The Number 6 - Rewrite

 

 

We all know the saying, you wait ages for a bus, and then three show up at once. Well how many of you have boarded the third in line. I bet not many, perhaps a handful. Well little do you know if you did, well, you never know where it may end up taking you.

 

 

Alfie Matthews stood at the back of the mass that had gathered, waiting for the bus. Glancing to his watch he was not surprised the stop was so busy, it had been fifteen minutes and still no bus had shown.  The delay amplified the swirling in Alfie’s stomach, making him question if he was doing the right thing. Feeling a tightness around his neck, he loosened his school tie, undoing his top button. It was a hot summer´s day, the type that left the streets of London stifling. It was moments like this that Alfie hated the school rule that dictated all uniform must be worn, both too and from school. Unsure how this ridiculous rule was policed, Alfie never had the confidence to break it. Instead, he just fiddled with the loosening silk around his neck, trying to focus on anything.

 

There was a noticeable shift in the crowd that could only mean one thing. Alfie looked down the street. Several cars away the big red double decker could be seen, sticking above the rest of the traffic, the large number and text screaming out in yellow against the black backdrop of the sign. 

 

‘Aldwych 6’

 

As the bus approached the stop there was a noticeable grumble amongst the crowd. Before it even stopped it was clear to Alfie the bus was ´full and standing´ as the announcements declared. But then, as the bus came to a stop, a second pulled up behind. The group splintered, some trying to squeeze on the first with others, taking the chance and leaving the queue, they headed to the other, glancing at the sign and hurriedly jumping onto the second number six. By the time Alfie had realised, both the first and second were completely full, both driver´s shaking their heads, acknowledging the fact there was no way in hell he was getting on either bus. 

 

Alfie stepped back, the two buses exiting the stop, leaving Alfie, now alone, to sit on the thin strip of metal that could barely be called a bench. But Alfie only had the chance to sit for a moment, from behind the other two buses, a third approached. The front, despite all odds, indeed read the same number: 6. However, this time due to what Alfie assumed must be a fault with the display, the six was flashing on and off. 

 

Alfie did not waste any time, as soon as the bus doors opened, he hurried up the small step and into the bus. In his haste, Alfie thought he had seen a fine white smoke eminating from the red, metal shell of the bus. Eager to get away he chose to ignore the unusual site. 

 

 Once aboard the bus, Alfie noticed that the entire bottom deck was empty, there was not one soul. Despite the plethora of seats, he headed up the narrow staircase that led to the second deck, stumbling for a second as the bus pulled out into the traffic, knocking him off balance on the steep staircase. At the top of the stairs, Alfie turned to see the upper deck was almost as deserted as below. There was just one, elderly man sat sitting the third row from the back on the right side. He wore a light grey three piece suit and matching tie. His white hair was neatly parted to one side and a trimmed moustache adorned his upper lip. He stopped glancing out of the window and looked to Alfie, a gentle smile stretching his wrinkled cheeks. Alfie walked toward the back, choosing a seat  to sit two seats behind the figure and on the opposite side. Once Alfie had walked past, the old man returned his attention out of the window, his head silhouetted against the bright signs of the numerous takeaways and small grocery stores of Edgeware Road as they slowly passed by. 

 

After a few moments, the only sound to be heard on the bus was its engine; the bus turned the corner and came to a stop at Marble Arch Station. Ahead of them, through the narrow window, Alfie could still make out the other number six in front, masses evacuating onto the pavement that stretched down Oxford Street, and into the distance. The crowds filled the path as they meandered in and out of the various shops. A couple of people boarded the bus in front and only a small group began their way to the third bus, a group clad in what looked to be black hooded robes. 

 

The bus swiftly departed, and Alfie looked to the stairs, watching to see if the strange group would come up to the second deck. As he was looking to the stairs, he noticed the bus taking a right turn, not following the other number six. Instead it turned earlier, but not onto the road, into the park and was heading straight for the white stone structure that was Marble Arch. Alfie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing to the elderly figure he hoped to see if he too had noticed the unusual route. The old man, his back to Alfie, still glanced out of the window, with his shoulders down he seemed as relaxed as before. 

 

The bus was getting closer to Marble Arch and it showed no sign of slowing. Now metres away from the heavy metal gates that stood, proudly blocking the arch, the bus seemed to accelerate. Alfie held tightly to the metal bar on the back of the seat in front, his hand slipping with sweat as he prepared for the impact. He closed his eyes. 

