A Shrine to an Unknown God

STRANGE LAND

I'M IMMEDIATELY jerked awake. The bus is moving, propelled forward by an unseen force, faster than what any horse could muster. And besides, I didn't see any horses, though even the gods' chariots require horses to pull them.

Unless, now here's a possibility: they're underneath the bus.

I look over my shoulder to Marisol for an explanation. She's still braiding my hair, her lips pursed the slightest bit. She seems unconcerned by what's happening.

"Stay still," she says. "Keep your head forwards like it was."

I return my head to its original position. "What is this thing?"

"A bus," she explains, as if that's supposed to make me understand.

"Yes, but, how is it—how is it moving?"

"Fuel?"

"What kind of fuel?"

"Gas. Oil. I dunno."

"How does that work? Is it some kind of animal?"

"Antigone, look." Marisol ties off my braid with a small black band. "There are things in this world that you're not going to completely understand. I don't know how gas makes a bus move, I just know that it does. Did you know everything about your world?"

"No. But that didn't stop me from seeking answers. Who can I talk to to find out more about this mysterious bus? What gods do I need to pray to? What sacrifices need to be made?"

"I don't know." Marisol admits. "I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap." She closes her eyes, leaning her head onto Dahlia's shoulder.

I will find out on my own, I decide. Whether Marisol knows or wants to help me or not. I will seek help from the divinities of this strange land: the bus driver.