Chapter 3 — End of Line Bus 08

Mien Dong Bus Enterprise is located in a large complex, surrounded by green trees and the smell of gasoline, behind the gate of Mien Dong bus station. During the day, this place is bustling with dozens of large and small buses jostling in and out, the sound of horns, engines starting, and the shouts of mechanics resounding loudly. Huy arrived in the morning, when the night shift drivers were completing the vehicle handover procedures.

The dispatcher on duty, a middle-aged man with a puffy cigar in his face, looked at Huy with questioning eyes when he heard him ask about the 08 night shift driver Tran Tue.

"Miss Tue? She just handed over the car, she's probably in the back garage." Then he added, his tone not entirely sympathetic: "Who are you? The journalist came to ask Ms. Tue what happened?"

"I was a passenger on the bus last night, forgot something, wanted to meet her to ask," Huy answered easily, an excuse he had prepared in advance.

He found the garage behind the factory. Tran Tue was sitting on a low plastic chair next to the quietly parked bus number 08, his legs stretched out, eating a cold lunch box he brought from home. She changed out of her uniform, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Without the cap, the short hair revealed his face more clearly - younger than Huy thought, about twenty-eight to thirty years old, with sharp, angular features but no less good-looking.

When she saw Huy enter the garage, her eyes immediately changed to a state of alertness. She put down her lunch box, didn't get up, didn't say hello.

"I thought you would come here," Tue said flatly, looking straight into Huy's face. "Journalist."

"You recognized me so quickly," Huy tried a smile, pulled an empty wooden box nearby and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

"The press ID card was hidden in the mesh pocket of my backpack. And what kind of journalist forgets something and comes all the way here just to ask about a lost item?" Tue smirked. "If you want to ask anything, just ask directly. I don't have much time."

Huy quickly assessed the woman in front of him. She was not afraid, not confused. But not hostile either. She is waiting. It was as if she had predicted that someone would come and ask her these things.

"The notebook was under the back seat of the car last night," Huy said bluntly. "Did you know it was there?"

Something flashed across Tue's eyes, as fast as lightning, then disappeared. She continued to look at Huy with a calm expression, but her fingers were unconsciously clenched on the edge of the plastic chair.

"I don't check under the seats. That's the cleaning crew's job."

"But you know it exists," Huy said gently, not asking but affirming. "And you know the names in there."

The silence lasted fifteen seconds. Outside the garage, the sound of a bus engine starting up and a car horn echoing in. Tran Tue looked down at his hands, then looked back at Huy.

"Why do you believe I know?"

"Because last night, when you got out of the car, she told me that there are people who take advantage of the darkness to devour others. Those are not the words of someone who just works as a driver. Those are the words of someone who knows what is going on."

Tue looked at him for a few more seconds, as if considering an important decision. Then she sighed, for the first time since Huy entered, the tough exterior softened a bit.

"If I tell you, what will you do with that information? Write an article and have it cut by the editor? Or really investigate to the end?"

Sentence That question hit Huy in a sore spot, but he did not avoid it. "The editorial office cut my article yesterday. I'm on the loose," he admitted. "But I still have this card, and I still have my head and twenty years of investigative experience. If you believe me, tell me. If not, I'll find a way myself."

Tue nodded slightly, as if that answer was enough to satisfy her. She pulled the other box closer, sat closer, lowered her voice even though there was no one around.

"I've been driving route 08 for three years. Three years ago, this route was as normal as any other bus route, except passing through the area where the Dai Nam Dong project is being implemented. But since the beginning of this year, I started to notice unusual things." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "The dash cam on my car, running 24/7, records everything. But there are nights, when the car passes through the section from Lot 4 stop to Dai Nam intersection, the camera suddenly has interference. The image is lost for ten to fifteen minutes."

"Natural interference?" Huy asked.

"At first I thought so. But then I realized it only happened in a certain stretch of road, and only happened on the night shift from 11:00 p.m. onwards. During the day, the camera ran completely normally through that exact stretch."

Huy took out his small notebook and started taking notes. "Who knows about this?"

"I reported to the factory manager twice. The first time, they sent a technician to check, saying they found no problems, the camera was still working well. The second time, the factory manager called me up and told me that there were many large construction projects in that area, construction equipment could cause interference, it was normal and I didn't need to worry."

"Do you trust them?"

"No," Tue answered briefly. "Because I bought a small personal camera and secretly mounted it in the cabin. That camera uses an independent battery, not connected to the car's system. And it never gets disturbed on that road."

Huy stopped taking notes and looked at Tue with new eyes of appreciation. This is a woman who is more intelligent and careful than he initially thought. "Do you have footage from that personal camera?"

Tue nodded slowly. "Yes. And in there, there are things I have never dared to tell anyone." She looked out the garage door for a moment, as if to confirm no one was watching. "On the night of September 2, around 11:40 p.m., a man wearing a security vest was pushed onto the bus by two other people at the stop near Lot 4. He looked shaken and scared. The other two sat on both sides of him all the way to Dai Nam Junction station, then all three got off together. He did not volunteer. I saw clearly in the rearview mirror."

September 2. Nguyen Van Hung. Carpenter – or guard. Disappeared at 11:45 p.m.

"Do you recognize his face?"

"Not sure. The lights in the car were weak. But I remember he was wearing a blue and white striped jacket, the type of protective vest workers often use. And one of the two people who clamped him had a dragon tattooed on his right wrist."

Huy wrote down every detail. Dragon tattoo on right wrist. This is the first physical clue. "Did you report this incident?"

Tue looked at Huy with eyes that he could read the meaning: don't be so naive. "Who do you think I dare to report to? There is no official camera recording that. Only my small camera. And if I bring that out, people will ask why I illegally installed the camera. I will be fired before I can finish my sentence."

Then still Two more similar times on other nights – men or women who appeared to be controlled or in a state of panic were taken on and off buses at stops around the Dai Nam Dong area. Tue told each incident, his voice steady and calm, like someone who has recounted it over and over in his head many times but never said it out loud.

"Why did you decide to tell me?" Huy asked when Tue stopped.

She looked at him, then into space. "Because last week, I found that notebook. You didn't just pick it up last night. I found it three days ago, cleaning under the seats after the night shift. I read it too." She stopped. "I recognized their names. I recognized the date and time. And I knew I saw at least two of them in my car, in the final moments before they disappeared." Tue's voice shook slightly at the last sentence, but she controlled it immediately. "I was scared. But I couldn't just stuff the notebook in my pocket and pretend I didn't know anything. So I put it back under the chair and waited. Waiting for someone to find it and do something with it."

Huy looked at the young driver and felt a strange respect. The person standing before him was not a hero, not a brave person in the movie sense. She is just a normal woman who is scared but cannot turn a blind eye. That is the truest kind of courage.

"Do you have the video files from that personal camera?" Huy asked.

"Yes. But I won't give it to you right now." Tue looked straight into his eyes. "I need to know who you are. Who you really are. Before I trust you with something that could cost me my job, or worse."

Huy nodded slowly. That's a reasonable request. "Okay. Give me a week. I will prove it with actions, not words." He stood up, pulled out a business card from his wallet and placed it on the wooden box in front of Tue. "If there's anything unusual on the night bus, text me immediately. Regardless of the time."

Tue looked at the business card, didn't pick it up right away, but didn't put it away either. When Huy stepped out of the garage, she called out: "Mr. Huy. There's a flight at 11:30 p.m. tonight. If you want to understand more about this bus route, you know where to be."

That's not an invitation. That's an instruction. And Lam Huy knows that he will be on that bus tonight.