 

After a few moments, when Alfie was sure the bus should have collided with the gates, he slowly opened his eyes once more. The arch was nowhere to be seen; the gates gone. Instead the narrow window at the front looked out over a narrow black lane, with old, warped, dark stone buildings on either side. The black stone was lit by a dull orange glow, that seemed to emanate from the rusted sky itself.   

 

“Excuse me,” Alfie stood walking toward the elderly figure, “excuse me, I´m sorry but… Do you know where we are?”

 

The elderly man turned his head, the same smile as before on his face.

 

“What´s that my boy?” he asked.

 

“The bus, do you know what the next stop is?” Alfie continued.

 

“I´d say the next stop should be The Dead Man´s Arms.” The old man paused,  Alfie wondered if his flinch at the name had been that visible. “It´s a pub.”

 

Alfie had not noticed the small group of hooded figures had come up the stairs and were walking down the aisle, toward the back, toward Alfie. 

 

 One voice spoke from beneath the hood, only it did not use actual words.  Alfie just stared, all he had heard was a series of low grunts and clicks. Alfie looked up, the orange glow illuminating a terrible face beneath the hood, a face with no nose and black voids where the eyes should have been. He wanted to scream, but he found he could create no noise, his throat was silent. Instead, he lowered himself into the empty seat next to the old man, allowing the cloaked group to pass and sit on the back row. 

 

Alfie stuttered, still trying to form words. His stomach felt empty, not hungry, but void of anything. 

 

“I´m guessing this is your first time on this bus?” the old man asked the boy, his smile unseen. Alfie stared directly ahead, his eyes wide trying to understand what he had just seen. “Well don´t worry, nothing´ll harm you. Nothing can for the matter, not on the bus,” the old man continued. “There are rules you see.”

 

“Rules?” Alfie heard the question vacantly escape his lips before he had realised. 

 

“Yes, when travelling between worlds,” said the old man.

 

“Between worlds?” Alfie asked, turning to look at the group of cloaked figures who were now clicking and grunting to one another.

 

“Ya know, heaven… hell… and of course the world of the living.” The old man spoke with a neutral tone that did not seem to match the gravity of his words.

 

Alfie now flicked his head around, looking to the old figure.

 

“Heaven and hell?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” the old man spoke as he returned the boys stare, this time he was the one looking uncertain, “you do know this bus is on its way to hell?”  

 

“How can we be going to hell? Why would anyone want to get a bus to hell?” Alfie asked, his voice quick.

 

“People have their reasons; some are just heading home.” The old man flicked his head toward the group sat at the back. 

 

“What are your reasons?” Alfie asked after a pause.

 

“I´m going to see my wife,” replied the old man.

 

“Your wife?” asked Alfie. “She´s in hell?”

 

The old man just smiled once more and nodded his head. For a moment there was silence between the two, a silence only broken by the noises coming from the group on the back seat. Alfie could not be sure, but he thought their wheezing was laughter.

 

“Was she a bad person?” Alfie finally asked.

 

“Not at all,” the old man said, “our Clara was the nicest, kindest lady you could meet.”

 

“Then why is she in hell?” asked Alfie.

 

“You never tried her cooking…” the man smiled down at the boy, “if ever there was a sin…”

 

The old man continued to smile, as he raised his eyebrows. Despite the situation Alfie found a smile spreading across his own lips.

 

“So, is it common for people to travel between the normal world and hell?” asked Alfie.

 

“I wouldn´t say so,” replied the man, “I doubt many people know it´s possible.”

 

“Then how did you know?”

 

“Well I am not exactly travelling from the world of the living…” the old man started, “I was… just passing through.”

 

“Then that would mean,” Alfie began to realise. “You are travelling from heaven? Then you’re…”

 

“Dead?” the old man interrupted. “I´m afraid so, have been for over fifty years.”

 

The bus came to a stop. Alfie moved to the seat behind and pressed his face to the window, looking out. On the other side of the road stood an old, wooden hut, with a strange pointed turret. Hanging above the door was a sign with a name and two severed arms.

 

‘The Dead Man´s Arms’

 

After a moment, another figure staggered up the stairs. He wore a long-beaten trench coat, closed shut and a trilby hat. To Alfie he looked from another time. Alfie immediately returned to the seat next to the old man. The figure was making  his way down the aisle, in the best fashion he could. As Alfie watched, he stumbled grasping on to each seat as he steadied his unsure legs. Now closer, his yellowing eyes, set in green skin, screamed out to Alfie, and a large horrible grin spread on his lips, revealing nothing but black gums. Alfie shifted uneasily once more in his seat. 

