As she stared at him, the bus slowed and veered right. King City at last. She had only a vague plan for when she arrived. She would first try to find their Secret Police department, wherever it was hidden. Perhaps there was a radio host, some version of a Cecil Palmer for King City, California. She could contact that person and ask for them to put out a call for Josh, the way Cecil generously announced over the radio the location and personal details of Night Vale citizens without even being asked at all.

The bus came to a stop at a traffic light. They were clearly out on the edge of town. There was a used car lot. The bus turned, and her viewing slot showed her an old house that looked similar to Josie’s. Diane leaned into the aisle and looked out the front of the bus, at a familiar low skyline: the library, the Rec Center, the Pinkberry, the distant Brown Stone Spire.

She walked to the front of the bus and leaned over the white line, careful to keep her feet behind it.

“Is this Night Vale?” Diane asked.

“It is,” said the driver. Her name tag said MAB.

“But this was the King City bus.”

“Right.” Mab’s sunglasses hid any feelings she might be having about the questions.

“But we never stopped or turned.”

“Not many turns on that road.”

They passed the Antiques Mall. Today the antiques in the window were playful, jumping over each other and wrestling.

Diane stumbled over the white line as the bus turned onto Somerset.

“Feet behind the line please.”

She obeyed.

“I don’t understand. Why did we never stop in King City?”

Mab eased the bus to a stop at the downtown bus/train/paddleboat terminal. She turned and pulled off her sunglasses. Her feelings about Diane’s questions still weren’t clear because she had no eyes.

“My bus started in King City. Why would I stop in King City?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You got on the bus in King City. It is a nonstop bus from King City to Night Vale. No turns, like you said.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

Diane turned toward the other passengers, hoping someone would join her confusion or plead her case. The bus had started in Night Vale. It had, right? But all of the seats were empty. No one on board but her and the driver. Not even the driver now. Mab was standing outside, sunglasses back on, smoking a clove cigarette.

Diane walked back to her seat and grabbed her suitcase. Before leaving, she knelt down and put her hand to the seat directly across the aisle from hers, where the man had been. It was cold.

She got off the bus.