The massive wheels of the Jetbus 3+ Voyager tour buses began to roll slowly, crushing the hot asphalt of Sukabumi streets. The roar of the 400-horsepower diesel engines sounded like the purring of giants lulling their passengers to sleep. From behind the dark 80% tinted glass, Rajawali High slowly shrunk, distanced, until finally disappearing behind a bend, leaving only memories of flag ceremonies and recess bells they wouldn't hear again anytime soon.
Inside Bus 3, the atmosphere was strange.
Normally, a bus filled with 40 high school teenagers going on a vacation to a private island would be filled with singing, out-of-tune acoustic guitars, or at least rowdy shouts fighting over snacks. However, Bus 3 was silent. The silence felt heavy, thick, and unnatural. Almost 90% of the passengers were asleep with heads slumped limply against seat rests, mouths slightly open, or leaning against the vibrating windows.
The "Adaptation Vaccine" effect worked faster and stronger than anyone anticipated.
Salim sat in seat 9A, next to his backpack which he hugged tightly as if it were a buoy in the middle of the ocean. His eyes felt like lead weights were hanging from them. His eyelids blinked slowly, fighting gravity. Every time he tried to focus on the road outside, the scenery appeared with motion blur, as if his eyes' frame rate had dropped drastically.
"Cold..." Salim whispered softly, tightening his denim jacket.
The bus AC was set to an extreme 16 degrees Celsius. Not for comfort, but—as Alya suspected—to lower the "assets'" body metabolism so the sedative would work maximally.
"Oy... Lim..."
A hoarse voice came from seat 8B, right in front of Salim. A hand extended backward, holding an opened bag of potato chips.
It was Dani. Of course, it was Dani.
Even when his consciousness was perhaps only 30% remaining, Dani Hermawan refused to be silent. He was an anomaly fighting the system in the most ridiculous way: by keeping the noise up.
"Want... chips? Seaweed flavor..." Dani offered, his head popping up from behind the seat. His face was pale, eyes red like a drunkard, but his signature grin was still plastered there. "Crazy... the drug kicks hard, Lim. I feel like I'm flying... Even though I've never sniffed glue."
Salim shook his head weakly. "Keep it, Dan. My stomach is nauseous."
"Lame," Dani chuckled, then shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, chewing slowly. "Eh, Ki... Rizki... you still alive there?"
Dani turned to his side. Rizki sat in seat 8A with eyes closed, arms crossed on his chest. He looked calm, like meditating, but cold sweat soaked his temples.
"Shut up, Dan," Rizki muttered without opening his eyes. "My head is spinning. When you chew, it sounds like thunder in my ears."
"So sensitive, Young Master," Dani sneered.
In the seats across the aisle (8C and 8D), sat Toto and Abdul from Group 17 (Rizki and Dani's group). Toto, the school thug, wasn't sleeping. He sat with legs propped up on the front seat backrest, glaring sharply at Dani. The drug's effect made Toto's already bad temper even more unstable.
"Can you shut up, Fridge?" Toto growled, his voice heavy and threatening. "Your yapping makes me want to puke. One more time you offer chips, I'll stuff the wrapper down your throat."
Dani swallowed hard, his guts shrinking a bit, but the remnants of liquid courage from the drug made him answer carelessly. "Chill, Boss Toto. We're team building. Gotta be friendly. Want a massage?"
"Bastard," Toto cursed, about to stand up to hit Dani, but his body swayed. His balance was gone. He fell back into his seat hard. "Damn it... why is my body so weak..."
Salim watched the scene from the gap between seats. Even Toto, physically as strong as a bull, was taken down by that clear liquid. This wasn't a vaccine. This was chemical restraint.
In the back row (row 10), other members of Group 27 were also struggling.
Salma sat upright, holding her personal tablet, trying to read the safety guide PDF. But her finger just swiped the same page repeatedly for the last ten minutes. Her focus was shattered.
Udin, sitting beside Salma (since Alya moved next to Rehan to monitor his condition), kept hitting his own thigh.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
"Stay awake... stay awake..." Udin chanted softly. He knew, as the group's physical defense, he couldn't let his guard down. But his eyes were barely slits.
Rehan? He was offline. His head rested on Alya's shoulder, snoring softly. Alya let him be, while her left hand kept holding Rehan's wrist, monitoring his pulse periodically.
"Pulse 60. Stable but slow," Alya whispered to herself.
The bus kept moving.
An hour passed. They entered the Jagorawi toll road. The view of Jakarta's skyscrapers began to appear in the distance, but the bus didn't take the exit toward Soekarno-Hatta Airport.
The bus took the outer ring road, heading toward the industrial port in the far north.
Salim forced his eyes open. He looked forward, through the wide front windshield. In front of Bus 3, there were Bus 2 and Bus 1.
Bus 1 was the special bus for teachers and staff. It looked different. The glass was darker, and there was no significant shaking.
The teachers... Salim thought. They definitely weren't injected with the same drug.
