Chapter 8 — End of Line Bus 08

The next night, the air in Saigon was thick with heat, signaling a storm that had not yet broken down. Dark clouds covered the faint stars, making the street darker and more frustrating than usual. Lam Huy was again on the 11:30 p.m. bus. This time, he chose a position near the middle door, where he could easily observe all movements from both ends of the car.

Tran Tue sat behind the wheel, his face stiff. Since discovering the eavesdropping device, she no longer talked to Huy while the car was running. All communication takes place through sharp glances in the rearview mirror or encrypted messages through the secondary phone. Tension is evident in every muscle in her arms every time she drives. She knew this was no longer a normal route; it has turned into a moving target.

The car passes through deserted stops. Nearing the Dai Nam Dong area, the darkness seemed to swallow even the flickering headlights of the old bus.

When the car approached the intersection turning into the internal road of the industrial park - a rough road, without street lights, often plowed by dump trucks - a figure suddenly rushed out from the dense bushes along the road, waving frantically.

Tue slammed on the brakes. The sound of tires screeching against the sand-strewn asphalt road surface creates a deafening sound. The front door opened. A skinny old man, wearing a wrinkled striped shirt, clutching a worn backpack to his chest, staggered forward. His face was pale, drenched in sweat, his eyes looked around wildly like a cornered animal.

Huy immediately recognized this person. This is the familiar passenger that Tue mentioned before - the person she suspects is the next target of the ring. "Sixth witness".

The old man had just swiped his monthly ticket card and before he could find a seat, a terrible incident happened.

From the dark alley where the old man had just run out, three large motorbikes, roaring loudly, simultaneously rushed out onto the main road. They didn't have headlights on, just black ghosts. Two cars jumped forward, blocking the front of the bus. The third car circled behind, blocking the way back.

On each car were two muscular young men, dressed in black, with full-face helmets on their heads, holding long iron pipes and shiny machetes.

"Open the door! Hand that old guy over here!" A guy sitting in a car blocking the way slammed an iron pipe into the windshield and shouted loudly. The dry sound rang out, causing several passengers on the bus to scream in panic and crouch down in their seats.

The old man held his backpack, trembled, retreated, his eyes pleadingly looked at Tue and Huy. "Help... save me! They're going to kill me!"

Huy stood up, retreated towards the middle door, his hand thrust into his coat pocket, clutching a folding knife for self-defense. His heart was beating rapidly, hot blood rushing to his brain. The situation escalated much faster than expected. They are no longer just warning in deserted alleys. They decided to attack on a public bus.

"Miss Tue, don't open the door!" Huy shouted.

Tran Tue doesn't need Huy to remind him. Her lips pressed tightly into a straight line. Her eyes glanced at the rearview mirror, assessing the situation in a split second. Six gangsters have deadly weapons. If she opened the door, the old man would definitely die, and so would she and Huy I can't rest in peace because I've seen too much.

"Hold on tight!" Tue roared, her hands tightening on the steering wheel until blue veins appeared.

Instead of opening the door or begging, Tue put her in first gear and stepped on the accelerator. The ten-ton machine roared angrily, emitting a stream of thick black smoke. The bus did not step back, but jumped forward like a ferocious buffalo, rushing straight into the two motorbikes blocking the road.

The gangsters did not expect the recklessness of a female driver. They quickly abandoned the car and jumped to both sides of the road to escape. The harsh sound of metal colliding and the sound of broken glass rang out as the bus crushed one of the two motorbikes under it, pushing it to tear up the road surface and then sped away.

"Damn it! Get it!" The sound of swearing echoed in the background.

The third motorbike that was not hit immediately revved up to chase. The two guys who lost their car quickly climbed into their accomplice's car, creating a terrifying chase in the dark.

Tran Tue gritted his teeth and stepped on the accelerator to the floor. The bulky bus, originally designed to carry passengers slowly, was now traveling at a speed of more than eighty kilometers per hour on the narrow suburban road. It shook violently after each sharp turn, causing passengers inside to fling from side to side, screaming miserably.

Huy held tightly to the stainless steel railing, trying to keep his balance. He looked through the rearview mirror. Three motorbikes followed closely behind like hungry leeches. They zigzagged and tried to get close to both sides of the bus, trying to break the window glass. A deafening "clack" sound rang out, a piece of the machete hit the glass pane near where Huy stood, causing it to crack into a spider web but not completely break.

"They're trying to break the glass!" Huy shouted to the cockpit.

"I know! Hold on tight to that old man!" Tue replied, her voice not trembling at all.

