But just as they came out of a turn, they were forced to swerve to avoid an obstacle on the road. The car slammed against the side of the mountain. The boys screamed. The car bounced back onto the path, spun around by ninety degrees, and came to a standstill, the engine stopping.

Silence reigned once more, broken only by their heavy breathing.

“What the fuck was that?” said one of the boys as he tried to get out. The metal door panel had buckled, and he had to shove it free with his shoulder. He rolled out onto the road, drunk, but managing with some trouble to get back to his feet. He was bleeding from a tear in his jeans.

The others all laughed, with one exception.

“My dad’s going to kill me,” he slurred, reaching for another can of beer.

“I need to pee,” said another.

There was someone standing in the middle of the road, watching them. It had taken them a while to notice the dark, motionless figure on the edge of their field of vision. Somehow it looked imposing even in the middle of that majestic natural landscape. They remembered now what they’d seen in the moment before the crash: a man standing with his arms stretched out in front of him, as if to stop the advance of a runaway train.

He was wearing a kind of coat they had only ever seen in old photographs. His face, covered by a rag that was also wrapped around his head, was a dark smudge where the spark of human expression would normally reside.

The boys who were still inside the SUV managed to get the engine running again, and began honking the car horn, yelling at the man to get out of the way. The stranger covered his ears, as if startled by the sudden commotion.

The boy who was out on the road started to laugh.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, spitting in the man’s direction. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” He walked up to the man and tried to kick him.

The man grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. The boy gasped for air, his fingers curling around the man’s large, rough, ruthless hand. He could barely hear his friends’ screams. The arm that was holding him captive was strong, and so was the hand that was crushing his throat. It pressed unhesitatingly against his skin, blocking the passage of air.

The rag that concealed the stranger’s features slipped by an inch down the skin of his face and the boy came face to face with a skull.