Copyright 2025 Blackwych Books

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  This book uses British English spelling.

  Kindle edition

  First published in December 2025

  by Blackwych Books, London

  This edition: January 2026

  Beth Wilson's night just got a whole lot worse. Having made the journey into the centre of London for an overnight shift, she finds that the entire building is off-limits due to a police investigation. Her only option is to turn around and get back on the bus.

  But this is no ordinary night. And this is no ordinary bus journey.

  As she makes her way south through the city, Beth starts to notice something a little 'off' about some of her fellow passengers. Unable to shake the sense that she's being followed, she tries different seats. Meanwhile the bus keeps stopping along its route, picking up even stranger passengers. Soon the entire journey feels like a trip into the darkest reaches of a nightmare.

  The only person who seems able to help Beth is the driver, but he's apparently oblivious to the strangeness that seems to be taking over the bus seat by seat. Soon a slow-motion horror is set in motion, one that Beth can't escape. What is really wrong with the bus? What will happen when it reaches its destination? And were all its passengers doomed from the moment they got onboard?

  2am is the seventh book in the Haunting of London series, a collection of stand-alone but loosely linked horror stories set over the course of one ghostly twenty-four-hour period in the city.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  2am

  (The Haunting of London)

  Prologue

  London screams, especially at night.

  On this particular night, there were so many sounds all rising up at once: the grinding of tyres on tarmac; the rattling of trains; the beeping of car horns; the barking of dogs; more trains; people shouting and cheering and singing and fighting and kicking things; trees rustling in a dark gentle breeze; police and ambulance and fire brigade sirens racing along the streets; music blaring from various doors and windows; and above all of that, a faint immutable humming sound that never really went away. Even at its quietest, London was never silent. Never even quiet.

  And then came the impact.

  Even above the usual bedlam, the thunderclap of tearing, ripping metal briefly stood out. The sound was so violent, it seemed almost to split the night into two. Steel crashed against stone, glass smashed – and something heavy thundered into a patch of tarmac somewhere. More than that, something tall and old shuddered under the impact, spreading its tremors through the ground. And somewhere in the middle of all this cacophony, tyres squealed and an engine briefly surged and metal screeched into the night air and something cried out in pain.

  This disturbance lasted for two, maybe three seconds before ending as abruptly as it had begun. The city then returned to its usual screaming din.

  ***

  “What was that noise?”

  Standing outside a shuttered bank, where he'd been talking to a homeless man surrounded by plastic bottles filled with suspicious liquids, P.C. Nick Warner turned and looked along the late-night London street. The sound had been brief but intense, filling the cold air before fading away, and now all he could hear was the rumble of a train passing over a nearby bridge. He knew something had happened, however, and finally he turned to look back down at Humble Charlie.

  A little further along the street, back in the other direction, an unwanted alarm was still blaring inside a factory shop that had been shut for months.

  “I'd better go and see what that was,” Nick told the old man. “Stay safe, Charlie, yeah?”

  “You're the one running toward whatever made that noise,” Charlie replied gruffly as Nick began to walk away. “I reckon you're the one who needs to stay safe.”

  Picking up his pace, Nick heard a dog barking somewhere nearby. He wasn't quite panicking, not yet, but he was starting to think that he'd heard some kind of car crash. There'd been a twist of metal and a shattering of glass, and a heavy thud that had almost made the ground shake. With his colleague having chased after two men selling drugs in a nearby park, Nick was temporarily alone on the streets and he was already starting to think that he was too wet behind the ears for something like this.

  Then again, he also felt as if he had something to prove.

  As he reached the squad car that he and Trevor had parked a short while earlier, he was already starting to think that perhaps he'd been mistaken, that the crashing sound had been nothing more than -

  “What the hell was that?” Trevor shouted breathlessly, racing around the corner from another street and then stopping as soon as he spotted Nick. “What's going on back here?”

  “I dunno,” Nick replied as the pair of them began to make their way toward the roundabout ahead. “I heard it too. I almost felt the ground shake.”

  “I lost them two bastards,” Trevor continued. “I'll find 'em again soon, mind. I might swing by tomorrow and see if I can spot 'em.”

  “You reckon they're the two dealers we've been after for a while?”

  “You didn't see that bird who died after taking their stuff,” Trevor said as they walked around the railing and began to head over to the middle of the roundabout. “Her gob was foaming and there was all this yellow -”

  Stopping suddenly, they both looked along the next road and tried to make sense of what they were seeing. The road was dark, barely lit at all, and about two hundred feet further along there was a low, arched train bridge. Something was blocking the road beneath that bridge, however, and something large had been left on the ground just a little way further back. The rest of the road, meanwhile, was covered in thousands of twisted little metal pieces, and glass was reflecting the low lights of the train line high above.

