flying everywhere. I roll onto my back, panting.

  For a second—silence.

  Then the granny groans, “Oh, bugger off.”

  I blink. “You’re welcome.”

  She smacks my shoulder. Hard for someone who was just nearly bus food.

  The woman beside me coughs, her voice hoarse. “That… could’ve gone worse.”

  I stare at her. Then gesture toward the massive, flaming wreckage at the bottom of the cliff.

  “Really? You sure about that?”

  She doesn’t respond. Exactly.

  I let them be. No point in arguing.

  Pushing myself up, I take a step back, trying to shake off the tremors still buzzing through my limbs. Adrenaline’s a hell of a drug.

  Then I turn to the rest of the group.

  A dozen or so survivors. Breathless. Staggering. Covered in dust and bruises. Some look ready to scream. Some look like they’ve already checked out.

  I glance around. And that’s when it really hits.

  No roads. No city skyline. No phone towers blinking in the distance. No goddamn sign of human life anywhere. Just trees. And hills. And waterfalls, glistening under a sun that suddenly feels way too bright.

  This isn’t right. This isn’t even possible.

  I exhale through my nose. Keep it together.

  I clear my throat. “Okay,” I say, turning to the group. “Does anyone have even the slightest fucking idea where we are?”

  Before anyone can answer—

  A blue glow flickers in front of me.

  I jolt back, hands up on reflex. The hell?

  A box. Floating. Right in front of my face. Shimmering letters scroll across it.

  [Welcome to the land of Vivian, Participant.]

  I stare.

  I blink.

  I stare some more.

  Then: “Who the fuck is Vivian, and why am I in her land?”