Everyone turned to see what she was talking about. Almost like the shadow image of a crescent moon, a large structure definitely stretched across the expanse of the waterway. There was nothing else it could be.

Old Man Frypan was the one to answer. “I’m damn near ninety years old and got the vision of a one-eyed bat. Am I really the only one who noticed that a half hour ago?”

Nobody responded to that, probably feeling like Jackie—a little bit of awe mixed with a strange shifting of time, like the ground beneath them had suddenly turned into sand. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was just something foreboding about that bridge. And maybe a drifting of mist or cloud had dissipated, because it seemed a lot clearer now. Maybe a mile away.

Dominic asked a very reasonable question. “Are we sure we want to walk near that thing? My mom used to tell me a story about trolls that live under a bridge. Scared the crap out of me.”

“Are you saying you think a troll might live under that bridge?” Trish shot back, always loving an opportunity to rib one of her oldest friends. “I honestly don’t think trolls are real. In fact, I’m ninety-nine percent certain.”

“But Cranks are,” he responded. “Bridges seem like places a Crank might live. Or hang themselves from. I bet there’s a few Cranks hanging from that bridge.”

“Did you eat some wild mushrooms?” Miyoko asked. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

The more they spoke, the more their words slowly faded to a weird, muffled buzz drowned out by the rushing waters of the river. Because she thought she saw something, despite the distance. She was almost sure of it.

“Guys,” she said, but not loud enough to make them shut up. “Guys!” This time she damn near shouted it. When they finally gave her their full attention, she pointed exactly as she had done a couple of minutes earlier.

“I doubt they’re Cranks,” she said, her voice shaky, either from excitement or fear, she truly did not know. “But something is moving on that bridge.”

They all turned their heads at once. And her doubts dissolved.

Almost in a whisper to herself, she said, “Maybe it’s them.”

“There’s a woman over there.”

Letti said it, standing at the entrance to the dilapidated bridge, a thing that had seemed a quaint relic of the past until she said those words. He and Sadina were sitting on a rock in the bridge’s shadow, enjoying the respite from the sun.

It had been a simple statement. A simple observation. But an oily dread slicked the back of Isaac’s throat.