The Bus Missing for 6 Years Suddenly Appears on the Highway: When the Door Opens, Everyone Is Stunned…- Part 1

Hero, is there a problem with this bus? Nam’s voice trembled over the walkie-talkie, in the middle of the quiet highway night. Hung exchanged a few annoyed glances, what’s the problem? It’s just an abandoned tourist bus. But the other end of the line was silent, then Nam softly said, “Heavy breathing, you should come and take a look. I’ve opened the door, but it’s not okay inside.

I think we should seal off the scene immediately.” Hung immediately stepped on the gas, and just a few minutes later, he was there. The rusty bus door opened slightly, he stepped in, and the flashlight in his hand shook and fell to the ground. Before his eyes was a scene that he had never witnessed in his 18 years of patrolling.

Hello everyone, welcome to Stories. This is a story that happened at dawn on November 15, 2024 at 2:37 on the Dong Minh Expressway through Sizuoka Prefecture, a pitch-black night and an abandoned bus where a terrifying secret was gradually revealed. I have been in the highway patrol for 18 years, experienced all kinds of situations, every night, after midnight the road is deserted.

The night is as thick as ink, only the headlights of our car shine an endless streak of light. Others may find it boring, but to me, it is like a part of life, an indispensable familiar rhythm. Yet there are nights when just one strange detail is enough to make me feel cold, no matter how thick my coat is, it cannot cover it.

That night, around 2:00 a.m., Nam, the young lieutenant on the same shift, called me over the radio. His voice was a little shaky, unlike usual. Minh, there’s a bus parked on the side of the road ahead. I find it strange. I frowned and wondered why I was shaking. There’s nothing wrong with buses, I’ve seen them many times. Drunk passengers throwing up, broken buses, emergency drivers, all sorts of things.

I pressed reply, trying to sound firm, “What’s so strange about buses? Are there people inside?” Nam was silent for a few seconds before answering, “Not sure. The windows were blurry, I couldn’t see anything, but the car was very old, the paint was faded, it looked like a piece of junk. The way Nam described it made my heart beat faster than usual. Because at that time, the long-distance buses had long since finished their trips.

On this highway, it was even rare for a bus to stop. I looked at my watch, it was exactly 2:37, a time when hardly anyone else drove through this section. I accelerated, thinking about the possibility of an accident and feeling a little annoyed because Nam was always worried, but honestly, a part of me also felt creepy.

Only about 5 minutes later, I saw the silhouette of the bus appear under the dim moonlight. It was standing still neatly on the side of the road, the wheels were close to the road, and behind it was a triangular warning sign placed properly. Everything was too standard. And it was that standard that made me shiver.

Old car, faded, stripes The green was already patchy, yet someone was still careful enough to place the sign. I stopped the patrol car, took out a flashlight, and walked around to the back to check the license plate. A thick layer of mud covered most of the number, as if someone had deliberately hidden it. I used a wet towel to wipe it carefully, and each line and stroke of the number appeared clearly. 83B 8956. I took out my phone and entered the license plate into the lookup system. While the engine was running, I stood there smoking a cigarette, my eyes never leaving the car.

