The Last Stoplight

The rain hammered against the bus windows, blurring the world outside. Wedged between two chattering teenagers, I clutched my phone, desperately trying to ignore the low battery notification flashing red. Work had run late again, and the 6 p.m. bus was always packed.

Tonight, though, the usual annoyance morphed into a dull panic. My phone was my lifeline – the grocery list, my housemate's number, the bus tracking app I relied on to avoid missing my stop in the downpour.

Just as the battery bar dipped to a single, pulsating sliver, the GPS sputtered and died. A groan escaped my lips. Great. Perfect timing.

The teenagers finally stopped talking, replaced by an elderly woman humming softly beside me. Trying to stay calm, I tapped my shoulder against hers.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, dreading the question. "Do you, by any chance, know which stop comes after this one?"

The woman turned, her smile warm. "Sure, honey. It's Elm Street. You getting off there?"

Relief washed over me. "Yes, thank goodness! My phone died, and I wasn't sure."

"Oh, that's a shame," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's been some talk lately about a fake stop on this route. Looks just like Elm Street, but it drops you way out in the boonies."

My heart hammered in my chest. "A fake stop? Are you serious?"

She nodded, her eyes wide. "Heard it from a friend who drives for the company. Said they were testing a new system, but some people get confused and..." she trailed off, a shiver running down her spine.

The bus lurched to a halt, the doors hissing open. It looked exactly like Elm Street. Panic clawed at my throat. Was this it? The fake stop?

The teenagers shouldered past me, already halfway down the sidewalk. I hesitated, my gaze darting between the rain-slicked street and the woman's worried face.

Taking a deep breath, I reached into my bag and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill. "Thanks for the warning," I whispered, pressing it into her hand. "This should help you get a coffee."

She gave me a grateful smile. "You be careful, dear."

With a final look back, I stepped off the bus, my sneakers squelching on the wet pavement. The rain seemed heavier now, the streetlights casting long, eerie shadows.

Was this Elm Street, or was I about to be dropped in the middle of nowhere? My phone was dead, and a knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

Maybe, just maybe, it was best to keep walking and hope for the best.