Tue turned the steering wheel and steered the giant car that took up most of the road surface. Her excellent driving skills made it impossible for those following her to find space to overtake. Every time they tried to turn left, Tue forced the front of the car to the left, forcing them to brake suddenly if they didn't want to be crushed into the median.

But buses cannot escape large motorbikes on a long straight stretch of road. Tue knows that clearly. She needed a terrain advantage.

"Almost at Linh Xuan roundabout! Keep your head down!" Tue shouted a warning.

Instead of running straight along the main road to the national highway, Tue suddenly turned the steering wheel to the right at a very sharp corner, rushing straight into a small dirt road, with overgrown reeds on both sides. This is a shortcut leading to the area of a textile factory that was abandoned many years ago.

The bus shook violently, the wheels slid on the muddy surface, throwing mud into the air. The car's undercarriage scraped against the thorny bushes growing into the road.

The pursuers were surprised by the spectacular steering wheel. The two motorbikes lost momentum and almost fell before they could brake and turn around to chase down the dirt road.

In the abandoned factory area, there were no street lights, only the ghostly light of the moon dimly shining through the dark clouds. Tue did not turn on the headlights, she only used yellow fog lights, relying on her supernatural memory of every corner of this area to navigate the car through the rows of factories. rubble, concrete blocks scattered about.

The pursuers began to lose their advantage. Motorcycles cannot run fast on such muddy and obstacle-filled terrain. Their headlights scanned wildly in the night, trying to follow the bright red taillights of the bus.

Tue took the car around the back of a long row of rusty corrugated iron warehouses, then suddenly turned sharply into a large yard with a huge roof but half of it had collapsed. She stepped on the brakes hard, the car skidded a long distance and then stopped completely. Immediately, she turned off the engine and turned off all electric lights in the car.

Darkness fell and covered everything. The sudden silence was chilling, only the rapid breathing of the people in the car could be heard and the sound of rain starting to patter on the roof.

Outside, the headlights of motorbikes passed by the warehouse area, the sound of engines roaring in search. They ran around the abandoned factory area several times, cursing loudly. The light swept back and forth, sometimes passing through the bus window, causing Huy's heart to stop beating. He signaled everyone to lie down on the floor of the car and hold their breath.

About fifteen minutes later, the sound of the motorbike gradually faded away and then completely disappeared into the sound of the increasingly heavy rain. They have lost track.

Tue put her forehead on the steering wheel, exhaled a long, exhausted breath, her arms shaking from excessive muscle tension. Huy slowly stood up and walked towards the old man who was clutching his backpack, cowering and mumbling prayers in the corner of the car.

Huy knelt down and put his hand on his shoulder. "You're safe. They're gone. Now, tell us, who are you, and why did they want to take your life in the middle of the street?"

Before the old man could answer, a sobbing sound was heard from the back of the car. A little girl about eight years old was holding her mother's arm tightly, with a scratch on her cheek from flying glass. The mother tried to use a tissue to wipe away the baby's blood, but her hand was shaking so much that she couldn't tear the wrapper. In the opposite row, a young worker hit his head on the railing, sat hunched over, constantly asking where this was.

Huy immediately changed his tone. He told the old man to sit still and then walked along the car compartment to check on each person. Luckily no one was seriously injured. He used a bottle of water to clean the baby's scratches, tore a clean piece of cloth from the first aid bag and tied it around the worker's forehead, then asked everyone to turn off their phones or switch to airplane mode. A middle-aged man objected, saying he should call the police immediately. Huy looked through the cracked glass and saw the distant lights of motorbikes still streaking across the rain.

"If they hear the phone ringing or trace the location from a call, the whole car will be surrounded again," he said. "Everyone, please give us ten minutes. When we leave this area, I will personally call a reliable force to pick me up."

No one argued further. The passengers, who were just strangers, suddenly silently coordinated with each other. A female student took a band-aid out of her bag. The injured worker gave his coat to the little girl. A vegetable seller sitting near the back door picked up large pieces of glass and put them in a plastic bag so no one would step on them. That small kindness made the cabin feel less like a trap, even though outside the rain still pounded on the corrugated iron roof like a thousand urging fingers.

Tue left the driver's seat, grabbed a flashlight and bent down to check the front wheel. The crash over the motorbike damaged the fender bent, scraping against the tire every time the wheel rotates. A brake air hose has a thin crack. She used steel wire from the toolbox to temporarily fix the shield, then lay down on the mud floor to look under the hood. When she stood up, half of her body was covered in dirt but her eyes were calm again.

"The car can still run, but it can't go any faster," Tue whispered to Huy. "If the brakes lose pressure in the middle of the road, we'll kill ourselves before those guys can get back."

