CH 4 : IS IT A TROUBLE???

A woman typed quickly on her computer, searching for something.

"Northern Star Coaches?" she said, reading from the screen.

Across the room, a man was loading bullets into his gun. "How many seats?" he asked without looking up.

"Fifty-seven total. Forty-three are booked. The rest are for emergencies."

He zipped his bag and smirked. "Good. What's the timing?"

She checked again. "10 a.m. There's a 30% chance of delay. We'll have at most thirty minutes to reach."

He sighed. "Twenty kilometers away, heavy traffic… too risky." He thought for a second before deciding. "Okay, we'll catch the next one. Book it now. Make sure your seat is right next to mine."

She looked at him and smiled. "We'll play The To-Do List act this time."

He smirked back as she booked the tickets.

---

Bus Name: Borderline Express

Seat Numbers: 24/30 and 25/30

Passengers: Jacob Ellsworth & Noelle Montgomery

---

At the Bus Stop

Jacob slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Got a call from home."

Noelle adjusted her bag. "Something important?"

"Yeah, they need some toys. But I told them I'm out of town for a few days. They'll manage." His voice was soft.

Noelle suddenly fixed her bag strap. "Next stop is thirteen kilometers away. I'll be there. Keep my seat safe."

Before Jacob could ask where she was going, she took off running.

He watched her, shaking his head with a small smile. "She'd do anything for my kids… maybe that's what she always wanted in life." He exhaled and looked ahead. "But first, I need to finish this mission."

He stood at the stop, waiting for the bus.

The bus arrived, and Jacob stepped inside. As he walked to his seat, he noticed someone was already sitting there—Noelle's seat. Instead of confronting them immediately, he decided to act like he was still searching for his seat number.

Finally, he stopped beside the young girl occupying the seat.

"Excuse me, Miss... Is this your seat?" he asked politely.

The girl looked up at him, pausing for a moment before replying with a slight smirk.

"Not yet. But if you're willing to sell it to me, it will be."

Jacob was impressed by her quick wit. He chuckled and took the seat next to her.

"You have a good sense of humor," he thought. "That means she's probably a working professional with a few years of experience."

He turned toward her. "So, you know this isn't your seat, but you're still sitting here? And now you want to buy it?"

She smiled. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I booked my seat late because I missed my earlier bus."

Jacob nodded, taking a moment to think. "Fair enough. Relax... By the way, you are?"

"Evelyn. Evelyn Monroe," she said, smiling.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Monroe," Jacob replied as they shook hands.

A drop of sweat ran down her face.

"Looks like you're sweating. No surprise—it's burning hot today," Jacob said, leaning back into his seat.

Without hesitation, Evelyn replied, "57.8 degrees Celsius. Hot, dry weather… today's forecast."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, turning his head toward her. "Damn, you're a walking newspaper." He gave her a surprised smile.

She smirked. "Not a newspaper. But let's just say newspapers need my reports to get people's attention."

Jacob studied her carefully. "She's sharp. Her words make me feel like I should be careful around her."

"I didn't get you," he said, curious.

"I'm a journalist at New York Journal. Been working there for two and a half years. So yeah, knowing these things is just basic for me," Evelyn explained.

Jacob nodded slowly, realizing she was someone he needed to keep an eye on.

"I'm Jacob," he said, introducing himself. "I'm traveling from New York to Canada. Maybe that's where my journey is meant to take me."

After speaking, Jacob looked forward, his eyes searching for Noelle.

Evelyn watched him curiously. "So, you're a traveler? Wandering just for fun?" she asked.

Jacob shook his head slightly. "Not exactly, Miss Monroe."

For a moment, memories flashed in his mind—the struggles, the pain, the hard work. His life had never been easy. It had been tough, exhausting, and full of battles. And now, he was on another mission—a dangerous one. He had handled harder missions before, but he knew one thing for sure: no one could predict the future.

He took a deep breath, pushing his past aside. "Time to focus," he thought. "First, I have to handle her."

Turning back to Evelyn, he said with a small smile, "I have my own reasons for traveling. But if someone asks for an easy answer, I just say—it's on my life's to-do list."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. "Ohh!" she said, a smile forming on her lips.

Jacob chuckled. "By the way, why are you going to Canada? Are you interested in its weather forecast?" he teased.

Evelyn smirked. "Actually, Canada's forecast is interested in me. That's why I'm leaving New York—because of its crazy heat."

Jacob smiled, realizing she was sharp. "She's tough. Not easy to beat in words. Well, she is a journalist, after all."