Suddenly, the bus convoy slowed down. They turned into a Rest Area at KM 97.
However, this wasn't a typical Rest Area filled with famous coffee chains and 24-hour minimarkets. This was a Type B Rest Area currently under renovation—or intentionally emptied. A large "CLOSED" sign blocked the entrance for public vehicles, but the Rajawali bus convoy breezed past the barricade opened by officers in black suits.
The bus stopped. The hiss of air brakes sounded loud in the quiet place.
"20-minute break! Lunch and toilet! No one is allowed to stray from the parking area!" ordered the bus coordinator, a stiff-faced man standing at the front near the driver.
The bus doors opened.
Students got off with sluggish steps, like a line of zombies in a horror movie. Their feet dragged, eyes squinting against the scorching midday sun.
Salim got off helped by Udin. His legs felt like jelly.
"Crazy... I can't feel my big toe," complained Dani walking beside them, nearly crashing into a lamp post.
They were herded into a large tent in the middle of the arid parking lot. There, stacks of styrofoam lunch boxes were prepared. No fancy buffet. No menu choices.
"Eat. Must finish," the officer ordered.
Salim opened his lunch box. Contents: White rice, a piece of pale boiled chicken breast without seasoning, boiled vegetables, and a bottle of unlabelled mineral water.
"This is prison food," commented Toto sitting at the next table, slamming his plastic spoon. "Where's the beef rendang? Where's the curry? They said five-star facilities!"
"Just eat, To. Protein," Rizki said softly, starting to shovel the tasteless rice into his mouth. Rizki knew protesting was useless when their bodies were this weak.
Salim tried to eat. It tasted bland. Truly bland. His tongue felt numb.
"My tongue is numb," Salim told Alya sitting in front of him. "I can't taste salt or sweet."
Alya nodded, face serious. "Mild neurotoxin effect. The drug temporarily blocks taste nerve receptors. Maybe so we don't pick at food and just focus on refueling energy."
"Or so we don't realize this food is laced with extra sleeping pills," Rehan chimed in suddenly. He was awake, eyes red and swollen. He took out his Portable Jammer from his pocket, hiding it under the table.
"Status, Han?" Salim asked in a whisper.
Rehan shook his head slowly. "Nil. GSM signal is totally dead in a 1-kilometer radius. This Rest Area is in a blind spot or they installed a giant jammer on that tower." Rehan glanced at a telecommunication tower at the edge of the area that looked inactive.
"We are isolated," Salma concluded. "From now on, we only have each other."
While they struggled to eat, Salim looked toward Bus 1—the teacher's bus. The bus door was open, but no teachers came down to eat with the students. Several neatly dressed waiters were seen boarding the bus carrying trays of fancy restaurant food—steaks, fresh juice, cut fruits.
The contrast was painful.
"They're partying in there," Dani growled, seeing a tray of ice cream being carried into Bus 1. "While we eat rubber-tire flavored boiled chicken."
"That's hierarchy, Dan," Salim said coldly. "We aren't guests. We are commodities."
Suddenly, a long whistle blew.
"Time's up! Back to the bus! Now!"
The students, most of whom hadn't even finished half their portions due to nausea, were forced to stand and herded back into the bus.
As Salim climbed the bus stairs, he looked back. He saw the toll road stretching out. Jakarta direction south, port direction north.
They were getting further from home.
Inside the bus, the effect of the food began to work. Drowsiness far heavier than before attacked. This time, no one could fight it.
Dani, who was still trying to joke earlier, had now collapsed. His head leaned against the window, mouth open, snoring loudly. Rizki fell asleep sitting upright, extremely uncomfortable. Toto fell asleep hugging his bag, his fierce face gone, replaced by an innocent face like a big baby.
Salim tried to hold on. He pinched his own arm until it bruised.
Don't sleep. Don't sleep. Must know the route.
But his eyelids were as heavy as concrete.
"Lim..." Maya's voice was heard from the front seat (Salim apparently saw wrong, Maya was in the front seat of the same bus due to random seating rotation upon re-boarding, or maybe it was Salim's hallucination).
No. It wasn't Maya. It was Alya sitting in front of him.
"Just sleep, Lim," Alya whispered, her voice sounding distant, like from inside a tunnel. "Fighting this dose of sedative will only cause brain damage. Let your body rest."
Salim looked at Alya. The girl was also half-conscious. Her eyes were droopy.
"Maya's promise..." Salim mumbled incoherently. "I have to... calculate..."
Salim's vision went dark.
The last thing he saw before his consciousness fully extinguished was the view outside the window. They were no longer on the toll road. The bus was driving on a dusty dirt road, passing through a giant iron gate guarded by men with long-barrel rifles.
In the distance, the gray open sea was visible, and an old rusty cargo ship was waiting at a desolate dock. The ship had no name. Only a hull number: P-27.
"P-27..." Salim thought. "Group 27..."
And everything went black.
No dreams. No sounds. Only absolute darkness wrapping the 200 young souls, carrying them across the ocean toward a fate written in blood ink.