  “What is it?” Nick asked.

  “I've got no idea,” Trevor told him as they set off across the road, quickening their steps yet again. “It looks like something's hit the bridge but...”

  Feeling a crunch under his right foot, he stopped and looked down. He saw shards of glass everywhere, and a moment later he looked at the shape under the bridge and tilted his head slightly as he began to understand.

  “You've got to be kidding me,” he whispered.

  “What is it?” Nick asked, squinting but still not quite making out the sight ahead of them. “I can't tell.”

  “You've got to be yanking my chain,” Trevor muttered, hurrying toward the bridge now just as the rumble of another train began to make its way closer. “Seriously...”

  “What is it?” Nick said again, and now the train was rattling a little louder.

  Staring at the dark bridge, he saw that something was blocking one side of the road, something tall and perhaps slightly wider than a normal car. He couldn't make sense of the shape, however; it looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, with lots of sharp angles poking out in different directions. A little further back, meanwhile, another long and strangely shapeless object was on the road beyond the bridge, and a few seconds later the lights of a train rushed into view.

  “Stop!” Trevor yelled suddenly, waving both arms high in the air, but he was far too late. “Don't -”

  He didn't bother to finish because he knew there was no point. The train roared across the bridge, rattling loudly in the night air, and after a few seconds it rushed away out of view.

  “Call it in,” Trevor said frantically, tapping Nick on the arm and then rushing toward the bridge. “Tell 'em to stop all train traffic along this line. Tell 'em the bridge 'as taken a right whack.”

  “But what's happening?” Nick called after him. “I don't understand!”

  As Trevor hurried toward the scene of the accident, Nick grabbed his radio and tapped to call back to the control room.

  “This is P.C. Nick Warner out on Waddingham Road,” he stammered, squinting as he still struggled to make any sense of the dark object wedged beneath the bridge. From where he was standing, it looked almost like some kind of UFO that had crashed down to earth. “I need an immediate stop of all trains on the line going over the bridge here. There's been an accident. The bridge has been hit by... something.”

  ***

  A couple of minutes later, once he'd secured a promise that back-up and ambulances were on their way, Nick made his way closer. Every step w
as accompanied by the crunch of glass beneath his feet now, and he could see that Trevor was standing next to the dark object beneath the bridge. So far, however, that object resolutely refused to resolve itself or become in any way recognisable.

  “I called it in,” he said, feeling strangely helpless. “They're gonna send a -”

  In that moment, before he could finish, he realised that he could just about see the front of the object. It still didn't make a lot of sense but – as he reached Trevor and stopped – he finally understood what he was facing.

  “Is that... a bus?” he stammered.

  “Double decker,” Trevor replied, and now his voice was filled with shock. “It's gone right under the bridge, but there wasn't nearly enough clearance.”

  “But...”

  “Driver must've taken a wrong turn,” Trevor added.

  Nick fell silent for a moment as he spotted the twisted metal that had been left on the road further back, beyond the bridge. As his eyes adjusted a little more, he began to realise that the metal was long and quite wide, with strut-like metal pieces sticking out from the sides. As a car made its way around the far corner and stopped, the vehicle's headlights picked out the edge of the large metal piece, and Nick finally understood exactly what happened.

  “The top came off,” he said as a shudder ran through his bones. “The whole top of the bus...”

  “He must've been going at a fair lick,” Trevor replied, before hurrying over toward the front of the vehicle. “We need to check if there are any survivors.”

  “But how's that possible?” Nick asked, racing after him. “The whole top level can't just get sheared off like this.”

  “It can if it was going fast enough,” Trevor replied, reaching the bus and trying to force the door open, and then – when that didn't work – cupping his hands around his eyes so that he could peer inside. “The driver's dead.”

  “Are you sure?” Nick asked.

  “Half his brain's smeared across the steering wheel,” Trevor replied, “so I'm pretty confident. He mustn't have been wearing a belt and then I guess he nodded forward in the impact. It would've been quick, at least.”

  He began to make his way along the side of the bus, peering into the dark interior.

  “The lights are all off in there,” he muttered. “I can't see anyone on the seats, but they might be on the floor. No-one's screaming, either. If there were any passengers, they've either been knocked out or worse.”

  “What do we do?” Nick asked as he hurried along just a few paces behind.

  Somewhere in the distance, sirens were cutting through the thin, cold night air. Whether they were heading for the scene of the crash, or whether they were off to the site of some other accident, was impossible to tell so far.

  “I don't think there's anyone else on the bottom deck,” Trevor said, reaching the rear and looking up at the top of the bus, which had been smashed against the tunnel's arching brickwork. “It took the top deck right off, though,” he added, before turning to look at the twisted, mangled metal on the road ahead. “That would've...”

