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“Uh, right. Sorry.” He peers up. “I wouldn’t call it blood-red…”

“Semantics. It’s weird and creepy. But I’m sure there’s a meteorological explanation, right? Blood moon?”

“Didn’t see one in the forecast, but I’ve been busy, not sure I’d have noticed.” He lifts his phone and snaps a few photos. “Okay, let’s see if we can find this woman. What’d she look like?”

When I don’t answer, he glances over to see me fixing him with a hard look.

“What?” he says.

“You’re questioning whether I saw someone. Now you’re asking for her description in hopes thinking about it will make me realize I can’t remember and therefore didn’t see anyone.”

“No, I just thought a description might help.”

“Because otherwise…” I wave at the downed tree. “Do you really think we’re going to find multiple people under that and need to figure out which is the one I saw?” I shake my head. “Early fifties. Graying dark hair about the length of yours. Pale skin. Jeans. Light-colored shirt. Maybe boots? Hiking boots? Really, I’m surprised I remember that much when the entire episode was one split second of ‘Holy shit, there’s a woman on the road!’”

“Fair. I just don’t see how—” He cuts himself short and raises a hand against the protest I wasn’t going to make. “I’ll stop now. We’ll take a look, and then we’ll go in search of help or cell signal.”

There’s no one out here. Between Henry’s big flashlight and the storm abating, we can easily check the tree and all around it. We even find my phone, now dead. One more sweep and then it’s time to head out. We debate which direction to walk, but since we know there was no signal on the way here—and no sign of habitation—we decide to press onward.

As we walk, both of us turn around a few times to be sure we can see the pulse of Henry’s hazard lights. Henry even left a note on the dashboard, explaining that the vehicles are disabled and we’ve gone for help. Because if anyone does come along, they aren’t driving past that huge tree spanning the narrow road.

We walk in silence, me scanning the left side, Henry the right. My gaze is sweeping forward when I catch movement, and I wheel, flashlight beam slicing across trees.

“See something?” Henry says.

I wordlessly walk to the shoulder and peer into the woods. Shadows slide between the trees.

“Huh,” Henry says, and I exhale in relief.

“I’m not imagining that?” I murmur.

“Nope, something’s in there.”

He puts his hand out, and I give him the flashlight. He moves to the edge of the forest and shines the light in. Shadows writhe against darkness, but that darkness seems to swallow the flashlight beam, making it impossible to know what we’re actually seeing.

He takes another step, and I rock forward, his name on my lips, chased by a warning.

Don’t go in there.

I swallow it back. He’s stopped and is moving the beam about, as if trying to pierce the black. The movement is gone, leaving only trees and bushes.

“Definitely not a person,” he says. “Looked small for a deer. Coyote?” He shakes his head sharply and moves back to me. “Unless the critters have cell phones, they can’t help us. Keep going?”

I nod, and he hands back the flashlight. We get maybe another hundred paces before he says, “Do you see that?”

When he points, I pick up a red glow to my left. It’s faint and pulsing.

“Brake lights?” he murmurs.

I shine the flashlight, but the red glow comes from inside the woods, maybe a hundred feet ahead. It’s not the rhythmic on-off of hazard lights. It’s sporadic—glowing, flickering, glowing again.

“Crossroad,” Henry says.

He points, and when I shine the light, I see that the forest breaks with what looks like a bisecting dirt road, where that light is flashing.

I pick up speed, only to have my leg buckle, and I wince.

“I should have had you wait in the truck,” Henry says. “I’m not thinking straight myself.”