The SCP Experience - You Never Get Off the Bus | SCP-342

Episode Date: May 29, 2026

A mysterious ticket leads Simon Barker onto the 17A bus, where every stop becomes impossible to reach and every passenger seems to vanish, duplicate, or rot in front of him. As the ride twists his fear into violence, Simon realizes the destination was never the danger—the real horror is that SCP-342 may never let him off at all. Listen ad-free + bonus stories with a 7-day FREE trial of ⁠SCP Premium⁠. Cancel anytime. No commitment. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠⁠ Author: Hayley V. * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A chill ran down Simon Barker's spine as he settled into his seat on the 17A bus to who knew where. He wasn't in the habit of boarding buses with no destination, but today he needed something different. He needed spontaneity. And it was because he wanted to, not because his girlfriend broke up with him for being too boring. It felt like fate when the wind blew a ticket in his face during his morning walk. As he gripped the paper, a strange tug pulled him, and with a mere glance to check at validity, he veered away from his usual path heading to the bus station. The ticket looked to be for a train at first glance, but when he checked it before boarding, it transformed into a generic bus pass.

Simon felt good, if not a little unsettled. He didn't typically take the bus, preferring to walk or cycle everywhere he needed to go. He wasn't all too fond of people, and he did his best to avoid them. He lived a quiet, unassuming life, and he liked it that way. but today would be different. He took a deep breath and coughed from the cigarette smoke emanating from the man in front of him. Across the aisle, a woman opened her lunch bag and pulled out a tuna sandwich, the fishy smell overtaking the smoke. Simon ground his teeth together, but didn't say anything.

He turned instead to the window where the city bustled by. They passed restaurants with black and white striped awnings, bakeries with pastel lettering on the windows, and crisp, clean-looking jewelry stores. Outside, the sun shone, and all manner of people were out and about. An old lady struggled with her walker on the cracked sidewalk. Men and women passed her by, taking no notice. A young girl skipped ahead of her mother, who was uselessly calling her back.

A young couple strolled by hand in hand, and while the girl turned to look in the jewelry store window, the man took his fill of the curvy woman walking by. Simon shook his head and faced forward again. The seat in front of him was empty now. but he couldn't remember seeing the man leave. In fact, the bus hadn't stopped, yet the man was nowhere to be seen. Simon frowned. Maybe he simply hadn't been paying attention.

The bus slowed to a stop, and two teenage boys got on, sitting directly behind Simon. Both in baggy jeans and loose sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up, Simon glanced at them with distaste, but they were too preoccupied with their phones to notice. Unfortunately, the tuna sandwich woman continued. to happily chomp on her lunch. Simon grimaced and turned away just as the bus pulled back into the street. But what he saw on the sidewalk had him turning back to the tuna woman. His head swiveled back and forth between the woman across from him and the remarkably similar-looking woman heading down the street, also eating a sandwich. They both had dark hair and wore pale green coats

with the same big black bag. Even their shoes were the same. The one on the bus raised her eyebrows when she caught him staring, and he sank back into his seat with a sigh. Maybe there was a good reason he didn't take the bus. It seemed to mess with his mind. Simon suddenly felt stupid, thinking a bus ride would change his life. So what if he was predictable? So what if his family called him stable Simon? Wasn't it good to be stable?

The type of person others could always rely on? Sure, his life wasn't nearly as exciting as his traveling photographer brothers or his family-oriented sisters, but he was happy. He liked his life, and he didn't need a bus ride to prove anything to anybody. He was on his feet before he'd even realized he'd moved. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes since he first sat down, but he was done with this bus. A ding signaled the next stop,

and the driver spoke with a deep calm voice. "'Nover is your next stop. Your next stop is absolutely nowhere.' Certain he had misheard. Simon wound his way to the front, ready to leave this ridiculous experiment behind. But a commotion from near his seat turned his attention back just as the doors opened. Hey! The teenagers stood now, yelling at each other.

One brought his hands up, jabbing the other in the chest. What did you call my mom? Simon worked with teenagers. He knew how quickly this could get ugly. Boys! He shouted, shoving a backpack out of the way as it returned to the back. The bus suddenly jerked, sending Simon face with him. first into the aisle. He groaned as his knee struck the floor, but thankfully he saved his face

with his hands. When he looked up, the boys were gone. The bus was silent, save for the quiet chatter of the other passengers. Where could they have gone? If they'd gotten off, they would have had to step over him to get to the door, unless there was another door at the back that he somehow didn't know about. Simon shook his head and raised himself into the nearest seat. That must be it. There had to be another exit. He just didn't ride buses enough to know about it. Now he felt even stupider than earlier and looked back desperately toward the driver for where he'd stop next.

Simon needed fresh air and the open sky to reassure himself that he wasn't crazy. As soon as the bus slowed down again, he hurled himself down the aisle and towards the door. But he'd apparently chosen a popular stop as a rush of people barged up the stairs before he could get out. Excuse me, he said politely to the first man. a young father with a baby strapped to his chest.