  His voice trailed off as he saw the wreckage. Pieces of metal and glass were scattered all across the road, and the lights of the car at the far end – which was sitting with its engine running, with nobody having climbed out yet – were picking out thousands upon thousands of shards everywhere. Mixed in with those shards, however, were larger objects that weren't reflecting light at all.

  “What would've happened to people on the top deck?” Nick asked cautiously. “Trev? What would've happened to anyone who was up on the top deck of the bus?”

  “Can't you see for yourself?” Trevor asked bitterly.

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  Trevor opened his mouth to reply, but for a moment he appeared to be entirely frozen. He stared at the darker objects – each about the size of a football – on the road, and after a few more seconds he turned away. Wincing slightly, he seemed lost in thought, before finally he reached out and steadied himself against the side of the crashed bus.

  The distant sirens, meanwhile, were heading away again.

  “Trev?” Nick continued. “I don't -”

  Before he could finish, Trevor held up a hand – as if to tell him to stop.

  “I don't get it,” Nick said, sounding a little desperate now. “I feel like I'm being really stupid here, Trev. What's going on?”

  In that moment, leaning forward, Trevor threw up. The remains of a meal deal prawn sandwich, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps and half a bottle of diet lemonade splattered down against the tarmac, followed by the sound of the man dry-heaving.

  “I don't understand!” Nick hissed, before hearing a slamming sound.

  Looking along the road, he saw that the driver of the car had now stepped out and was making his way closer. As Trevor continued to vomit, Nick realised that he needed to take control, so as a dog barked nearby he began to make his way toward what was left of the double decker bus's top level.

  “Sir?” he called out, holding his hands up as the man stopped up ahead. “I need you to stay back, okay? I need you to -”

  In that moment his right foot bumped against something on the ground. He instinctively looked down, and his mouth hung open as he found himself staring at the severed head of a young woman. Her hair was long and straggly, partially covering her face, while her neck was mostly intact and part of her left shoulder was still attached to the bottom section. Her features had been almost ground completely away; her nose was missing, as were her lips, and a thick grit-filled incision ran up through what remained of her face. Even her eyes, which were open, had been partially grazed away.

  Nearby, the head of an older woman had landed a little further from the bus, and further away still there were at least three more severed heads that had evidently been sliced away in the crash and left to tumble down onto the road below.

  “Oh,” Nick said as he finally understood, turning to see what remained of the bus's lower half still wedged beneath the fairly low bridge. “Okay, I... I get it now. I...”

  He fell silent.

  Trevor was still vomiting next to the bus, and the other guy was vomiting over by the front of his car. A dog was barking somewhere nearby and a faint roar was rising up from the orange-tinged late-night horizon, while – finally – police and ambulance sirens were racing toward the scene.

  The severed heads, meanwhile, were dotted about on the ground – and they were completely silent, even though their mouths were all open.

  Chapter One

  Tonight...

  “No, it's late as usual,” Beth Wilson explained with a heavy sigh as she looked along the rainy London street and still saw no sign of a bus. “It should be here any moment, though. I just can't believe that something like this could happen. What's the world coming to?”

  “I don't know,” her supervisor replied over the phone, “but I'd better get off the line in case the police call back. I just wanted to let you know the basics before it all hits social media. Get some sleep, Beth, and I'll call you in the morning when I know more. I think I'll be here for the rest of the night. Enjoy your bus trip home, I hope it turns up eventually.”

  “It'd better,” Beth muttered. “It's the last one of the night. Keep me updated about Kim, yeah? She's always been nice to me. I just really hope she pulls through.”

  Once the call was over, Beth stuffed her phone into her pocket and paused for a moment, trying to take stock of everything that had happened so far during the night. She'd been called in at the last moment to help out on one of the older, more rundown wards operated by the company, only to arrive and find that all hell had broken loose. Yaz had explained the night's events, and she knew that one of her colleagues was badly injured, but the rest of the saga didn't make a great deal of sense. Now, having taken refuge all alone in a bus shelter not far from the Connaught-Lincoln theatre, she just wanted to get home and crawl into bed, and then wait to see what news the morning might bring.

  Rain was battering the shelter's roof, as if it was threatening to break through and start attacking Beth directly.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered, looking up at the broken display screen before checking her watch for the umpteenth time.

  So far the bus was only about ten minutes late, which wasn't anywhere close to a record. She continued to look along the busy road; there were plenty of cars out, and taxis too, and a few of them were honking their horns as they tried to make their way through the late-night – or rather, early morning – traffic. Spotting a hotel opposite, Beth told herself that if she had the money to spare, she could have just gone over there and paid to get her head down until morning, but finances were tight and she quickly put that idea out of her mind.