That night came roaring back. She remembered the headlights of the vehicle that had stalked her, and the strange man and woman who’d given Kevin a ride back with the gas. She remembered thinking how safe she’d felt when they got to the motel.

The last thing she remembered was helping that man in the parking lot, under his camper. She never saw his face, but he smelled.

It was a man in a pickup camper truck. Remember that.

Trekking at a snail’s pace along the road, Sam cast around for a sign—a rural mailbox, the mouth of a road, a house, a barn—to tell her that people were nearby.

She saw nothing.

At times, she’d stop to concentrate, listening for sounds of a vehicle, or voices. She heard nothing but birdsong and breezes rushing through the treetops—then the yowl of her stomach.

Her hunger pangs were intense.

She tore open her last granola bar and ate half. Then she bit into her last apple, taking a few bites. She saved the remainder of her food, took another sip of water and continued.

She hurt all over, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to quit.

I have to keep going.

After she’d traveled at a snail’s pace for an hour, maybe less, her aching bones and joints forced her to stop. She yearned to collapse, surrender to the pain. When she came to a fallen tree, she sat on it to rest.

She reached into her pocket for her water, sipped some, and then ate more of her apple. As she chewed, she froze.

She heard a faint hiss in the distance.

The rolling crunch of tires on a dirt and gravel road grew louder.

A vehicle was coming.

Her heart beating faster, Sam’s mind raced.

What if it’s a camper truck? What if it’s the monster?

She winced and waded into a cluster of shrubs, where she watched and waited as the vehicle came into view.

It was a pickup truck. A man was driving.

It could be him!

Not wanting to make a mistake, she remained rooted and hidden, holding her breath until the truck passed in a dust cloud.

Once the air cleared, she exhaled and continued.

Minute after minute swept by, and not a single other vehicle appeared.

Enduring the pain, Sam kept moving.

She didn’t know how far she’d traveled along the road, up and down hills that curved through the forest. She hoped and prayed for another vehicle—for something—to help. Cresting one hill that offered a restricted view through gaps in the woods, Sam glimpsed a house and outbuildings. They appeared like toys, miles away, isolated and protected with heavy forest.

I’ll keep going until I find the access road and ask for help.

As she got to the base of the hill, Sam’s spirits rose when she heard the rolling crunch of tires again.