Dead in D Minor

Albert hadn't suspected that the bus ride south from Massachusetts was taking him to another planet; and another murder.

Albert was not introspective by nature, but the whine of the wheels drew his thoughts into the past - probably because the sound reminded him of schooldays. For no particular reason the echo those thoughts dredged up was of one of his teachers saying “everybody’s special.” A classmate quipped, “Albert’s terminally special.”
He was probably right. Albert had never felt at home in the world; if something had nothing to do with music, he just didn't get it. He didn’t know why people did what they did, or said what they said, or thought what they thought, or were the way they were. And talking to them only made things worse. Not that he'd really ever noticed . . . until they started killing each other all around him. Suddenly, he had to understand, because one of the people they were trying to kill, was him.