Stars, Stripes, & Strange Blinking Lights

1

Bailey yanked off her apron, finally free of the diner's grease and never-ending demands. The shift had been brutal—one of those nights where time dragged, tips were lousy, and the customers acted like they were born without manners. She shoved the apron into her bag and pushed open the back door, stepping into the humid night air that clung to her skin like a wet blanket.

A beat-up, green Chevy rumbled to life at the far end of the parking lot, its headlights barely cutting through the darkness. Bailey sighed, pulling her hair loose from its bun, running her fingers through the tangles. The truck idled in its familiar, worn-out way as she slid into the passenger seat, tossing her bag onto the floor. The smell of motor oil and stale cigarettes greeted her.

"You're late," she muttered, leaning back against the seat.

Luke shrugged from behind the wheel, his hand already messing with the broken radio. "I got held up."

"Yeah, right." She lit a cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. "I swear, this place sucks the life outta me."

He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as they pulled out of the parking lot. She glanced over at him, rolling her eyes. Typical. He was never much for conversation, not when there was nothing to say, and especially not when he was thinking about getting his hands on her.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, the dull hum of the tires on the road the only sound. The streetlights faded behind them as they veered off the main road and into the backwoods, headed toward the familiar dirt path they'd parked on too many times to count.

"Same spot, huh?" Bailey asked, flicking her ash out the window.

Luke grinned, finally breaking his silence. "If it ain't broke."

The "usual spot" was a forgotten strip of dirt road on the edge of town, tucked away between overgrown trees and an old gravel pit. Nobody bothered them out there. It was quiet, remote, and far enough from prying eyes. The truck rattled over the uneven ground as they pulled off into the clearing, dust kicking up around them. The cicadas buzzed in the humid night, a constant hum against the backdrop of nothing.

As soon as the truck was in park, Luke leaned over, his hand sliding up her leg, fingers tracing the skin just beneath the hem of her cutoffs. Bailey exhaled, taking a last drag of her cigarette before flicking it out the window. She turned toward him, letting his hand move higher, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch.

"Eager tonight, huh?" she teased, leaning in, their lips meeting in a rough kiss.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she shifted in her seat, their bodies pressed together as the cab of the truck grew hotter. Her hands tangled in his hair as they moved together. He tastes like beer and cigarettes.

Then the truck rumbled.

It wasn't the engine sputtering—this was deeper, almost like the ground itself was shaking beneath them. Bailey paused, lips still against Luke's, her breath caught in her throat.

"What the hell was that?"

Luke didn't seem to notice, his hands still on her hips, pulling her toward him. "Don't worry about it," he muttered, his voice low, his mouth finding her neck.

But Bailey pulled back again, her hand gripping the seat as the rumble grew louder, deeper. She could feel it in her chest now, like the earth was trembling, something heavy moving just beneath the surface. The truck's headlights flickered once. Then again.

"Luke, did you see that?"

Luke groaned, annoyed, his hands dropping to his sides as he leaned back. "It's nothing. The truck does that all the time. Just... relax."

But she couldn't shake it. Something was off, more than just the truck acting up. She was about to argue when the rumbling turned into something sharper, louder—a sudden burst of light shot across the sky, cutting through the darkness like a blade. It was blinding, white and hot, streaking across the sky just ahead of them.

The entire truck shook, and the lights flickered out again, this time for good. The radio cut to static, crackling before dying completely.

Bailey gasped, pulling away from Luke completely now, her heart racing. "Did you see that?!"

Luke swore, banging his hand on the steering wheel as the dashboard lights faded. "Dammit, my truck's dead."

But Bailey wasn't paying attention to the truck. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the spot in the sky where the light had disappeared behind the tree line, far ahead of them, maybe miles away. "Luke, I'm serious. That wasn't normal. Something shot across the sky, it—it looked like it landed."

"Probably just a meteor," Luke said dismissively, more concerned with trying to get the engine to turn over. "This damn truck. I knew it was gonna give me trouble."

"A meteor?" Bailey shook her head, her pulse still racing. "Meteors don't make the whole damn ground shake like that. And they don't flicker out like a damn lightbulb."

Luke wasn't listening. He was already climbing out of the truck, slamming the door as he popped the hood and started fiddling with the engine. "Grab the flashlight from the glove box, would ya? I gotta figure out what's wrong with this piece of shit."

Bailey stayed in her seat for a moment longer, staring out at the now-dark sky. Whatever that light was, it had been too fast, too bright, too... controlled. And the rumbling, like something massive had been moving through the atmosphere, something big enough to shake the ground beneath them.

She swallowed, opening the glove box and pulling out the flashlight. Her fingers felt shaky, her mind still racing as she stepped out of the truck. The quiet night felt heavier now, almost suffocating, as she glanced down the empty dirt road.

"That wasn't just a meteor," she muttered under her breath, shining the flashlight toward Luke.