The man ignored him, and he was forced to shuffle into a seat to let him pass. Excuse me, I'm trying to get off, he said louder this time. But either nobody heard or nobody cared. People continued streaming past him until the bus began moving again. Unbelievable, he muttered, sinking into another seat. What's that, Sonny? Simon startled at a voice behind him. He could have sworn that seat was empty,

but he turned to find a hunched old man in a black coat facing the window. The way he said Sonny reminded Simon of his grandfather, a man very much like himself in both looks and personality. He'd been gone for over 10 years now, but Simon still missed him. Maybe that's why he replied, rather than ignoring the man. I just can't believe how rude people are these days, he explained. I thought it was common courtesy to let people off the bus before getting on. Right you are, Sonny, came the man's gruff reply. Simon did a double-take. The man sounded exactly like his grandfather.

And when he looked at him, Simon nearly fell out of his seat. It was his grandfather. It couldn't be, yet it was. He had the same hair and eye color, the same slightly tilted nose, one ear bigger than the other, and even a mole on his wrinkled chin. What are you looking at? Simon blushed and looked away. Sorry, you just remind me a lot of my grandfather.

The man grunted, and Simon glanced at my. again. This time, he recoiled, falling into the aisle. The man's flesh suddenly peeled from his face. His eyes drooped almost out of their sockets, and when he smiled, his teeth were black and rotten rotten. It was like looking at the rotting corpse of his grandfather rather than the man he remembered. You okay, honey? A large black woman helped him up, her eyes roving over him with concern. I thought I saw. He gestured to the seat, but there was no one there. You don't look so good. Maybe you should go see a doctor. If I ever get off this damn bus, he whispered.

She pulled back in surprise, and he resisted the urge to apologize. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he should see a doctor. Or maybe it was this stupid bus driving him crazy. He had to get off. Now! The driver glanced at him with a frown when he got up to stand beside her. Excuse me, but I have to get off immediately. Her only response was to lift an eyebrow.

Did you hear me? I have to get off. His palms were sweating against the pole he gripped for support. Please lower your voice and sit down, sir. Are we nearly at the next stop? Sure, was her dull reply. Simon groaned in frustration. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at the place where his grandfather had sat. He took deep, calming breaths while keeping an eye out for the next bus stop.

But his heart wouldn't stop racing. At least he was ready this time. no distractions and no shoving would keep him from the door. He stared at the sign down the road, indicating the next stop, and lowered his feet to the top stair. But the bus didn't slow down. A few people were clearly waiting for it, but the driver didn't even look at them as she sped by. What the hell? Simon growled. His face suddenly inches from hers.

She smelled like meat and cheese, and a drop of mustard had fallen onto her shirt. Why didn't you stop? You're not getting off. Her tone was casual, but her words sent to chill down Simon's spine. What did you say? She suddenly turned, and her voice became a deep rumble. Her face transformed as she spoke, her eyes switching from blue to red. Her mouth became a deep black cavern, and horns peaked out from her brittle hair.

You are never getting off this bus. Simon yelped and jumped back. Her words reverberated in his skull. She continued to stare at him, her eyes never leaving his, as the bus weaved through traffic. He gulped and spoke to himself. It's okay, Simon. It's not real. None of this is real. He repeated the words over and over until the bus driver turned back to the wheel and resumed her normal features. He was afraid to speak to her again, but he forced himself to.

Are you ever going to stop the bus? She laughed, the deep rasp of a smoker, and gestured to the sign just ahead. I wouldn't be much of a driver if I never stopped. But you just... Simon hung his head, letting this sentence fall. He couldn't believe anything he was seeing. At least they were finally stopping. He could get off now, and everything would go back to normal.

But just like before, a rush of people blocked him as he tried to exit. He didn't bother being polite this time. Out of my way! He shouted. But the bodies pressed in close, squishing into the aisle like he wasn't even there. A breeze wafted through the open door, and Simon gulped the fresh air. Just a few more steps and he would be free. Move!

He screamed, louder than he ever would have been. dared before. It was still no good. Nobody moved. Desperate and enraged, Simon blindly reached out and pushed as hard as he could. Flesh gave way beneath his palms, and time seemed as slow as he watched the repercussions. He didn't even realize who he'd pushed until it was too late. An elderly woman lost her balance. Her cane falling to the bus floor as her body flew down the steps to land on the concrete below with a sickening crunch. Bile rose in Simon's throat as he looked down at her. Her arms and legs were splayed like a starfish. and blood oozed from her head, matting her gray hair to her scalp.

