His mates laughed as he closed the burger box and threw it onto the floor.
“Clucky’s has gone downhill big time. The other day, I swear bro, my fries came with rat droppings.” Leon shook his head while wrinkling his nose. “Nah, man. Gonna avoid Clucky’s from now on. Thought you knew.”
“Oh? Well, I ain’t relying on you for food tips in future. This is my stop. See ya.” Troy pressed the bell twice, pushed past his mates’ legs as they tried to bar his exit, and navigated his way to the front of the bus.
The bus driver slowed to a stop and opened the door, grunting at Troy’s thanks. The familiar street embraced Troy, sucking his warmth with each gust. He zipped up his hoodie and that’s when he realized he’d fucked up. He plunged his hands into his pockets and rooted around, but the effort was in vain. His phone was missing.
He groaned as he glanced at the double decker’s backside. Even from far away, underneath dirt and grime, he could spot a stupid advert smiling about a herbal remedy as the bus retreated.
With his phone missing, he couldn’t keep sweet-talking a new girl he met at the club last weekend and he couldn’t go to work the next day. It had all of his contacts from his apprenticeship and he’d only started full-time hours last month. His probation was hanging by a thread.
Troy ran home and after a long argument, he got hold of his brother’s iPhone. He DM’d his mates via his social media account, but no one had seen it. After returning the iPhone, he asked for a lift, which led to another argument. His brother eventually caved and drove him to the town.
It was late, but Troy knew his usual bus operated until midnight. He explained the situation to a dozing staff member, who didn’t care, but Troy remained steadfast. He wasn’t leaving.
“Look, the driver was a big guy. He had a beard. Oh, and he had a tattoo on his neck. It was a bird, I think.”
“That’s Clarice. She’s new, so she may give you time of day.”
The staff member dialled, as Troy inwardly cringed. He is a she, he thought while hoping the staff member wouldn’t tell Clarice about him fucking up her gender. He needed to be in her good books.
Clarice was just as Troy described her. Her beard was short and trimmed and her tattoo depicted a dove carrying an olive branch. She eyed him until recognition sparked, then told him she hadn’t checked her bus.
“I’m on break for another fifteen minutes.” Clarice glanced at her watch and then stroked her beard. “Need my smoke before my last run, but you’re welcome to look around the bus yourself.”
Troy beamed, and the pair headed to the depot. He was thankful that Clarice understood and sympathised with his situation.
Troy had never been to the depot before and he took a minute to stare at all the empty silent buses waiting to be called to duty. At nighttime, it was like a graveyard.
They walked in mutually agreed silence, and after a few minutes Clarice stopped and pointed to the bus. “This is it. I’ll wait outside and have my smoke. Good luck.” She pushed a button and the doors opened, gliding and sweeping aside.
Troy thanked her and raced to the upper deck. He searched the seat where he had messed around with Leon and the others, to no avail. He looked underneath, grimacing at the dirt, chewing gum, and stickiness collected over years of spillage and littering. There was no phone.
Row by row, Troy searched the double decker, bypassing leftover food, drinks, packaging, empty vapes, and squished cigarettes. His hope grew dimmer.
Eat me.
Troy paused, certain his ears were playing tricks. Had Clarice come inside to help? He wandered over to the front window, which had fogged up, and wiped it with his sleeve. Though darkness nearly blinded him, he spotted the tiny glow of Clarice’s cigarette.
Eat me.
Troy turned. The gritty voice had gained volume, crescendoing to a bellow from the back row. But Troy saw nobody there, no dark figure as he expected. He inched closer to the top of the staircase, scanning as he went, when something on the middle back seat caught his attention. His mother would warn him when he was younger to never sit in the middle back seat, for fear of the driver braking hard and sending him flying. To this day, Troy still thought of it as a death trap. But he couldn’t leave without investigating, and his eyes narrowed on the object.

A burger box lay forgotten with its white and yellow lid closed.
Troy blinked. It looked like his, the one he’d spat into, but loads of people ate Clucky’s, especially on the bus so it could’ve been anyone’s. He was certain he had tossed his Clucky’s burger onto the floor. What had he done with the box? He was also certain the box hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier when he was searching for his phone. Was somebody pranking him?
The burger box opened. The lid lifted, and the voice boomed.
Eat me.
Inside was the chicken burger he had taken a bite of and spat out. It was unmistakably his, with one bite missing and the half-chewed mess next to it. The bread had turned blue, the lettuce had curled to black, and the meat was now infested. Maggots wiggled, squirming out of the chicken and spilling down the sides of the burger.
Nausea caught in Troy’s throat. He swallowed and stilled. His brain couldn’t keep up to what he was seeing.
The burger was watching him with eyes set amongst the bun’s sesame seeds, bloodshot and laser-focused on Troy. A rotting stench reached him, as pungent as what he imagined the burger would taste like. An acidic burn singed Tory’s nostrils. He retched.
You ordered me. You will eat me. Fulfil your promise.
The burger jumped, box and all.
Troy scuttled backwards and tripped over his feet.
The burger bounced closer, maggots flying off with each jump.
No way would Troy munch on that.
He crawled to the staircase, and without bothering to find his feet, he launched down the steps, huffing and puffing. He tumbled down on his front with his chest taking most of the beating, but he didn’t care. Sweat poured down his back and face. He knew he was spiralling. Every thought was screaming that if he could just reach the lower deck, he would be safe.
But when he reached the bottom, he smelled the rotting stench drifting down the stairs. It was coming for him.
He raced to the front of the bus where he discovered the doors closed. It’s okay, he thought. There’s an emergency button somewhere. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and scanned the door frame. All buses have an emergency button for the public in case of a fire, he reasoned to himself, and this is an emergency. He licked his dry lips as he searched.
In the air, the rotting stench thickened, scorching his nose. Out of sheer self-defense, he began to breathe through his mouth.
If you don’t fulfil your promise, then I will eat you.
Panic seized him. There was no button. He needed to escape. The doors had to open. He slammed into them, punching, kicking, yelling as loudly as he could. Where was Clarice? Wasn’t she nearby smoking?
Something soggy wrapped around his ankle. Troy screamed and glanced down, eyes wide. The lettuce from the burger had latched onto him, and for a second, Troy wanted to laugh at himself. Why had he been so terrified? There was no way this small-sized takeaway could hurt him. It was disgusting having any contact with it. Maggots spread across his left leg, but all he had to do was bat them away.
I am an idiot, he thought with a chuckle, but before he could lean over to brush the maggots aside, the burger grew. The lettuce coiled up his leg and down to his foot. Blowing up to twice its size, the burger opened and clamped down on his calf. Pain exploded from Troy’s leg, and he toppled over onto his back.
The burger continued to enlarge, gnawing on his leg like a dog with a bone. His leg bone. Troy’s heart raced. His chest clenched.
As the burger devoured him, working its way up his leg and—oh, God, to his groin—it grew fatter.
No one could hear his screams and no one would save him.
***
Five buses away, Clarice finished her sixth cigarette and glanced at her watch. It had to be over. She’d waited long enough.
Sighing, she headed back, punched the door button, and examined the interior. Everything was pristine, cleaned from top to bottom, with a faint whiff of soap left behind.
Clarice nodded. There would be no evidence. She didn’t need to check upstairs, but she did so for comfort of mind.
The chewing gum, the leftover food, abandoned soda cans, and even the graffiti had vanished. It was like a new bus.
“Waste not, want not,” Clarice whispered before returning to her driving seat. She had one last route to do before she could call it a night.