 

“It’s ok,” the old man´s voice startled him. “Remember, whilst you are on this bus nothing can harm you.”

 

“Is heaven as beautiful as they say?” Alfie asked, in hope that the thought of anything beautiful would erase the image of the ghostly demon that now sat a few seats behind.

 

“I´d say more so,” the old man started. “There is no way to describe it… not that would do it justice.” He paused. “That´s why most people don´t leave. They look at the beauty around them, the never-ending joy that fills their hearts, and they forget… forget about those that are not with them.”

 

“But not you?” Alfie interjected. “You choose to leave and go to what must be the opposite of places… for your wife.”

 

“Well how would I know if a never-ending joy filled my heart, when my heart is somewhere else…” The old man stopped for a moment, looking out of the window at the black buildings that hurtled past, “…with someone else.”

 

There was then another silence, a silence this time even the wheezing laughter from the demons on the back row could not spoil. It was a silence that was meant to be. After a while it was eventually broken, only by the old man.

 

“So…” he said, “what made you get on this bus today?”

 

It was now Alfie´s turn to remain silent, looking down at his feet. The old man did not press, but Alfie could feel his eyes on him, watching him and waiting for when he was ready to speak. 

 

“My mum is sick,” he said, still looking to the floor.

 

“I´m sorry,” was all the old man offered.

 

“I was meant to go see her, that’s why I was at Edgeware Road, for the hospital,” Alfie continued. “Only… I couldn´t go in… I tried, I did, I got to the door and everything but then…” he paused, “I decided to just go home.”

 

“And the other buses were full?” the old man asked, a question, but one both understood needed no answer.

 

“Do you think my mum might…” Alfie stopped, he could feel a tear building behind his eyes, a lump so big in his throat that it felt like he might choke. “Do you think my mum might go to hell?” The tear broke free, falling down his cheek.

 

The old man did not say anything; Alfie looked up to him, drying the tear on the sleeve of his blazer. The old man returned his gaze. Alfie could see in his bright green eyes that he did not know what to say, the look of someone who had just been faced with a complex algebra equation and had no calculator.

 

“I couldn´t say,” the old man finally said. “Based on the boy you seem to be then she must be a good person, raised you right.” He looked away again. “How´s her cooking?” The old man asked, playfully elbowing the boy and smiling with a wink. 

 

“The best!” Alfie said, looking back into the green eyes. 

 

“There you go then; I am sure she will be fine,” the old man said, looking out the window. Alfie was not certain, but he thought he saw the old man dry a tear of his own. “It’s not easy facing death… whether it´s your own, or someone you love. Hell, even a stranger´s death isn´t pretty, not if you see it up close.” He paused again. “But one thing I will say, is having my wife and kid come to see me, before I died… well… that sure made the whole thing that little bit easier.”

 

“But were they not sad?” asked Alfie.

 

“Of course they were sad… I was dying. If they weren´t sad then that would worry me… But there is more to it than just sadness. It´s about saying goodbye, and having no regrets because it´s times like those you… you never get back, no matter how much you might want.”

 

The lights on the bus flickered on and off, jolting Alfie´s attention away from the old man and back into the bus. The bus had stopped, and now lay empty except for the two of them. Alfie had not seen anyone leave. 

 

“Well this is me.” The old man spoke loudly. “The end of the line as they say… or no… that´s trains. Anyways, you stay aboard. The bus will be heading back your way in a few minutes.” 

 

The old man stood, walking to the front of the bus, pausing just before he stepped onto the stairs.

 

“Remember, whilst you are on this bus you´re safe. It will see you right, back to the land of the living.” The old man began down the steps.

 

“Have a nice time with Clara,” Alfie shouted after him.

 

The old man´s head popped back up above the rail, giving a simple nod toward Alfie, he showed his appreciation and then was gone.

 

****

 

The old man had been right, the bus did return by the same route and Alfie was able to get off at Edgeware Road.  Although it did seem to take slightly longer, without the conversation. Alfie had tried his best to not draw any attention to himself, keeping his eyes down, facing away from any of the horrors that were travelling between the worlds. 

 

He now had to face his own horror, stood standing in the lift, he reached out and pressed the button for the third floor. In an instant the lift opened, and passing the nurse’s station he began the walk down the corridor, that seemed longer than ever before. Arriving at the ward he walked through the double doors and approached the bed at the far side, positioned next to the window. As he reached the bed, his voice broke through the surrounding noise, a soft, unsure sound.

 

“Mum.”

 

End