Chapter 5 - The Camera That Stayed Alive
The green lights vanished one by one.
Front camera.
Rear camera.
Driver camera.
Aisle camera.
The hooded gangster relaxed.
I didn’t.
The last indicator near the ceiling had flickered differently. It dimmed, brightened once, then went dark half a second after the others.
That delay could mean nothing.
Or it could mean the camera had switched to backup power.
I followed the cable running from its housing toward a ceiling panel above the rear exit.
Older transit hardware often stored a local copy before transmitting. I knew that because a former shipmate had spent twelve years maintaining city surveillance systems after leaving the service. He complained about outdated buses every time we met for coffee.
A useless detail—until it wasn’t.
Vince pushed away from the rail.
I let him.
He rolled his shoulder, trying to hide how much it hurt.
“You made your point,” he said. “Now move aside.”
“No.”
His eyes lowered toward Ranger.
“Then the dog gets it first.”
Ranger’s head shifted by less than an inch.
Vince saw the scar across his muzzle and mistook stillness for weakness.
That mistake had nearly cost him his wrist once already.
The bearded gangster moved behind Vince, keeping distance from Ranger. The hooded man remained near the driver, listening to the radio.
Claire slid her purse onto an empty seat.
Her hand emerged empty.
Vince noticed.
“Where’s the drive?”
She stared at him.
He grabbed the purse, ripped it open, and dumped the contents onto the floor.
A wallet.
Hospital badge.
Lip balm.
Phone charger.
Loose receipts.
No flash drive.
His face changed.
“Search her.”
The bearded man stepped forward.
I blocked him.
He raised both hands. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“You tried to cave in my dog’s skull.”
“Vince gets excited.”
Vince shot him a look.
The bearded man swallowed.
I had another name soon after.
“Mason,” Vince snapped, “do your job.”
Mason’s eyes stayed on me.
He did not want to.
The hooded gangster turned from the driver.
“The intercept team is ninety seconds out.”
Vince’s urgency sharpened.
He grabbed Claire by the sleeve.
I broke his grip with one downward strike to the inside of his forearm and moved Claire behind me again.
Vince backed away, breathing hard.
The aggression in him was becoming less controlled. He had expected the bus to be secured before anyone resisted. Every delay increased the risk that the people arriving would blame him.
That made him dangerous.
It also made him predictable.
The driver guided the bus onto a narrower street lined with closed storefronts. Snow flurries streaked through the headlights.
“No traffic here,” Harris warned.
The hooded man smiled. “Perfect.”
I looked at the windows.
The blue reflections were closer now.
Claire touched my elbow.
Her other hand remained inside the sleeve of her winter coat.
The drive was hidden there.
Good.
“What’s on it?” I asked quietly.
“Medication audits. Security logs. Patient transfers.”
“That doesn’t get people killed.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
She looked toward the scanner.
“I copied a surgery-room recording.”
Vince heard her.
His face went pale.
Mason turned toward him. “You said there wasn’t any recording.”
“There wasn’t supposed to be.”
The hooded gangster lowered his radio.
“Vince.”
Claire drew a shaky breath.
“The patient woke up during the procedure.”
No one spoke.
She continued, “He said a name.”
“Whose name?” I asked.
Her eyes moved to mine.
Before she could answer, a small chime sounded from beneath the rear camera housing.
A memory card dropped from the ceiling panel, bounced off a yellow rail, and landed on a passenger’s coat.
The camera had made a local emergency backup.
The teenage passenger holding the card looked at me.
Then at Vince.
May you like
Vince lunged toward him.
📖 Find out whether Noah can save the bus recording before Vince reaches the terrified teenager holding the only surviving camera copy in CHAPTER 6. 👇
