He was reinforcing a weak section of fence when he heard it: a truck, maybe a bus. He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do.
By the time he got out the front door it was already past, moving away, faster than the posted speed limit had been when those things still mattered. He ran to the gate, threw it open, yelling, waving his arms, desperate.
A white church bus, with extra metal sheeting welded on the sides and rear. It didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. They hadn’t seen or heard him. They probably didn’t bother looking back.
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