Night Buses Arrive Empty in Montelune
Drivers vanish, buses keep moving
In 20█9, the mountain town of Montelune is quiet and afraid. Three night buses arrived at the central stop this week. All came on time. All doors opened. No drivers were inside. The engines were running. The lights were on. Passengers sat still, looking ahead. None spoke when police called out.
Montelune sits between steep roads and long tunnels. People depend on buses to reach work and school. After the first empty arrival, many waited for answers. Officials checked cameras inside the vehicles. The video showed the drivers taking their seats. The buses left the depot. Then the pictures blurred for one minute. When the video cleared, the driver seats were empty.
Witnesses described the same strange calm. "No one moved," said Lea Ferret, who sells coffee at the station. "They just breathed slow, like sleeping with eyes open. One boy held a flute bag. He did not blink." A mechanic tried the emergency brake. His hands shook. The bus stopped softly, as if it already planned to stop there.
More people are missing each night. Families line the square at dusk. They hold lunch boxes and school jackets. A woman named Marthe showed a ticket for the B5 line. "He left at seven," she said. "His seat came back at eight. He did not." The town hung small bells at the depot gate. They ring when a bus returns. They ring many times before dawn.
The mayor announced free rides only during daylight. Night routes will continue by law, but no one must board them. An aide said the town asked the valley authority for help. The mountain road workers checked the tunnels and found nothing. The bus company painted new numbers on the windshields. They hope to break the pattern. The numbers wash away by morning.
Today, the drivers’ locker room stays open and neat. Folded uniforms wait on the benches. Keys lie in straight lines. On the wall, a paper map shows every stop. Someone has circled a place called Col-Sourd, where no road exists. Why do the buses still know the way?