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Have you been keeping up with A Vampire’s Vengeance? If so, then you are aware of the strait-laced nature of Edgar. If so, then be prepared to be taken for a ride, because we begin to see how reckless our dear Edgar can be:

Oh Solomon, what is to become of you? You resist tooth and nail against all the elements of a world which you know nothing about, and think you will prevail against all odds. If you only knew the truth of the forces you believe to be set against you. Enjoy the latest installment of House, wherein Solomon continues being Solomon, and we can only watch and hope something clicks in his mind before it’s too late.

If, that is, it is not too late already …

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In this edition’s guest attraction, we present to you a rather curious tale of a rather curious individual who has some rather curious issues to contend with:

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Welcome to another installment of Bus Driver! In our last installment, violence struck the Trading Outpost, though all in the basement dining area were none the wiser as to what transpired overhead. Their reactions, however, are notable in that each felt some responsibility to the outpost and each other to want to do something about it. They were all, however, already quite drunk. You can catch up on Part XXXI here. How does this all shake out? We all know booze and action are poor companions. Will cooler heads prevail, or will the whole troupe march out into a war zone to be flattened in their inebriated state? Let’s find out →

As inebriated as many of the residents were, there remained a tension in the dining basement, an air of anxiety as many fought to keep themselves from getting up and going out. Conversation turned from the monsters of the lake to the threat of monsters outside. The passengers from the bus were quick to point out the drunken state of the residents which was taken in stride in some cases, but not in all. Before the bus driver realized what was happening, the room was divided between those who recognized they would be less than useless overhead, and those who were angry about being told they would be less than useless overhead.

The only exceptions were the scientist, who sat silent off to one side, observing.

The bus driver was at a loss of what to do. He felt a responsibility to his passengers, but crowd control was not one of his strong suits. In fact, crowd control ranked nowhere on his list of skills, which was, admittedly, a short list. He looked to Griselda for help but she was busy arguing with another resident. The shouting escalated, with some passengers and residents attempting to deescalate while the rest were at each other's throats.

It all came to a head when one resident grabbed another and raised his fist to strike. The room stopped to watch, ready to explode at the onset of violence. The bus driver looked to Griselda, hoping she might bring reason to the room but was appalled to to find her waiting with bated breath alongside everyone else. The two in the center pulled the bus driver's attention away from Griselda.

"You better fuckin' not, Mark," said the resident whose shirt was knotted up in the other's hand. "You threw the first punch last time."

"Oh fuck you Wallace, I did not," said Mark, but he hesitated.

"Yes you did! Remember, you said I was so drunk I couldn't hit an elephant and I said no problem I'll still be tappin' your mom and then you went all ape shit."

Mark released the man's shirt and stepped back.

"Shit, yeah I remember. So what, you wanna go first then?" He raised his fists as if ready to box, but stumbled when he went to plant his back foot. The two men stared each other down, then as if on cue began laughing.

Wallace pulled Mark in for a hug and the two clapped each other on the back.

"Hey man, I'm really sorry about that shiner I gave you. I really did get away from myself then," said Mark.

"You son of a bitch, that shit hurt. But I accepted your apology then and I accept it now."

The other residents lost interest in yelling at one another and returned to their seats. The passengers followed. The scientist continued sipping her drink and the bus driver was left standing in complete confusion.

"What just happened?" The bus driver looked around as if someone was ready to provide a perfectly sensible answer and he just needed to make eye contact for them to proceed.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Mark standing beside him, waiting to guide him back to his seat.

"We drink, we get riled up, we lose our shit, we deal with the hangover, and then its our turn to watch and be ready," he said, by way of explanation as the two walked to the table where the bus driver had been seated.

"It doesn't make sense to a lot of us," said another resident, "but we've figured out it keeps us from being all wound up when we're not on watch."

"Not a lot of therapists available for video chat since everyone got sick," said the scientist.

"Aye, that part," said one of the residents seated at her table.

The bus driver was thoughtful. They had an entire tarmac over which to exercise at the settlement. Some of the people had organized teams to play sports; others had set up places for creative activities. There was also a good amount of bartering, with people sharing and trading the things they made or services they offered. While everyone had basic survival and combat training, they had teams of people whose sole purpose was the defense of the settlement. But they didn't have the same troubles as those out here. The worst they had to deal with were swarms of wanderers, not monsters of unknown size, shape, and ability who might trespass and raze your way of life in an instant. It was strange to consider how only an hour's drive out from the settlement, the outlook on survival was far different.

When he accepted the job to drive the bus, he didn't realize he would be stepping out of a lukewarm pan into a raging inferno.

Good to see no one got flattened. And no one got clobbered. But what a mind job for the bus driver! “Sure, I’ll drive some people upstate across the desert. What could possibly go wrong?” And now he’s probably rethinking all of his life choices, sitting among the mad people who maintain an outpost upon which many settlements depend on. What, good sir, have you gotten yourself into?

Well, the violence has dissipated, at least in the dining room. Will they remain safe? Or will trouble come find them where they rest? Only one way to find out: come back next week!

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