Fiction: Premonitions & Happenstances

This is sort of connected to The Soul Guardian story (part 1, part 2, part 3).

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Fiction: Premonitions & Happenstances
~ January 2025 ~

Penelope Grace stands in the middle of the road as a bus careens toward her while a light drizzle falls. The bus screeches to a halt and Penelope walks around to the side and bangs on the bus door. "Open up!" she shouts. The door swings open. "What do you want?" says the driver.
    Penelope steps inside the bus and leans a little toward the driver. She glances down at his uniform with his name sewn into the pocket and back up to his face. "Mr. Quincy, you must not take the bus onto the bridge. It is unsafe. Please, take the other route," says Penelope, her large green eyes meet his small brown ones.
    "How did you know my name? Never mind. See here, lady, if the bridge is unsafe, I would have been notified," he says.
    In Penelope's premonition, lightning strikes the bridge and causes it to collapse and the bus gets caught in the motion and drag down into the ocean. By the light of someone's phone, she had seen the horror-filled faces as they all drowned. Two hours ago, when she got out of the vision, she was sprawled on the floor of her tiny bedroom and shivering from being in the water even though she hadn't really been there.
    Penelope checks her wrist watch: 4:07. Lowering her voice, she says, "But Mr. Quincy, they won't know until it's too late. In twenty minutes, lightning will strike the bridge and it will collapse and take the bus, your bus, with it. Do you know what that means?"
    Quincy's eyes widens. He leans in close. His onion breath blows into her face. "Lady, I've been driving for fifteen years. I have never heard such nonsense. Now, get off the bus," he says.
    She turns away from him and steps farther in and faces the passengers. Among them are two elderly women wearing cocktail hats, identical twin boys about sixteen both with headphones around their necks, an old man with a haggard face, a twenty-something man wearing a Red Sox's baseball cap, one middle-age bald man, another middle-age man with a mop of black-gray hair and one young lady with thick, lopsided eyebrows. "Listen everyone! It's not safe to go on the bridge. Lightning will strike the bridge and it will collapse. If the bus is on the bridge, it will fall into the ocean. Please, you must get the driver to change routes or get off the bus," says Penelope and tries to smile. Nora, her foster mother, often said Penelope should smile as this assures people but Penelope isn't sure how.
    For a moment, the bus is silent. Then someone throws a book at her. It strikes her cheek before landing at her feet. She rubs at the spot. "What a weirdo," one of the boys mutters. A few people laugh. Penelope scoffs. Some days she is the weirdo and some days she is the savior.
    "Twenty minutes! Wait here for twenty minutes and then you'll see if I'm right. If not, then go on. Please, just stay for 20 minutes!" she shouts.
    "Get off the bus, you crazy bat!" shouts the middle-age bald man. The others add their curses and insults. Their angry glares make Penelope uneasy. Red Sox man is tight-lipped.
    "Please, just stay for 20 minutes or maybe 15 minutes! Stay for 15 minutes!" shouts Penelope.
    "Someone help me get her off the bus!" shouts Quincy. The bald man and the man with the mop of black-gray hair gets out of their seats and together, they grab Penelope's arms, lift her up and drop her out the door. She tries to steady herself and ends up dropping her left knee onto some gravel. When she looks up, the bus is moving away. She gets up to chase after it but the pain in her leg stops her. Anyhow, what is the use? She lifts up her coat's hood over her head and half limps toward the side of the road and sits down on the ground. Her left knee throbs. The cold wind and rain whips at her face. She wraps her arms around her legs and closes her eyes and swallows her tears. Tears are for leaving your sorrows behind you said Nora. At 4 am, she should have been at home, warm and asleep, not here on the side of the road, freezing. She should have convinced the taxi driver to wait for her after he dropped her off. She isn't even sure how she is going to get back home.  
    For a while, she sits there, not wanting to move. Something warm touches her shoulder. She opens her eyes and blinks in quick successions. A man in navy blue is squatting in front of her. His thin face is familiar and yet, she cannot place him. His lips curves into a subtle smile. "You've saved one," he says. He stands up and tucks his hands inside the pockets of his long, unbuttoned coat.
    She gets up and rubs her eyes but the man is gone. "You've saved one," he has said. She turns to look where the bus went. In the dark sky, white crooked lines strikes down. A loud bang follow by booming noises. Stone against stone? Vehicle against stone? She starts running toward the sound but collides with something. She falls backward onto the asphalt. Hands pull her up. "You were right," says Red Sox man with his wide eyes upon her. She starts to run but the man holds her back. "It's not safe!" he says. She looks past him.
    In the dimmed daylight, people in white appears one by one. Reapers. Penelope has seen them before but not so many at once. The reapers start disappearing with the souls. Tears sting her eyes. Tears are for leaving your sorrows behind you. She releases herself from Red Sox's hold and turns to go. No use in staying. Red Sox calls her to wait but she ignores him.
    Always, she knows she has the choice to do something or to do nothing of the premonitions she gets. Maybe she has a hero complex but Penelope wants to save people if she can. But people are prone not to listen to strangers, especially strangers sprouting impossible things. If only she can do something other than deliver a warning.
    If Nora is here, she would know what to do. If not for Nora's diligence, Penelope might not have survived. While in a coma for seven years, Penelope had almost died. Each time she was resuscitated and only after the seventh time did she wake up. She still have a small dent on the side of her skull.
    Nora had given her the name Penelope Grace. Penelope after Nora's great-grandmother, a suffragette and Grace to always remember to be gracious to everyone especially ourselves. Yes, Penelope must be gracious to herself. It isn't her fault people refused to listen to her nor that she is powerless against nature.
    Something warm touches her arm. She looks around but sees no one. She peers down at her navy blue biker boots. Earlier in the month, on the day of her 28th birthday, Penelope had wandered through the streets and had glanced at the boots through the shop windows and impulsively brought them. "Someday, I'll get a pair of boots like yours." She knows she has said that to someone but who? The man in navy blue? Yes! Mr. Blue! She knew him. Spent time with him and yet, how? If as a child, she wouldn't remember as those memories are gone but if after she was in a coma, it wouldn't be possible as she didn't wake up once in the seven years. And yet, she has spent time with the man. Followed him almost everywhere, seen all kinds of people and learned all kinds of things. Somehow she knows he is not quite alive.
    Temperatures has been dropping and another snow day is imminent. Penelope tucks her hands into her coat pockets and takes in a slow breath. In a few hours, she has to go to work. Looking up at the brighten sky through the rain, she smiles. She isn't alone. Mr. Blue has been with her. As she heads for the nearest food truck for breakfast, she wonders what dips to get with her hushpuppies.

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This week's Words for Wednesday prompts are: premonition, onion, temperature, seventh, weirdo. More Words for Wednesday over here.