Last Ride on Route 11
Last Ride on Route 11
by [uzair]
The final run of Route 11 was always quiet.
The bus rolled through the sleeping city like an old dog on its nightly patrol, its headlights brushing across shuttered storefronts, cracked sidewalks, and the glint of bottles left on curbs. Harold, the driver, had been doing this route for seventeen years, and the pattern had become familiar. Familiar enough that, when the woman first stepped onto the bus at Maple and 14th three weeks ago, he knew something was different.