It was big, old, and dark like a lifeless shadow, with no lights, no engine sound, and no sign of anyone being inside. Nam walked around and called me, “Anh Minh, the tires are still wet with mud, and there are some scratches on the side of the car as if it had just brushed against a tree branch. I went closer to look, and sure enough, the scratches were fresh, not rusted, and the mud still had grass fibers stuck to it.
(4:07) This car had clearly just run through some muddy place, not something abandoned for many years. So why was it here on the highway in the middle of the night? My phone rang, the search results appeared. I looked at it and glanced at myself. This car belonged to a transport company in another province, but the records stopped 6 years ago. The last inspection was in May 2018.
(4:34) According to the law, it had been deregistered for a long time. It should not be able to legally roll on the road anymore, the screen also displayed an additional red line. Abnormal status. I immediately called Nam back to show him. Nam also swallowed his saliva in surprise. How come the car is no longer in the system but still running? I shook my head without an answer. We approached the front door.
(4:59) Manual folding doors are rare now. I knocked hard but there was no response. I shone the light inside but the glass was covered in mist and I couldn’t see clearly. I tried knocking harder and listening. Inside was dead silent. No human voices, not even the sound of the cooling engine or electricity running. Nam whispered, Minh, or call for rescue to come and take us away. (5:25) I considered, but then shook my head, if there was someone in an accident and I ignored them, the consequences would be worse. I told Nam to get the emergency kit in the car, he was a bit scared but also understood the situation so he quickly went to get it. I took one last drag of my cigarette and put it out, telling myself, whatever is in
I have to face it too. Nam brought out a crowbar and struggled to pry into the crack of the door.
(5:48) I stood next to the flashlight, both nervous and alert. The hinge made a click and the door slowly opened. At that moment, a stream of smell rushed straight into my nose. It was not the smell of a corpse like I had smelled before, nor was it exactly the smell of rotting flesh. It was pungent like the smell of disinfectant mixed with the smell of old mold, the smell of an old hospital. I was a little dizzy but still stepped one foot up the steps.
(6:13) The flashlight beam swept across the row of seats and my heart stopped for a few seconds. All the seats from the first row to the last row, each seat had a white envelope placed neatly, not a single one was out of place, there was no empty seat. A total of 48 envelopes lit up in the darkness as if looking back at us. I suddenly dropped the flashlight.
(6:35) It hit the floor with a clang, my throat choked, my hands shaking. Nam stood behind and exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is this?” I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know either, I only knew that from that moment, I was sure of one thing, tonight we had encountered something that was no longer normal. It took us quite a while to dare to step into the car.
(6:59) I walked slowly, the flashlight flickering across the row of seats, the feeling was very difficult, like I was entering a place that did not belong to this world. The white envelopes were lined up in a straight line, not a single angle off, as if some hand had arranged them very meticulously, on the surface of each envelope there was writing. When I looked more closely, I saw that it was a person’s name, in blue ink, neat and clear.
(7:23) The first row on the left was Tuan, on the right was Thu Huong, down the row there were two other names. All were normal names with nothing special, but placed in this scene, it made people shiver. Nam stood beside him, his voice faltering. Brother Minh, who are these people? Why are their names on the envelopes? I shook my head, not knowing how to respond. We immediately called the center.
(7:55) Only about an hour later, a whole investigation team from the city was dispatched. The commander was Inspector Hung, a man in his 50s, experienced, famous for being strict and careful. As soon as he heard my preliminary report, his face darkened, he didn’t say anything more, only ordered the scene to be sealed off, no one was allowed to touch anything in the bus until the technical team arrived.
(8:19) That night, the bus turned into a crime scene, lights flashing, cameras taking pictures continuously, technicians wearing white gloves were careful with every detail. The scene really made me feel small. Hung got on the bus, looked over it, and said in a low voice, 48 envelopes, one for each seat, not too many or too many. Please take note of the location of each envelope, don’t mix it up.
(8:45) Each envelope was numbered and put into an evidence bag. I watched with excitement, as if waiting for the results of a life-or-death surgery. Afterwards, everything was transferred to the headquarters for appraisal. The next morning, we had an urgent meeting in the main room. On the neatly arranged board were 48 envelopes with labels. Inspector Hung sat in the middle, his eyes solemn.
(9:09) He reached out to choose the first envelope with Anh Tuan’s name on it. A young appraiser wearing gloves used a knife to carefully open the edge. The room was dead silent, two things fell out from inside, a photo and a folded piece of paper. The photo was a portrait of a man about 30 years old wearing a white shirt, taken somewhere unknown. It was clearly not an old photo, the quality was very new.
(9:33) The piece of paper opened, the blue ink writing was neat. I knew it was time to run out. Thank you for everything. I wanted to go home. The room fell silent, I felt a chill run down my spine. Hung tapped his hand on the table, his voice heavy. Next, envelope number two, named Thu Huong.
(9:55) Inside was also a photo, this time of a young woman in her 20s, wearing a floral dress, the note read, “Thank you for the special time, I want to go home.” The appraiser’s voice paused slightly at the last word, each envelope was opened, each photo, each piece of paper was placed, most of them had the same content, words of thanks and a wish to go home. But the more he looked, the heavier the atmosphere became.
(10:18) Because going home in this situation, everyone understood it was not simply about going home. At the tenth envelope, appraiser Lam, the person in charge of handwriting, spoke up. Dear brothers, there is something strange, it looks like the same handwriting but if you look closely, the pressure and the shaking of the hand are different, some are smooth, some are like children writing.
(10:43) He pointed to a piece of paper and explained, for example, the word len here has a thin, slightly shaky stroke, like someone not used to writing with a fountain pen, while on another piece of paper, the hand shakes very skillfully, the whole room started to stir. What does that mean? Maybe the people in the photo wrote their own messages and then the envelope named Lan.
(11:06) The girl is about 16 or 17 years old in the photo, the paper inside is completely different from the previous ones. I don’t want to leave but they said I have to. I’m very scared. If anyone can read it, please save us. The writing stopped halfway and was torn off. I heard it and goosebumps appeared all over my body, no longer a mon