Free The Wrong Bus by Lois Peterson Page B

door. He pushed the door open and stepped aside. “After you,” he said to Jack.

Chapter Four
    The ward was dark and quiet. A door to the bathroom was open. But no one was inside.
    One bed was empty and covered by a flat white sheet. The curtains were closed around the other bed. When Grandpa slid them open, the hooks rattled.
    A man lay in the bed with his eyes closed. A blanket was pulled up to his neck.
    â€œThis was my bed,” said Grandpa. Jack stared at the man. He looked at his grandfather.
    â€œWhen your ma visited, I was a scary sight,” said Grandpa. “Hooked up to all kinds of gizmos. Bells and whistles. Tubes here and there.”

    Jack held Grandpa Nod’s hand. “Did it hurt?” he asked.
    â€œA bit. Nothing I couldn’t bear.” Grandpa grinned. “The nurses were mighty nice,” he said. A big man in a white jacket came into the room. A stethoscope hung around his neck. He twiddled with the machine above the sleeping patient’s bed and went out again. “Even the big ugly ones like Ralph,” said Grandpa.
    â€œWho’s Ralph?” asked Jack.
    â€œThat was Ralph,” said Grandpa.
    â€œWhy did you die?” asked Jack. “Couldn’t they fix you?”
    â€œToo many bits were all worn out. Any minute they would start falling off.” Grandpa patted the corner of the empty bed. “They did what they could. And I am much better now.”
    Jack looked across at the sleeping man. Maybe he had a grandson too. Maybe one who was younger than eight but was allowed to come and visit.
    Jack walked around the room. He checked out the cards on the bedside table. He sniffed the limp flowers in the jug.
    He stood over the man and watched him sleep.
    Footsteps passed in the hall. Voices rose and fell. No one came in.
    Grandpa Nod stood at the end of the man’s bed, waiting for Jack to finish checking things out.
    When Jack had finished his tour of the room, Grandpa Nod asked, “Seen enough?”
    â€œYes,” said Jack. He took his grandfather’s hand. It was cool and soft.
    They walked back to the elevators. A nurse hurried toward them. Jack stepped aside so she wouldn’t run into him. She walked past and kept going as if they weren’t there.
    They boarded the public elevator. A man studied a clipboard. A lady in a terry-towel housecoat and flip-flop slippers rode down with them. No one said a word.
    Back at the bus, Jack checked the windshield. No parking ticket. “Don’t you have to get back to your route?” he asked Grandpa.
    â€œNot us. Places to go. People to see,” he said. He drove through the intersection without stopping at the Stop sign.

Chapter Five
    Grandpa ran through three red lights and another Stop sign. He drove the wrong way up two one-way streets.
    He ignored all the bus stops with people waiting in long lines.
    No one honked at him. No police cars chased after them.
    He pulled into a reserved parking spot at the Restful Haven Funeral Home. “Wanna come looky-look, Juicy Fruit?” he asked.
    Jack walked past a long black limousine. Two ladies held on to each other’s arms. Two men eased a casket into the back of the car.
    Indoors, the lobby was shadowy and cool. Soft music played. A vase of flowers stood on a table. The scent filled the room like all kinds of mixed-up candy.
    A man with a bald head and a dark suit ignored Jack and Grandpa as they walked toward the doors that said Visitors Please Use Chapel Entrance .
    They entered a room filled with caskets. Some had half the lid wide open. Others were closed with little shiny plaques on top.
    Jack stood close to his grandpa, holding his hand. He looked around. The lights were dim. A thick blue carpet covered the floor. Their footsteps did not make a sound as Jack’s grandpa led him around the room.
    â€œWhich would you choose?” Grandpa asked.
    One was shiny black all over, with silver studs along the edge