A few minutes later...
Orsaga organized his thoughts along with Harris's and relayed them to the others on the school bus.
But everyone just laughed it off, thinking he was joking.
Orsaga could only shrug helplessly in response.
The bus, rocking slightly, continued on its way.
---
About thirty minutes passed.
Inside the school bus, Head Coach Harris was still trying various methods—cell phone, radio, walkie-talkie—to contact the outside world.
"Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? Hello?…"
But the signal remained intermittent and broken.
Even the radio station that had been coming through clearly earlier was now reduced to nothing but static and garbled noise.
It felt as if something was actively interfering with all electronic signals.
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Harris slammed the device down and scratched his head in frustration.
"Damn it! It's like we've been completely cut off from the outside world…"
At first, the others on the bus hadn't taken it seriously.
But now, they were starting to feel that something was off. One after another, they pulled out their phones and tried to make calls.
None of them got through.
Every single phone was dead silent.
A creeping sense of unease began to rise in everyone's hearts.
After all, what era was this?
Unless they were in the middle of a no-man's-land, there should at least be some signal, right?
A student couldn't help but speak up, a nervous grin on his face:
"Hey, guys. Flat tire out of nowhere, no cell service, no pedestrians around for miles. I don't know about you, but this is exactly how horror movies start, yeah?. I'm telling you, something's off. Maybe we should bail while we still can?"
Another boy scowled and snapped at him:
"Shit, shut up!. Keep talking like that, and I promise you'll be the first one to die!"
"Why so aggressive? I'm just saying what we're all thinking—ow, my kidney—!"
Before he could finish, the student next to him threw a sharp elbow into his side.
As the atmosphere inside the bus grew heavier by the second, the cheerleading captain turned to Orsaga with a nervous expression.
"Just now... you and Coach Harris weren't joking?. Something really is watching us?"
Orsaga gave her a casual smile and answered honestly,
"There's no reason for the two of us to lie about something like this, right?"
Then, ignoring the way her face changed, he turned to the rest of the students and asked,
"Anyone have a notebook and a pen?"
A brown-haired girl perked up. "I do!"
She pulled a palm-sized notebook and a fountain pen out of her backpack.
"Thanks."
Orsaga took them, tore out two sheets of paper, and folded them into hollow paper containers.
Then he looked around again and asked,
"Is anyone here a virgin? Preferably someone who's also a Christian."
The awkwardness of the question brought instant silence to the entire bus.
In an open society like this, if you were still a virgin at a certain age, there were usually only a few possible reasons—and three stood out above the rest:
Too ugly, too poor, or deeply religious.
Seeing no one respond, Orsaga said lightly,
"Don't be shy. This is your time to shine~"
A few seconds later, a bespectacled student raised his hand, looking uncomfortable.
"I'm a virgin. And… my whole family's Christian."
Orsaga's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Perfect. You're exactly the kind of talent I need."
He walked over and said,
"Alright, just give me your hand."
"...?"
Though visibly confused, the bespectacled boy still extended his hand.
The next moment, he saw Orsaga pull something out and make a swift cut across his palm.
Before he could react, a stream of blood flowed into the paper container in Orsaga's hand.
The pain hit a second later, and the boy clutched his hand and screamed in panic:
"Oh my God!. What the hell did you just do?!"
As blood dripped from his palm, Orsaga calmly put away the dart he had used.
"Relax. It's just a three-centimeter cut, maybe half a centimeter deep. Splash some alcohol on it, you'll be fine."
Then he turned to a teacher nearby, who was still in shock, and said,
"You've got a first-aid kit on board, right? Patch him up."
The teacher stood frozen, unable to comprehend what Orsaga was trying to do.
But one muscular student with a short temper had already lost his patience.
He shot to his feet, face red with fury.
"What the hell are you trying to pull?!"
As he reached out, intending to grab Orsaga—
The next second, under everyone's stunned gaze, Orsaga whipped around and landed a spinning kick straight to his chest.
The guy spun five or six times before crashing to the floor, limbs flailing.
Ignoring him as he groaned and tried to get up, Orsaga calmly returned to his seat.
"Don't interfere. I'm trying to save your lives here."
As everyone stared in disbelief, he unscrewed the fountain pen, squeezed out the ink, and poured it into the paper cup filled with blood.
He swirled it until well mixed, then drew the liquid back into the pen.
And then, he began to write in the notebook.
A few minutes later, as the sharp, mechanical strokes of his handwriting filled the page like something printed from a machine, the cheerleading captain sitting beside him couldn't help but smack her lips.
It all looked strangely familiar.
"Wait… are you transcribing the Bible?"
Without even glancing up, Orsaga replied,
"Yeah. A specific chapter."
Not long after, with the notebook now filled with scripture, he walked back over to the bespectacled student and handed it to him.
"Read this out loud—as devoutly as you can."
The student, still nursing his bandaged palm, looked irritated and ready to refuse.
But then he glanced at Orsaga's unnervingly calm eyes…
And then at the poor guy still groaning from that earlier roundhouse kick…
He had a change of heart. No point picking a fight now.
"…Fine, I'll read it."
As he began to recite the scripture, something inside him gradually shifted.
His voice grew steadier, his expression solemn. An odd sense of reverence settled over him, as though he were standing inside a sacred chapel.
Meanwhile, Orsaga turned to Harris and said,
"Try the signal again."
Harris glanced at the boy reading the Bible, still skeptical, but picked up the bus's radio communicator and tried again.
"Bzzzzt… click—This is the Ridgewood Police Department. How can we assist you?"
A male voice came through, crackly but unmistakable.
Everyone on the bus immediately lit up with joy.
Harris quickly replied,
"This is the Glint High School basketball team!. Our bus tire was sabotaged!. We're stranded on Route 9—please send help immediately!"
The officer on the other end immediately honed in on a key detail:
"Sabotaged??. Please describe the situation in more—"
BANG!
Before he could finish, an unidentified object smashed through the bus window and impaled the radio in an instant.
The connection cut out.
Harris didn't hesitate. He dove for cover behind one of the seats and shouted at the others:
"We're under attack!. Get down, now!"
The inside of the school bus exploded into chaos as everyone ducked their heads and scrambled for cover.
_____
T/N:
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