Her mouth was frozen in surprise, her lifeless gray eyes staring up at Simon in accusation. He kept his eyes on her as he waited for the screams of horror from witnesses, the rough hands that would grab him and hold him mercilessly until the police came to take him away. But he was met with silence. When he finally turned to the other passengers, none of them even noticed. Not even the bus driver reacted. Simon remained at the top of the stairs, frozen and shot. shock as the doors closed, and the bus pulled away, leaving the woman to bleed out on the sidewalk.

Her cane laid on the floor beside him. He picked it up and sat down as a wave of numbness overtook him. Simon was a logical person. He was a math teacher, after all. He was familiar with equations, but this one didn't add up if what he saw wasn't real. Then how was he holding the woman's cane in his hand? Unless none of this was real, not even the bus. Maybe he'd never even woken up that morning. And this was all some crazy dream. If that were the case, he desperately wanted to wake up. But how? He pinched his skin, amazed at how real the pain felt.

He'd never had a dream this vivid before, and he never wanted to again if he could help it. Goose bumps rose over his arm, and he looked outside to find that the city had disappeared in a thick cloud of fog. So lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the change, and now only the occasional streetlight burst through the gloom. Now, he felt more suffocated than ever. trapped in this box with strangers, veering down a road to nowhere.

Dream or no dream, he would make an exit. Simon always carried a pocket knife with him just in case. His grandfather had taught him that. So far, he'd only ever needed it to cut open packages or a loose thread on his sweater, and he'd never dreamed of using it as a weapon. But these were desperate times. The knife opened with a click, and Simon left the cane on the seat as he approached the driver again.

He had no idea how she could see through the fog, but she seemed relaxed and in control. Not for long. Stop the bus, he said. His voice low and threatening. He kept the knife hidden behind his back for now. Not happening, pal. She responded without taking her eyes off the road.

Fury rose within him, hot and powerful. How dare she not even look at him? In one smooth motion, he had the knife to her throat, pressing firmly against her skin. I won't say it again. Stop the bus now. You're not getting off. She finally turned to him. But her face had transformed into the devilish figure again.

Black liquid oozed from her mouth as she smiled. You're never getting off. It wasn't sure if he meant to do it, or if he was so startled by the re-emergence of the monster, but the next thing he knew, Simon slit the knife across her throat, spilling hot, fresh blood all over his arms. He stumbled back in shock, falling halfway down the stairs. When he looked up, the driver had returned to normal,

but her head was awkwardly tilted to the side, and her arms were motionless on her lap. Simon yagged and hauled himself to his feet. He had just enough time to look through the windshield at the bright red light shining through the fog before a loud horn blared and everything went black. Hey y'all, it's Kelly Clarkson with Wayfair. Ever order furniture online and wonder, what if?

Like, what if it doesn't hold up? That sofa was four days old. You should have ordered from Wayfair. With Wayfair, there's no what if. Just style you love and quality you can trust. Visit Wayfair.ca. Wayfair, every style, every home. He was cold down to his bow.

bones, his head ached, and when he raised his fingers to his eyes, they were long and pale. He stumbled to his feet, slipping on a puddle of blood. The bus was still moving, trucking steadily onward, like always. But the driver's seat was empty. The entire bus was empty. Fog obscured the windows, making the interior dark and dreary. Simon walked down the aisle, looking into every seat, but not a single one was occupied. The teenagers were gone. The woman with the tuna sandwich was gone. The man who looked like his grandfather was gone. He was entirely alone on a bus that didn't stop moving. A cough sounded behind him and he startled. He turned back to the front of the bus to find the horrifying devil monster in front of the wheel.

But now it had a large gash in its neck that bled profusely all over the wheel, dripping down to the floor and sliding to coat Simon's shoes. What happened? Simon whispered. The devil smiled back. Look behind you. Simon didn't want to look. but he forced himself to peek out the back window. The fog lifted enough for him to see the intersection they'd just passed through, where a semi-truck had collided with the 17A bus. The bus was completely crushed, both ends squished together like an accordion. A single glance made it clear that no one survived,

and yet Simon was still here. He stared at the crash until the fog obscured it, but he'd never forget that image. He walked on unsteady legs, his shoes soaking up blood, and he fell into the seat behind the monster. What's happening? The words were a plea, a cry for a reasonable explanation that he would never get.

The monster's red eyes met his, and its cracked lips opened to reveal blackened teeth. Each one sharp as a fang. I told you, Simon, you've never getting off this bus. SCP 342 is a shapeshifting transit ticket that changes into whatever bus, train, or transportation pass a person most wants to use. appearing completely normal and always regenerating after use or disposal.

However, anyone who uses it to board a vehicle becomes trapped on board and cannot leave by any means. During the ride, victims experience escalating dread, paranoia, hallucinations, and the terrifying certainty they will never get off, often seeing passengers and staff as threatening or monstrous while normal announcements become sinister messages. Once the vehicle reaches the end of its route and stops. The rider vanishes from reality entirely, while nearby bystanders often feel overwhelming unease and flee early. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released.