Flux by Mark R. Faulkner Read Free Book Online Page B

took a seat a few rows back from the front, glad that the driver didn’t start to move until sure Iain was seated.
    At last, Iain was on his way home and he looked at the world as it sped past the window in a whole new light. He’d been close to never seeing the busy streets, the factory chimneys or people scurrying about their business ever again. He’d never felt so happy to set eyes upon the same drab, grey mass of concrete he’d severely disliked ever since his early youth; the streets he’d always wanted to escape so much.
    Once or twice along the journey he caught fleeting glances of shadows moving amongst people on the pavements. His mind cast back to lying in the hospital bed and the shadow which had passed across the open door; temporarily forgotten. A shudder ran down his spine and he tried to push the apparitions from his mind
    Iain’s attention was diverted from the supernatural as the bus route took him past his place of work, along the very stretch of road where he’d met with his accident. There was no evidence now of what had happened, any police tape there had been was now long removed, if there had been any in the first place, and nothing marked the spot. It didn’t prevent him from feeling a sudden chill and shiver as he passed the point where he’d lain, on the brink of death on the cool, hard tarmac.
    He couldn’t see through the heavily tinted windows and into the place where he’d worked, but he knew that inside the daily grind continued as usual, people busily punching numbers into screens and keeping the cogs of industry turning. He wondered whether he still had a job or whether he’d quickly been replaced. He doubted his seat would have been kept empty for him, hopefully it was a temp keeping it warm. Outside, somebody whom Iain didn’t recognise stood having a cigarette, maybe his replacement? Why did Iain care anyway? It was a vocation he hated; maybe his accident had done him a favour, giving him no option but to move onto pastures new?
    Trying hard not to worry about how to pay the never-ending bills, his journey soon reached its climax as the bus approached the end of Iain’s street. With a sigh of relief he pushed the little bell to signal to the driver that he wanted to alight and started to stand. The driver tapped the brakes a little too hard for Iain’s still unsteady legs, and while fortunately clinging to the metal pole which went from the top of the seat to the ceiling, Iain pivoted around it and onto the seat in front with a gasp of pain and surprise. The woman who was sitting there didn’t appear to be too happy about being sat on and let out a little squeal herself as he landed in her lap. She was instantly pushing at him to get off.
    Struggling to get back up and muttering apologies, Iain finally made it to the front of the bus and out onto the pavement, thanking the driver as he did. Pausing for a deep breath of free air before doing so, he set off down the street towards the front door of the Victorian house which contained his flat.
    Arriving at the door with its red peeling paint, Iain faced his first challenge in the form of three stone steps. Using his crutches with great ability, he managed these without too much of an issue. Fumbling in his pocket to retrieve the keys he pulled them out and they dropped to the floor, tumbling down onto the steps, just one from the top.
    “Shit!” Iain mumbled to himself, he now had to try and pick them up, an easy task for an able bodied person. After a couple of attempts involving much huffing and puffing, Iain almost lost his balance, just saving himself from a fall by grabbing hold of the short iron railings next to the door. A piece of ancient paint and rust flaked off, digging into his hand but fortunately not breaking the skin. Rather than risking a fall, Iain decided that the best and safest course of action was to lower himself, still holding tightly to the railings, onto his bottom and retrieve the dropped keys from