My name is Ling Mo. I'm a new driver for the bus company. On my first day, they assigned me to the Route 13 night shift.
Eight drivers have taken this route, and not one of them lasted a full month.
The veteran driver gave me six rules.
Never refuse to let someone who waves you down board. Never ask passengers how they died. Stop at every stop. The living must not get off before the last stop. You must return before three in the morning. And the driver must never leave the seat for more than three minutes.
I asked, “What if I can't make it back?”
The veteran driver said, “The last driver who didn't make it back is my co-driver. Her name is Ling Xiao. She's my little sister.”
Only after I started driving this bus did I realize:
Half the passengers who board at midnight aren't alive. The fare box holds no coins, only bloody fingernails, yellowed photographs, and notes begging for help. And there's a stop blacked out on the route map called Broken Bridge.
That's where my sister disappeared.
Now the light at Broken Bridge has come on again.
