Tony's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Bev rolled to a stop at the far-route station. Tony climbed out with the kitten. Three buses waited in a row, engines rumbling. Signs hung above their windshields, each showing a different route. Tony's stomach twisted. One of these buses matched his mother's. The other two would carry him far off her trail. He had one guess, and a wrong one meant losing her. "I can't just pick," Tony said. "If I guess wrong, I'll never catch up." He hugged the kitten tighter. The little cat squirmed and mewed toward the second bus. Tony walked the row, reading each sign. The first route ended at a huge glass mall with green terraces stacked on its roof. The second passed an old street of little shops. The third climbed into the hills. He needed proof, not a guess. His mother had left a trail every step so far. She would leave one here too. He crouched and set the kitten down. "You were with her," he whispered. "You remember." The kitten trotted straight to the second bus and pawed at the door. Tony's heart jumped, but he stopped himself. A pet's steps weren't proof. He needed something he could trust. Tony climbed aboard the second bus. "Excuse me," he said to the driver. "Did a woman ride your route three days ago? Dark hair. A kitten in a carrier." The driver shook his head. Tony tried the first bus next. Same question, same shake. His hope thinned. On the third bus, the driver frowned, thinking. "A carrier, you said?" She pointed at a small poster taped by the door. It showed the old street of shops, one storefront circled in red. "She asked me about that place. The little store with the orange sign. Wanted to know if my route stopped near it." She tapped the poster. "I told her no. Said the mall route runs closest." Tony stared at the poster. His mother hadn't wanted the mall. She'd wanted the old storefront. "So which bus goes near it?" he asked. "None of these three," the driver said. "That store's off a smaller line now. But the mall bus lets off two blocks away. That's the stop she took." The kitten had pawed at the wrong door. The proof pointed to the first bus, the glass mall route. Tony ran back and climbed aboard it. "This one," he told himself. "She went here." He leaned out the window. "Bev! It's the mall route. She got off near an old store with an orange sign." Bev's headlights flashed. "Then go. I can't follow city buses. You're on your own from here." The doors hissed shut. Tony pressed the kitten to his chest as the bus pulled forward. He had the right route at last. But now he rode alone, chasing a storefront he'd never seen, with no truck to carry him back.