The Fourth Age

never comes to pass, except as the Bus Driver’s words echoing forever in our minds. “You louts!” He sings in His obscene voice. “Live together in that foul puddle until you bloat white!” He rises from his seat and bounds down the aisle, slamming shut the emergency exit. The blue boy cowers before Him. “You believe it’s so simple?” The blue boy shakes his head. The Bus Driver cuffs him, and he splinters. We make no attempt to gather the pieces. “You think because you no longer have hands that you’ve lost the use of weapons?” We point out that the blue boy had hands, at least until he shattered. But He continues hurling his words at us. “Sons and daughters of blood do not exchange their angry spirit so easily.” His face reddens until it sparks to flame. “With the force of roiling clouds your right weapon drives through you, rattling upon the earth like hail.” He punches a hole through the roof of the school bus with his fist. Then another. And another. “Here’s your exit,” He shouts. “Take it and diminish over the hollow earth.” He fixes flashing eyes upon us. “Or, remain on the chosen battle-ground and wrestle so fiercely that the bus trembles with your heaving.” The engine of the school bus rumbles like thunder. It’s then we realize that the bus is still moving. Jimmy asks the Bus Driver who is driving. The Bus Driver’s eyes dim to crepuscular holes. We’re sure He’ll strike Jimmy dead and toss his lifeless body along the roadside. Instead, He turns to Jimmy, kneels before him and takes his hand. “My son,” He says. “When I storm through the heavens, even the shadows flee. But here, there is only the brutal precision of our actions. For what other reason do you think I rage?” The engine bellows. The Bus Driver stands and returns to his seat. The school bus drives on.