Time

There was a terrible accident last year. It was a tragedy that happened at my school. It was still fresh in everyone’s mind after all this time and today was the anniversary. Twenty three members of the entire class met a tragic end. It was just a routine class trip to the museum. It was raining that day but still the buzz of a free day was in everyone’s minds. Everyone got on the bus, our teacher took count and decided to buddy with the odd student and they were on their way. The museum was a town over and on a steep hill but it wasn’t so bad. The rains weren’t that bad. However, no one would predict how the day was going to end. As the bus driver went on his merry way, having been to the museum several times, it was a cinch to get from point A to point B. Even with the detour sign, he knew how to get to the museum. But what he didn’t plan on was seeing a baby stroller passing down the steep hill in front of the bus.

Instinctively, he slammed on the brakes, only to realize that they weren’t working and realizing immediately that he couldn’t stop the bus. He tried in vain to take control as the students inside were tossed to and fro. The hill path was muddy from previous night’s downpour and the bus spun out of control where it met finally made its unfortunate collision into a big rig coming up the hill. The two vehicles collided. That was how everyone was alerted to the accident, the explosion would be seen from above the hill and within minutes, emergency personnel were on the scene. There were no survivors. The funeral and memorial was held the following week. I gave the liturgy and held as the town’s hero. I was the only survivor of that class. I was the only who wasn’t on the bus. I was sick at home. Everyone called me the lucky one, saying that God was with me, that I was going to do great things someday, and how I was especially fortunate to be at the right place at the right time. Time…yes time really did play a role in all of this.

At five in the morning, I timed it just right to leave the house to make sure I got to school. The field trip bus was there. Right on time. I had a few minutes to go under the bus and cut the brake cables. After that was done, I had exactly one hour, forty five minutes, and seven seconds to rewire and make sure that the traffic lights worked to the bus driver’s advantage. It took me fifteen minutes to find a detour sign and placed it at the road to signal a new route for the bus driver. I knew there were several big rigs that went up that mountain at every half hour. And I timed it just right for them to come down the narrow road as well. Finally, with ten extra minutes, I found a baby stroller and brought it to the top of the hill. I then waited, letting it titter over the edge of the slippery hill. All I had to do was tip the stroller down the hill; nature and routine did the rest for me.

As I walked down the halls, I looked at the memorial of my first victims. This was the only trinket I needed from them. I wouldn’t be like other serial killers when I grew up, I would never be sloppy enough to get caught. With perfect timing, anything was possible.