Word: bus
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...target would be there. Instead, she put on a flannel nightgown, a red cape shawl, hiking boots, a black wig and a headband to make people believe she was a homeless woman. With an old shopping bag in tow, Hepps stationed herself among the bushes by the #66 bus stop. When the sitting duck turned to get on the bus, Hepps shot her in the back. One thing about Hepps, her kills never see her coming...
...Bounding into the Harvard bus station with a spring in my step like the one that made Ty Cobb famous and grown men cry, I dashed for the number 96 bus, servicing Medford Square and Harvard Station via George Street and the Davis Square subway station...
...wake, a panic seized me. There was no end to Harvard. Johnston Gate turned into the Littauer Building, which blurred phantasmigorically and diabolically into the law school. I couldn't get out! The Center for Ukrainian Studies weighed like a 1,000-pound brick on my mind as the bus idled waiting for a traffic light to become green. North Hall, home to future jurists mocked my efforts at the next red, but, as the bus pulled off from the curb, leaving the Dudley Co-op as my final Harvardian obstacle, I ran down the length of the bus...
...bus made a right turn off of Mass. Ave. onto Beech Street, past a funeral home's two Cadillac hearses and a Jehovah's Witness temple to the intersection with Elm Street. Hitting the yellow rubber strip, I requested my stop. But the signal didn't work...
...decided to take the bus again--that meant heading for Davis Square, where I could pick up the trusty ol' 96er again. Unfortunately for me, I was out of money. At this point in the day, as the afternoon wore to dusk, I wasn't nervous but felt that I could use a donut. I knew they were waiting for me back in Leverett, and I suppose it was the promise of these that perked me up a little. "I need to find 60 cents, however, if I'm ever going to get back to that promised land," I thought...