Fever could hear Harelip start one of his rambling, incoherent rants. He continued to stare out the window. As the bus pushed down Broadway, he noticed an odd shifting around the storefronts on the street. It was as if there were heat waves emanating from the structures, which gave the impression that they were fluid or shifting in space. Fever had seen this phenomenon before in his ritual work. The buildings were aware. They were watching him.
“We need to get off the bus.” Fever said absently to Harelip.
“… who cares if you eat human meat. Cannibalism should not be illegal.” Harelip said, his voice rising in indignation.
Fever could feel an oppressive air encompass the bus. Looking around, he noticed several people staring aggressively at the two of them.
“We need to get off the bus right now.” He pulled the cord and stood up, pushing Harelip with his good knee.
“What the fuck, man.”
From the back of the bus came a low voice. “Fever.” The voice had the cadence and tone of a foghorn. He looked up and saw a wiry man in his 30’s wearing a tight black shirt and faded jeans sitting at the back of the bus. His legs were spread wide and his lips were curled in a sneer. He was staring directly at Fever.
“Fever.” He intoned again.
Fever’s gut tightened with rage. If circumstances were different, he would have unloaded on this punk.
“I’ll choke you out, motherfucker.” Fever spat as he stumbled to the rear doors of the bus.
The man began a slow clap, still staring at Fever. Fuck it, he thought. He pushed open the doors and hopped out.
“Fucking Christian!” Harelip shouted as he followed Fever out of the bus.
Fever did not look back. Instead, he was staring at the building in front of him. And the building was staring back.