Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror

by Jordan Peele

By custom, Pat took the window seat. She had been a carefree college student before CORE, but now she felt like a soldier, surveying everything around her. Instead of mobs, she spotted only office buildings, shops, and early-morning drivers. The cracked-open window helped save her from the bus’s odor of cigarettes and sweat (plus the hint of urine near the bathroom). Maybe Priscilla couldn’t smell it…but Pat could. As the bus rolled out of the station, Pat took her sister’s hand. Fatigue rocked her with the bus’s motion. She’d been so excited about the last-minute trip that she’d barely slept two or three hours. She’d hastily thrown a few clothes into the powder blue suitcase she’d nestled in the bin above her. “Bet you’ll be the first one asleep,” Priscilla said. “You always are. And you snore.” “You always say that, and you’re dead wrong every time.” Priscilla fell asleep first, her head lolling against Pat’s shoulder, her breath escaping in faint whistles. Pat was smiling to herself only moments before she felt her own head bobbing, and soon she was resting her cheek against Priscilla’s warm scalp, drowsy. It might be safe to sleep as long as no other passengers were on board who might rob or menace them. But as the bus stopped at the red light on Monroe, where morning traffic was just waking, Pat sat up straight with a thought as certain as any she’d ever had: Something will go badly wrong on this trip. She gasped so loudly that Priscilla stirred, although she didn’t w...