The lake was still, flat and mirror-like. The girls stood clustered at the shoreline, watching the impossible unfold.

The old plane, coughed to life that morning with a deep, rattling growl. Laura had been working on it for weeks in secret. She’d scavenged parts from radios, stripped wires from their backup generator, studied diagrams from a mold-eaten flight manual like scripture. No one really believed she’d pull it off.

It had taken off clumsily, wheels kicking up snow and pine needles from the clearing’s edge, groaning with strain. The rusted wings trembled, but it lifted, barely, into the sky, carving low over the tree line before leveling out.

Gasps rippled through the group. Some cheered. Others stood frozen.

Natalie didn’t speak.

She stood apart from the others, her arms crossed, tension locked in her shoulders. Her girlfriend was beside her, hands clutched to her chest, eyes locked on the tiny dot of metal rising above the woods, her whole face unreadable.

Natalie had noticed how close her girlfriend and Laura had gotten lately. Quiet talks. Long looks. She hadn’t said anything, just kept her distance, watching it all like a lit fuse she couldn’t smother.

For a solid ten seconds, the plane flew. Not high. Not smooth. But it flew.

It passed low over the lake, its reflection trembling in the water like a ghost, and for a heartbeat, everyone held their breath.

Then it happened. No warning. No sputtering. Just light.

A flash of white-hot fire tore through the belly of the plane mid-flight. The explosion echoed across the water like thunder, drowning out every scream. A chunk of the wing tore away. Flames engulfed the fuselage as it tipped, one engine spinning out in a death spiral, the other gone completely.