"THE GREEN VAN":
The road was bumpy with rocks and potholes from past rains, and it twisted far back into the trees. I was looking for a quiet spot to fish for a couple of hours, just me and my pole and a sandwich in the cooler. The main highway was miles behind me by now, and the only sound was the crunch of my tires on the earth.
After a couple of miles, the road grew even narrower. Branches scraped alongside my truck. I kept an eye out for a spot to pull off near the water. Then I noticed it up ahead – a green van parked at an angle on the right side of the road, hood up. An older man with gray hair stood beside it. A golden dog sat at his feet on a leash. He waved both arms when he saw my truck.
I slowed and stopped about twenty feet back. He walked toward me with the dog pacing along beside him. "Hey there," he said. "My van just quit on me. You know anything about engines?"
I rolled down the window. "I can take a look," I said. "What happened?"
He pointed under the hood. "It was running fine, then just quit. I tried to start it again, but nothing." His voice remained calm and pleasant. The dog looked up at me with calm eyes. "My name's Carl. Thanks for any help. