Chapter 6

Breathless and grateful, Devon took out his own code and scanned both his bus pass and pandemic code. A pleasant chime signaled that the passenger had both fare money and a clean history of infectious diseases that could cause harm to society.

He lifted his bag above his head to squeeze his way down the aisle towards a pair of open seats. Exhausted, he plopped down hard on the seat and leaned his head back on the headrest. Cool air blew on his face and, though it was like breathing into an open refrigerator, Devon sighed with relief.

The Convention hadn’t even started yet and he was utterly exhausted. It should not have been such a production just to get on the bus—all over a stupid hat! The hat was becoming more trouble than it was worth. He considered taking the hat off and throwing it in his bag.

But another, more stubborn part of him insisted he keep the hat on.

And why not? There was no law saying that a man couldn’t wear a hat with a feather in the brim. There was no reason for Momma to kick him out for buying it—through the machinations of his own sister, no less. Couldn’t people just mind what was on their own goddamn heads?

Devon stewed around in these thoughts when he realized the bus hadn’t started moving.

Jaxton stuck his foot in the door. A few of the other passengers careened their heads towards the entrance. Near the entrance, the middle-aged lady stood with her hands on her hips, chastising Jaxton.

A few of the passengers grumbled.

“Oh, for the love of…if the bus wasn’t slow enough!”

“We’ll never get anywhere at this rate. Next time, I’ll just pay the fees and drive my own car.”

“This is ridiculous…”

Devon pinched the bridge of his nose. Getting onto the bus should have meant he was ‘home-free’, as the saying went. But Jaxton would not give up. He kept his foot lodged in the door. An automated voice complained to the accompaniment of a screeching alarm :

“OBSTRUCTION DETECTED. IN ORDER TO CONTINUE THE SAFE OPERATION OF THE VEHICLE, PLEASE REMOVE OBJECT FROM THE DOORWAY. OBSTRUCTION DETEC—”

Beeping, shouting, blaring, robot voices, human voices… the bus filled with a horrific crescendo of noise. In the back, a younger passenger began to cry. Devon saw a wave of heads bobbing as some of the more prepared passengers stopped up their ears with earplugs or headphones. The more unlucky passengers became irate and only added to the noise.

Roused by the commotion, the bus driver dragged his head out from his magazine. His eyes held the dull, glazed look of a person who lived in a perpetual brain fog, ground down either by the tedium of life or the relentless brain-foaming of COVID induced dementia. The driver turned to Jaxton with movements that suggested the driver’s family relation from a koala or a sloth. Indeed, there was something about his movements that did seem rather koala-like, his eyes revealing only dull marsupial thoughts It was the driver’s job to ensure the smooth operation of the bus, but the busy did all that for him, and he really, really wanted to get back to his magazine.

“Sir,” the driver said with a plodding, drunk-molasses tone, “please scan your passenger fare and show your pandemic prevention code or depart from the vehicle.” Somehow the driver gave ‘vehicle’ four syllables until it sounded more like “vee-uh-hih-kull”.

Jaxton glared at the driver for a bit and then sneered. “I’ll be happy to get off the ‘vee-uh-hih-kull’-—as soon as that guy with the feather hat gets off the bus too,” he said.

The driver blinked. He turned around slowly looked towards Devon, who was now profoundly regretting his stubborn choice to keep wearing the hat.

“Sir,” began the driver, “that passenger has already paid his fare and showed his prevention code—“

Jaxton interrupted him. “—yeah, but you know what? Yeah, but—stop talking for a minute—he assaulted me and my friends just now. That’s illegal“ Though the driver tried to speak, Jaxton wouldn’t let him get even a word in. “Are you defending this criminal’s illegal actions right now? Huh? Cause that’s also illegal, you know that, right?”

The driver shrank back in his seat. Illegal? It was enough mental struggle to put on his own clothes in the morning--the thought that could ever take part in any kind of criminality was frightening. He was just doing his job—how could that be illegal?

Suddenly the middle aged woman put herself in between the driver and Jaxton, hands on her hips.

“Now just hold on a minute there, young man. Our driver just doing his job. How dare you take that kind of attitude with him—he did nothing to you, and secondly, you don’t get to say what is illegal and what’s not! Are you a lawyer?”

Jaxton’s face darkened with fury.

“How do you know I’m not?”

The middle aged woman laughed.

“You’re joking right? Are you implying you’re a lawyer? I’ve got two children older than you. You trying to impersonate a properly barred lawyer now? Cause that is illegal.”

Jaxton’s jaw went tight enough to crack a tooth. Why did he think that would work? What had started off as a joke at the expense of Feather-Hat sitting in the back was now spiraling out of control. A part of Jaxton just wanted to take the loss and move on—but another, far stronger part, insisted that he double down. No going back. No compromise. He would push through until he won, and right now ‘winning’ meant that Feather Hat had to suffer.

With that thought locked in his mind, Jaxton pursed his lips and, with a great shove, forced his way onto the bus.

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