After a moment, Jacob spoke carefully. "So, Miss Evelyn, my friend is on the way. She'll probably be here at the next stop. If you don't mind, could you switch seats? There are plenty of empty ones."

His tone was polite, as if he felt bad for asking.

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't know that. Sorry!" she said quickly.

She stood up in a hurry, grabbed her purse, and moved toward another seat. Just as she did, the bus came to a stop—her timing was perfect.

Noelle stepped into the bus, breathing a little heavy. Her eyes quickly searched the crowd. She looked around with worry, hoping she hadn't missed him.

Jacob was already looking at her, quietly waiting for the moment she would notice him.

Finally, their eyes met. Noelle gave a small smile and walked toward him.

"Huh! That was tough," she said as she sat down beside him, catching her breath.

Jacob looked at her with a warm smile. "Don't tell me you just reached the stop," he said gently.

"Yeah… just in time," Noelle replied, still trying to breathe normally after running.

Jacob looked around the bus, then leaned a little toward her and whispered, "Can't wait anymore."

He stood up, glanced around again, and started walking toward the front of the bus.

The conductor, who was sitting near the door, noticed Jacob coming closer.

"Sir, do you need anything?" he asked, standing up in confusion.

But Jacob didn't reply. His eyes were fixed outside the window, watching the road carefully, searching for a perfect turn—the moment he needed.

The conductor raised his voice a bit. "Sir, please sit down. You're disturbing other passengers."

Jacob slowly leaned toward the conductor's ear and whispered, "Actually, I need you to sit down... properly."

Then, standing straight again, he added with a sharp tone, "Sir."

His voice was calm, but something in it made the conductor nervous. His smile looked polite, but his eyes—cold and serious—spoke something else.

The conductor tried to stay strong. "Please stop this. Don't trouble the passengers," he said, and reached out to push Jacob back.

But Jacob didn't move—not even a little.

Then, the bus took a slight curve. Jacob noticed it. It was the moment he was waiting for.

He gave a soft smile, looked at the conductor one last time, and then—without any warning—grabbed the man's face with his right hand and smashed it hard against the bus's metal rod.

Thud.

The sound echoed in the bus.

The conductor didn't even scream. His body went still and he dropped down into the nearest seat—unconscious.

Jacob stood straight, breathing calmly, as if nothing had happened.

"Heyy... What just happened, man?" a young guy sitting nearby said as he slowly stood up, his eyes on the unconscious conductor.

Most passengers had now seen what happened. Whispering started to spread like a wave.

"What's going on?"

"Is he okay?"

"Why did he do that?"

The young man took a step forward, still confused. He looked at Jacob, who stood silently, staring out at the road.

"Hey! I'm talking to you. What's your problem?" the man said again, walking slowly toward Jacob.

He placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder, gently shaking him—but Jacob didn't react.

Jacob kept mumbling, his eyes locked on the road.

"300 miles… 300 miles… yeah… here it is," he whispered to himself.

His eyes caught a board on the side of the road:

Montreal, Canada – 300 miles.

The man frowned. "Driver! Stop the bus! Something's wrong here!" he shouted.

Hearing his voice, Jacob slowly turned back, finally noticing the man touching his shoulder.

In a calm voice, he said, "Please sit down, sir."

The guy was furious. "What's wrong with you? Why did you hit the conductor? Are you out of your mind?"

Then he looked at the driver and shouted again, "Stop the bus right now! I'm calling the cops!"

Jacob's eyes turned sharp. He knew this man could ruin everything.

The man pulled out his phone. The bus started to slow down.

But before he could dial, Jacob acted.

He grabbed the man's phone and—without warning—smashed it straight into his head. The phone broke apart in an instant. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious.

A gasp spread through the bus.

Fear.

Panic.

People froze in their seats, trying to understand what was happening.

Jacob reached behind his back and pulled out a gun—the same one he had taken from his bag earlier.

He walked straight to the driver and pressed the gun against his head.

"This is a kind request," Jacob said coldly. "Don't stop the bus—for your life and for your family."

His voice was steady. Calm. But dangerous.

This wasn't just a man with a gun. He had already hurt two people and didn't look like he would hesitate to hurt more.

The passengers were terrified. Some people from the back started to stand, maybe to stop him.

But then Noelle stood up.

In her hand—a gun.

She pointed it straight at the passengers and smiled.

"Over-smartness," she said softly, "usually ends with death."

Her sweet smile didn't match the fear she was spreading. It was cold. Deadly.

People sat back down. Silent. Scared.

And the bus kept moving forward... into something far more dangerous than they had imagined.