6 A.M to NYC

Chapter 1

Jake’s run was the 6 am from Washington, DC, to New York City and the 1 pm return trip to DC. This had been his schedule ever since he gained enough seniority to hold the bid for the last five years. Seniority did have its privileges. Jake was an early bird. Waking up at four in the morning, leaving his house a little after five for the half-hour commute from Annapolis to the bus yard in Tuxedo, MD, was Jake’s idea of the perfect schedule. The early departure time let him avoid the rush hour traffic coming into DC. Jake and his passengers were leaving the U.S Capitol while commuters were on the way into town to begin their day. A little over four hours later, including stops in Baltimore, MD, and Wilmington, DE, Jake would be driving through the Lincoln Tunnel, unaffected by any lingering rush-hour congestion clogging the city streets. Jake’s trip back to DC was the same route minus the Wilmington stop. The two-hour-layover in New York gave him time for lunch and a short nap.

Some of the traveling public worked similar schedules as Jake, and they were his regulars. He got used to seeing the same passengers, sometimes once a week, sometimes several times a week. It was a parallel routine for many of his afternoon passengers as well. At 12:50, Jake would collect their tickets, turn them over to Port Authority dispatchers, and be driving out of the building at 1 PM. The goal was to be clear of the New Jersey Turnpike and over the Delaware Memorial Bridge no later than 2:45. Strict adherence to this timetable allowed enough time to be back at the DC terminal by a little after 5 PM. This was his structured life. A rotating four days on, two days off. It all worked, unlike his previous life.

Jake figured he must have watched too many TV cop shows when he was a kid. FBI, Hawaii Five-0, The Blacklist, and especially NCIS and all its spin-offs led him down what he imagined would be an excitement-filled path of the military police. Shortly after graduating from high school, he joined the US Air Force and volunteered for the Security Forces. Once he completed basic training and cop school, Jake couldn’t wait to launch into his career investigating crimes and arresting drug dealers and murderers. His reality was so much different than the TV shows he used to watch. Jake’s next four years were spent checking ID’s at a base sentry gate, or walking in circles around parked aircraft. The closest he ever came to solving any crimes was breaking up the occasional fight at the NCO or Officers Club on a Friday night. When his four years were up, he was done.

Jake spent the next five years trying his hand at various jobs, none of them very satisfying. He happened to be sitting at a table by the window in a local deli with some friends, everyone complaining about their boring jobs, when a charter bus drove by. It wasn’t the first bus he had ever seen, but it was the first bus he ever took the time to look at. Six months later, he had obtained his commercial driver’s license with passenger endorsement and landed a job with a regional bus company. That was ten years ago.

Thick dark grey clouds blocked the normally brilliant DC sunrise. Jake pulled his bus up to the gate, looked up, and thought, Guess it’s going to be one of those days, as he stepped onto the platform. People were already lined up, waiting to board. He took each passenger's ticket just before they stepped in, acknowledging the riders he recognized with a smile and a head nod, saying, “Welcome aboard,” to the new passengers.

Two people joined the end of the line moments before Jake was about to close the door and get underway. The twenty-something-year-old white man was wearing a wrinkled shirt and pants, scuffed sneakers. He hadn’t shaved in three or four days and looked as though he was recovering from a really bad hangover. His female travelling companion looked to be between eleven and thirteen. Her clothes were stained and frayed. She kept her bright blue eyes pointed to the ground except for the briefest of moments when she gave Jake a pleading glance, then looked away and climbed the stairs into the bus. Her traveling companion followed closely behind her.

With the last passenger on board and the tickets turned in, Jake only had one more duty to perform before departing: the safety speech. He stood by the driver's area, faced the passengers, and spoke into the microphone.

“Welcome to the 6 AM to Baltimore, Wilmington, and New York City. If all goes well, we should reach our final destination in a little over four hours. Please remain in your seats unless you need to use the restroom, and please use headphones at a low volume so as not to disturb your fellow travelers.”

Jake could have given this speech while sitting in his seat, but he felt it was better to make eye contact with everyone individually. He also wanted to know where the young girl and scruffy guy were sitting. As expected, they were in the very back of the bus. The closest passenger to them was three rows forward.

The rain began as a light drizzle, barely enough to turn on the windshield wipers. By the time they reached Baltimore, the intensity shifted to a steady drumming, and before they reached Wilmington, the sky had unleashed its full fury on anyone unfortunate to be traveling on the road.