The Dome - Prologue

It was getting dark.  Dusk had already settled down over the comatose – yet strangely serene – Kansas flatlands.  A car softly hummed along the empty single-lane highway, heading toward the rising moon that for the time being looked nestled atop a thin, orange line that seemed to be burning through the sky with the precision of a high-powered laser.

The woman in the front passenger seat bit down gently on a lock of dark-blonde hair sliding it through her glossed lips as she looked out the window. 

“So this is Kansas.”

“In all its glory. I’m loving the sky tonight, though,” the man beside her took a gulp of Red Bull, holding the bottom of the steering wheel with his free hand only.

“Right.” Subtle apathy rang in her cold honey coated voice. She grabbed the can from his hand.

“You know, there’s plenty in the back.” 

“Then you can grab one for yourself.” Her piercing blue eyes met his and she nodded ever so slightly toward the small refrigerator sitting behind them in the back seat.

She looked ahead and drank.  He wanted to think of something to say back but nothing came to mind. So he conceded defeat and could only smile as he turned his attention back to the barren highway.

“There is something to this sky, I suppose, Tim.”

“Huh huh.”

“You know, I doubt this road is well traveled,” she put the can down in the cup holder between them, under the car stereo; “we have to christen it.”

“Lynn, I really don’t want to pull over right now.”

“You’re not.”  She began to slide over to him.

“Lynn, I’m driving,” He objected as she put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him.

“And what? You’re going to hit a cow?” She backed away from him just enough to look at him and speak as she shrugged her shoulders.

“If one was around, yes,” he leaned in and kissed back.