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“I see a patchwork of clouds, and a red moon. There’s also some kind of atmospheric movement. Like an aurora.”

“Except red?”

He nods. “Red, orange, yellow. Yeah. It’d probably be pretty if we could see it without the clouds. And if we weren’t on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, that’s what I see too, only it’s freaking me out. Then there’s whatever we spotted in the woods. I know you said coyotes or something, and that makes sense, but it was…” I shiver. “I’m being irrational, aren’t I? Could that be from the blow to the head?”

“I think it’s the situation.” He waves into the darkness as we walk. “Deserted road. Thunderstorm. No cell signal. Red sky. Shadows in the forest. It’s either really creepy or…”

“Just a country road at night, after a storm?”

“That’s where my mind is. Focused on the practicalities. On getting you to a doctor. Or how to prevent someone else colliding with the vehicles. Am I missing some way to get help? Should I be going for help?” He looks over. “We’re just looking at this from different angles.”

“Okay. I just…” I shove my hands into my damp pockets. “I don’t want you feeling as if you’re stuck taking care of someone who’s losing it.”

“I never thought that. I really would like you to see a doctor, but that’s what I do, right? Stabilize an accident victim until I can get them to the hospital. My medical education is two years of college.” He gives me a wry quarter smile. “I’m accustomed to the safety net. I like the safety net.”

“I would, too.”

“You seem okay, but head injuries are nothing to mess with.” He peers over at me. “If you’re worried I’ll think you’re ‘losing it,’ as you say, that could make you withhold information I need. If you really do start to see or hear anything odd, please let me know.”

“At this point, I’m not sure what I’d consider odd.”

“Just don’t be afraid to mention anything, okay?”

I don’t answer. I am afraid to mention things, especially the sense that something is very wrong here. If he doesn’t see it, then our alliance is too fragile to discuss it.

He doesn’t notice my lack of agreement, and we continue on, as I look around. On the way up the road, I’d been focused on seeing signs of life. Now I look at the woods, which look like … woods. The same mixed forest I grew up with—maple, oak, birch, pine. If I’d been diverted along here during the day, I’d have thought nothing of it. Or I’d have put the windows down and inhaled the scent of home. Just a lonely road …

“When you turned off,” I say, “were there other cars?”

“Hmm?”

“The detour. When I exited, there were a few cars ahead of me. They took off—I was going slow once the storm started. But then there was nothing in front of me or behind until you came along.”

“Not many others took the turn when I did. I was relying on the GPS, which suggested the detour.”

“Same,” I say.

“There was a car behind me. I noticed the headlights. Oh, and one in front. But they both turned off. I think it’s a pretty quiet road. Which is good, in the sense we won’t have a twenty-car pileup. Bad in the sense we aren’t likely to get a trucker with a radio.”

I’d meant it seemed odd, how we’d left the highway with a few vehicles, but now only one other has come along in nearly an hour. But Henry said the ones with him turned off, and I don’t know what happened to the ones in front of me. Maybe they didn’t speed away but also turned off.

“Is that the fallen tree up there?” I ask, pointing.

“It is.”

We skirt out around it, and as we circle the trunk, Henry slows.

I halt fast. “What is it?”

“It’s dark.”

I’m about to laugh and say yes, it’s night, when I realize what he means. We should see hazards blinking from the vehicle the kids arrived in. We don’t.

Henry picks up speed. I jog to keep pace, even as my knee twinges. He motions that I can hang back, but that is not an option tonight. I’m sticking close.

We soon see Caleb and Noemi’s vehicle. It’s a compact BMW SUV. It’s a dark color—burgundy?—and barely visible in the night.