The Girl in Red

That wasn’t what bothered Red, though. It was the car seat in the back, the one with a desiccated little mummy strapped safely inside.

Red closed her eyes tight until she cleared the bumper of the car and staggered away, not opening them until she faced the other side of the highway. She hurried across the other two lanes, crossed the barrier in the middle, and made for the field on the other side. The ditch wasn’t quite so steep there, and she was down and up again and feeling pretty secure about her chances as she crossed the patch of yellow grass that was a mirror of the one on the opposite side.

She’d had her ears open, listening hard for anyone’s approach, but the sight of the woods made her a little giddy and she was still trying to shake off the scene in the Honda.

Which was why when the blond woman stepped out of the trees Red was shocked that she hadn’t heard her coming. She ground to a halt, her hand going automatically to her hip, where her axe hung.

“Hello!” the woman said, waving in a friendly fashion.

They were about ten feet apart, close enough for Red to see that the woman had the kind of blandly open face preferred for physician’s office receptionists. She looked like she would be helpful and cheerful and laugh at your stupid jokes while she took your insurance card.

She wore a pair of denim cutoffs and a gray hooded sweatshirt, absurd clothing given the increasingly cold weather. Her legs were covered in scratches and bug bites, and so were her hands.

“Hello!” she said again, and took a step closer to Red. She wore black Converse low-tops with no socks.

Her smile was toothy and pinned on her face like a mask.

I know you, Red thought.

Everything about the woman was suspicious. She was dressed inappropriately, she had no bag or pack, and she conveniently popped out of the woods close to a place where people might cross.

The only question is how many more are there, Red thought, and carefully unbuttoned the plastic cover around the axe blade.

The woman didn’t seem to notice Red’s careful movement, so intent was she on maintaining eye contact and her toothpaste-model grin.

“Hello!” she said for the third time, and Red heard an undercurrent of annoyance this time. “Are you alone?”

Red didn’t say anything, only carefully eased her pack off her back and dropped it at her feet.

The blond bait (for that was what she was, she was bait for lonely travelers, and soon she would ask Red to come and sit by her fire and she and her friends would put Red on a spit and eat her all up) took another step and Red pulled the axe off her belt and held it up.

“That’s far enough.”

“Whoa!” the woman said, and theatrically held her hands in the air.

Her tone was so fake, so clearly unconcerned, that Red knew there was at least one more person lurking nearby.

“There’s no need for that,” the woman continued. “I’m all by myself, just like you. I was hoping maybe we could be friends.”

“I don’t need any new friends. My Facebook profile is full up,” Red said. “And stay where you are.”

The smile finally dropped. “You’re not very polite, are you? Is this how you always greet someone you’ve never met before?”

Only someone who’s trying to jump me, Red thought, but she only said, “Yes.”

“Look, you’re a woman alone. I’m a woman alone. I just thought it might be safer for us to travel together.”

“It might be,” Red said. “Except you’re not alone.”

The woman’s eyes—brown, Red noted idly, and it was unusual to see blond hair with brown eyes—slid to one side and then quickly back at Red.

At least one, coming from my right side. He would have hidden somewhere in the maze of cars, and signaled his partner from the road once Red’s back was to him.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m alone. I’ve been alone ever since my family died.” Her voice was suddenly choked by tears.

“Does that work? The fake plea for sympathy?” Red was playing it cool, keeping her voice very even, but her heart was doing a jittery stutter-step and she could taste her own blood in her mouth. There was no guarantee that she would get out of this alive, even if she did everything right.

“What do you mean, fake?” the woman said, and her voice was edged with anger.

It was the first time Red had heard a sincere emotion from her, the first time the mask fell away completely.

“My whole family did die. My husband, my daughter, my two sons, my sister and her whole family. I have no one now. No one.”

“And what would your family think of you if they could see you now? Do you think they’d be proud of you, trying to take from someone you don’t even know?”