Trapped Between the Seconds

By Bineet Dwivedy

The bus cut through the mountain road, its headlights piercing the fading dusk. The passengers—twenty in total—sat scattered across the seats, some half-asleep, others absorbed in their phones. 

At the wheel sat Raymond Ray Carter, a veteran bus driver with twenty years of experience navigating treacherous roads. Beside him, at the front, was Olivia Miles, a sharp-eyed journalist traveling alone, drawn to peculiar stories like a moth to flame. 

At the back sat Daniel Grayson, a former cop with a restless gaze, and Eleanor Elle Hayes, a quiet but perceptive woman clutching a worn notebook. Near the center, Travis Hargrove, a businessman impatient to reach his destination, exchanged curt glances with Maya Leung, a college student with a jittery energy. 

And then, of course, there was the child. Sophie, no more than six years old, clutching her stuffed rabbit, seated beside her mother, Angela Rivera. 

The tunnel loomed ahead. Ray barely glanced at it before easing the bus inside.

At first, nothing seemed wrong.

But as time stretched unnaturally, the passengers stirred.

“Shouldn’t we be out by now?” Olivia asked, breaking the silence.

Ray checked the dashboard. The odometer kept ticking, yet the tunnel stretched endlessly. Unease thickened in the air.

Then, Maya screamed.

Everyone turned to see her pointing at her phone screen.

"No signal," she whispered. "Not even the clock—it's frozen. Look!" 

Elle pulled out her phone. The clock displayed 11:46 PM. The same time it had shown when they entered.

Reality had ceased to move.

Then came the whisper.

A sound—soft, like breath slipping between stone.

Ray slammed the brakes.

“We’re getting off,” Daniel ordered.

The passengers stepped into the tunnel. It stretched infinitely in both directions, jagged rock forming unnatural patterns on the walls.

They started walking.

Minutes stretched into hours.

Then—it happened.

They saw the bus again.

Only this time, it was different.

Dust-caked. Rust-eaten. Its windows shattered. 

“How… how is it old?” Travis murmured. “We left it just hours ago…”

Elle approached hesitantly, fingers brushing the rusted frame. It crumbled at her touch.

That’s when the engine roared to life.

But no one was inside.

A loud rumble shook the tunnel, the headlights blinking.

Then—the whispers turned into voices.

“Leave… Leave… Leave…”

The passengers stumbled backward. Sophie clutched her mother as the voices swirled, growing louder.

Daniel grabbed Ray’s arm. “We need to go. Now.”

But the tunnel was changing.

The walls seemed closer—throbbing, alive. The bus shuddered violently.

Then they saw the shadows.

Figures—distorted, flickering, standing at the edge of the tunnel.

Olivia grabbed Elle’s hand. “Are you seeing—?”

The figures moved, gliding toward them.

That was when Sophie murmured something that turned their blood to ice.

“Mommy,” she whispered, pointing, “they look like us.”

Everyone turned.

The figures—identical versions of themselves—were watching.

Sophie pointed again. “That one is you,” she told Olivia.

And indeed—one of the shadowy figures had Olivia’s sharp features.

One looked like Ray.

Another, Maya.

Then, with terrifying synchronicity, the figures smiled.

“You are already home,” they whispered.

And then—the tunnel collapsed.

By Bineet Dwivedy