Hell Difficulty Tutorial Chapter 1 – Boring commute

A soft yawn escaped my lips, cheek smooshed against the chilly bus window. A streetlamp's sudden glare blinded me briefly, compelling my eyes to shut. As the light dimmed, another yawn slipped free.

I shifted my gym bag around, twisting into a cozier spot and stealing a quick glance toward the front of the partly filled bus.

A boy on his feet mumbles something, sparking laughter from his buddies. One guy's chuckle stands out... it's pretty distinctive.

He keeps on laughing carefree.

Truth be told, it's starting to unsettle me a little.

What's up with that laugh anyway?

As I look away from their group, my eyes meet those of a girl my age, seated a few spots back from the rowdy crew. Irritation shows plainly on her features.

Our gazes hold for a second, followed by mutual nods.

In that instant, a timeless connection forms between us, bonded by shared frustration with the noisy kids yet too indolent to act on it.

My focus returns to the window, where a faint, almost invisible smile graces my reflection.

Not at all because I'm not alone in this misery.

No way.

Even with lids closed, streetlights pulse rhythmically through my eyelids as the bus rolls past. The engine's drone mixes with hushed talks, creating relaxing background noise that nudges me toward slumber.

Then, out of nowhere, pandemonium explodes.

Dazzling brilliance.

A plummeting feeling.

Horrified shrieks.

This glare dwarfs any streetlamp.

The drop feels like the bus lifted skyward then crashed back down.

Fear-trembled screams and stunned cries echo everywhere.

Crashing glass and twisting metal batter my ears. Eyes snap open, only to narrow against the fierce light.

Pupils widen in shock, adapting to the glare.

Sunlight?

How's that possible?

I stare out the window at the azure sky and sun emerging from cloud cover.

If questioned, I'd insist it looks like morning, or earliest afternoon tops. Yet moments ago, it was late afternoon.

"Let's calm down," the bus driver tries soothing the panicked riders. His words fall flat amid the ongoing yells.

While others leap up, I stay seated, peering outside. My eyes scan the heavens. Icy sweat beads down my spine as realization hits.

Wait, what?

The hell is this?

Hallucination? Dream maybe?

This can't be real, can it?

Something impossible like this shouldn't occur, yeah?

Eyes squeeze shut, then flutter open.

No difference.

Things just turned way more intriguing.

Since when do two suns hang in the sky?

Did I hit my head?

Prank? How'd anyone stage that? One sun lurks behind clouds, while the other—smaller, orangish—glows to the left in the sky.

And the buildings? The road? Gone.

Alright, stay calm.

Breathe slow and deep.

Like so.

Inhale, exhale.

Perfect…

I yank my phone from my pocket in haste—no signal bars at all.

Not a single one.

Now what to do?

Looking at fellow passengers, some already head out. Phones checked, but their expressions scream failure too.

Bag in hand, I step off the bus onto... grass. Yep, grass.

"What the fuck?" The voice pulls my head leftward; it's the irritated girl from earlier, jaw dropped at the second possible sun.

Club member now.

No returns.

Help needed, stat.

"Sophie." A sweet young girl clutches the irritated one's hand.

"...I'm sorry."

Scanning surroundings, my eyes settle on the bus driver still pacifying folks. Duty calls him, it seems. Roughly ten cluster near him.

School kids linger by the bus, probably classmates.

A handful of guys band together apart from the rest.

To my left, the girl and her tiny counterpart, plus two women close by.

Barking catches my ear; a corgi's head pokes from a lady's hold.

"I have no idea what happened!" the bus driver shouts. "I don't know where we are," he adds.

Poor fellow.

"Hey… hey!" A call from behind as I drift from the bus, phone signal-hunting.

It's her, the irritated girl, halting when I face her. I stay silent, letting her speak. At a loss, she blurts, "where are you going?" eyes darting nervously to the bus like it's her sole raft at sea.

"Just checking the signal," I display the screen before walking on. Brightness dialed way down too.

She seems out of words, so I keep going.

After roaming a bit—bus always visible—I quit and power off the phone. Save the juice.

Luckily, battery sits at about 80%, but better to let others burn theirs first.

Eyeing that second maybe-sun... yep.

Houston, problem confirmed.

A pint-sized orange issue.

If it's a sun, not so little—likely bigger than our world, moon, or wherever—but... I exhale, willing calm.

Pretend it's gone, maybe it disappears.

Wishful thinking works, right?