Gavin stopped at the corner of Pickard Street and East Franklin and looked uptown before he stepped out into the street to cross. He took the step into the street and stopped. There, driving through the stop light in front of the Imperial Post Office, was a black bus. A Trailways, with the front windshield tinted a light-absorbing dark grey. The bumper was black; the front grillwork was black; the wheels and hubcaps were black. The entire bus was black, a dull matte black. The passenger windows weren’t tinted: they were completely covered with black paint. Behind that bus, two more.
Gavin stepped backwards away from the street, away from the sidewalk, until he was behind a tree on Pickard. He could see cars waiting at the light, now green, not daring to drive beside the buses, or even in