Huy looked towards the old man. He still held his worn backpack close to his chest as if inside was a second heart. An extremely small blue light suddenly flashed at the seam near the strap and then went out immediately. Huy thought he was mistaken, but a few seconds later it blinked again, steadily and coldly.

"Give me the backpack."

The old man jerked back, shaking his head violently. "No way. This is the only thing I still have."

"There's something in the handle. If I guess right, they haven't lost sight of us. They're just waiting for us to come out of hiding on our own."

Tue shines the light on the road. She used the scissors in the first aid box to slit the lining. A black plastic object, as small as a coin, fell into Huy's palm. On its face is a flashing green signal light. The old man looked at the navigation device, the cross section had no blood left.

“I checked my pockets three times,” he whispered. "When did they attach it?"

"Maybe before you ran away from home." Huy squeezes the device between two fingers but does not destroy it. "If we turn it off now, they'll know we found it. We need to keep it moving."

At the end of the warehouse there was the sound of metal rolling on the cement floor. Everyone simultaneously held their breath. Tue turned off the flashlight. Huy signaled the passengers to bow low, then followed the car's body to the crack of the corrugated iron door. Through the rain, he saw a scrap truck moving slowly on the service road behind the factory. The truck's trunk was filled with aluminum frames and sacks, heading to the recycling area a few kilometers away.

Tue understood what he meant immediately. She took a roll of tape and wrapped the locator onto a large screw. The two men crawled through the pile of broken bricks to the fence. When the truck passed by, Huy threw it hard. The snail fell on the trunk of the car, covered by the sound of rain and scrap metal. The blue light continued to drift farther and farther east.

Less than three minutes later, the lights of two motorbikes appeared at the beginning of the dirt road. They did not enter the warehouse but turned sharply in the direction of the truck. The sound of the engine gradually faded, then disappeared behind the factory row. No one cheered. A simple trap only buys time, and everyone knows that time can be very short.

Tue returned to the cockpit but did not start the engine. She removed the fuse from the lighting system in the compartment so that the car wouldn't suddenly light up, and told everyone to close the curtains and sit lower than the edge of the glass. Huy opened the offline map on his secondary phone. The main path has been controlled by the pursuit; The northern entrance has a locked transport gate; To the west is a shallow drainage ditch running parallel to the old railway line. The bus could not get into the ditch, but could follow the maintenance road and then turn around to the boulevard after nearly four kilometers.

"I didn't take the whole car to the nearest police station," Huy told Tue. "If their people were present in the system, the license plate would have been reported. First, we must separate the passengers in a bright and crowded place, then change vehicles."

"There is a wholesale market that operates from three in the morning," Tue replied. "Behind the market there is a truck park and a medical room. I know how to manage the night shift. From there, people can go home without having to go through station 08."

A thunderclap boomed on the roof. The old man cowered, his arms still holding the backpack whose straps had now been ripped open. Huy returned and sat opposite him. This time he didn't put his hand on his shoulder or force him to look at him. He put the water bottle on the floor between the two of them, as if setting a boundary for him to choose.

"You saw her risking her life to save you. The people in the car also just put their lives on our decision," Huy said. "If you continue to hide the story, the next time you chase someone, someone will die. I don't need you to tell me everything right now. Just tell me whether what they want is in your backpack, in your head, or somewhere else."

The old man looked at every face around the car. The baby's cheek was scratched and he stopped crying, but still leaned close to his mother. The vegetable seller is using his foot to keep the bag of glass pieces from slipping. There was a red mark on Tue's wrist from the steering wheel jerking hard. Those marks seem heavier than any accusations.

"Not in the backpack," he said finally, his voice dry. "There's only clothes in here and a shell for them to chase after. I've hidden the real thing somewhere else. If you make it through the night, I'll give you the key."

"Where's the key?"

The old man looked up at Huy. The rain reflected in his eyes in broken streaks of light. He opened his mouth, but at that moment the old walkie-talkie on Tue's dashboard suddenly buzzed. An unfamiliar male voice read the license plate number correctly, then ordered all road guards in the factory area to close the gate.

Tue rushed back to the driver's seat. "Time's up."

Huy squeezed the folding knife in his pocket and looked at the old man one last time. "When the car drives, you will tell me from the beginning. Real names, jobs, the year the person was missing and where that evidence was kept. Don't miss anything."

The old man nodded very slowly. Outside, the bus engine sputtered twice and then roared. In the hidden flashlight light, his face looked decades older. He took a deep breath, preparing to open the door that had been locked in his heart for many years, while Tue released the handbrake and sent the last bus rolling into the rain.