The highway stretched endlessly through the Mojave Desert, the asphalt shimmering under the relentless sun. Sand and sagebrush sprawled across the horizon, interrupted only by the occasional jagged peaks of distant mountains. Marisol sat in the back seat of the family car, her stuffed bunny, Eri, perched proudly on her lap. She hummed softly, watching the desert roll by, its beauty stark and otherworldly.
Her father, Emilio, glanced back at her through the rearview mirror, a playful grin on his face. "You ready for some alien jerky, pumpkin? I hear the Martian Mango's out of this world."
Marisol giggled, her bright eyes lighting up. "Do you think they'll have the UFO keychains again? I want one for Eri."
"We'll find out soon enough," her mother, Sofia, chimed in from the passenger seat, smiling as she adjusted her sunglasses. "Though your dad will probably spend more time trying to convince the staff he's an alien expert."
"Hey, I've got credentials," her father joked, gesturing to the dusty road. "I've been abducted by your mom's shopping trips plenty of times."
Marisol's laughter filled the car, a sound as bright as the sun above. She hugged Eri tighter, the bunny's soft fur a comforting constant in her little world.
As they approached Baker, the quirky store came into focus—a bright, otherworldly beacon amidst the monotony of sand and rocks. The storefront was adorned with metallic sculptures of aliens, their oversized heads and wide, glossy eyes welcoming visitors with an air of playful absurdity. Above the entrance, a large saucer-shaped sign hovered, complete with blinking lights and a "Welcome Earthlings" banner.
Marisol pressed her face to the window, her excitement growing. "It looks like a spaceship!"
"It's even better inside," Emilio said, pulling into the parking lot.
The family stepped out of the car, the heat hitting them like a wave. The parking lot itself was a spectacle, dotted with alien-themed murals and life-sized statues of extraterrestrials. Nearby, a towering thermometer—the "World's Tallest Thermometer"—rose into the sky, a proud testament to Baker's peculiar charm.
As they entered the store, Marisol's senses were overwhelmed by the vibrant displays. Shelves lined with dozens of jerky flavors—from teriyaki to "Abducted by BBQ"—filled the air with a savory aroma. Alien memorabilia covered every inch of the walls, from glow-in-the-dark posters to UFO-shaped keychains.
"Look at this!" Marisol exclaimed, holding up a pack of "Area 51 Hot" jerky.
Emilio grinned, grabbing a few more flavors for the road. "This is the good stuff. My little girl knows I like it spicy"
Sofia wandered toward a peculiar machine in the corner, drawing Marisol's attention. The device was a fortune teller cabinet, its glass case housing a caricature of an alien version of Donald Trump. The animatronic figure wore a red MAGA hat and a sharp suit, its exaggerated features illuminated by flickering neon lights.
"What is that?" Marisol asked, giggling.
"That's Alien Trump," Emilio said, stepping closer. "He'll tell you your future—for a price."
Sofia rolled her eyes but fished out a dollar, sliding it into the slot. The machine whirred to life, the alien Trump's hand raising dramatically as it spoke in a gravelly voice.
"Your future is out of this world! Great things are coming your way. Believe me, nobody's luckier than you!"
A fortune card slid out of the machine, and Marisol grabbed it, her eyes wide with wonder. The card read: "You will encounter something extraordinary today. Prepare for the unexpected."
"Spooky," Emilio teased, ruffling Marisol's hair.
As they continued exploring the store, Sofia pointed out the construction behind the shop. Through the windows, they could see the skeletal framework of what appeared to be a UFO hovering just above the desert floor.
"That's the UFO Hotel," Sofia explained. "It's going to have themed rooms and everything."
Marisol's jaw dropped. "Can we stay there when its done!?"
"Yeah baby, Maybe next time," Emilio said, snapping a photo of the construction. The workers moved like ants around the massive structure, their tools glinting in the sunlight.
The saucer-shaped design was unmistakable, and even in its unfinished state, it looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.
"Imagine sleeping in a spaceship," Marisol mused, clutching Eri tightly. "That would be so cool."
"Cool and expensive," Sofia added with a laugh.
The family spent the next hour sampling jerky and browsing the shelves. Marisol picked out a small alien figurine to add to her growing collection of souvenirs, while Emilio stocked up on enough snacks to last a week. They posed for a photo with one of the alien statues outside before piling back into the SUV, their spirits high.
As they pulled onto the highway, the sun began to set, painting the desert in hues of orange and purple. Marisol settled into the back seat with a bag of Alien BBQ jerky in her lap, savoring the tangy sweetness. The road trip continued, the desert stretching endlessly around them. Her father hummed along to the radios latest kpop band, and her mother read aloud from phones travel blog about Universal Studios.
She felt happy, safe, and loved—a perfect moment she wished could last forever.
The car jolted violently to the side, a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass ripping through the air. Marisol screamed as her seatbelt yanked her back against the seat, her vision blurring from the sudden motion. The car spun wildly, gravel and sand kicking up like a storm, before skidding to a halt on the shoulder of the highway.
For a moment, there was silence—an eerie, oppressive silence broken only by the faint hiss of leaking fluids.
Marisol's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to orient herself. The bag of jerky lay crumpled on the floor, its contents scattered. Eri had fallen from her lap, landing face-down between the seats. Slowly, she looked up.
Her mother was slumped forward in the passenger seat, her head resting unnaturally against the dashboard. Blood trickled down her temple, staining her purse in her lap. "Mom?" Marisol whispered, her voice trembling. There was no response.
"Dad?" she choked out, turning her gaze to the driver's seat.
Her father was still conscious, but barely. A jagged piece of metal had pierced through the windshield and impaled him through the chest, pinning him to the seat. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his shirt a deep crimson. His hand trembled as he reached weakly toward her.
"Marisol," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the ringing in her ears. "Marisol…"
She couldn't move. Her body refused to respond as fear paralyzed her. Her father's eyes, glassy and unfocused, locked onto hers, his lips forming her name again and again.
"Marisol…"
Tears blurred her vision as a shadow she could not see gave placed Eri back in her lap. She clutched Eri to her chest, her fingers trembling. She wanted to scream, to call for help, to do anything—but all she could do was sit frozen in the back seat, watching the light fade from her father's eyes.
The desert stretched endlessly around the wreckage, the distant mountains bathed in the fiery hues of a setting sun. Hours later, Marisol was found wandering along the edge of the highway, her steps unsteady, her clothes torn and blood-stained. Eri dangled limply from her hand, her once-bright eyes dull against the fading light.
The responders were gentle but wary, their voices hushed as they led her away from the scene. To them, she was a survivor of a tragic accident. They didn't see the shadows that flickered at the edges of her vision, or feel the faint hum that seemed to emanate from the depths of the desert.
Marisol didn't speak as they guided her into the ambulance. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She simply held Eri close, her small frame trembling as the weight of the world pressed down on her.
As the rescue team sped off to find her parents, sophia remained unconcious and still. Everything except the sirens and the faint whisper of Marisol's name carried on the wind. She finally opening her eyes, to the flickering of the emergency lights. In the distance, the stars begin to emerge, their light cold and unyielding against the vast, indifferent expanse of the Mojave.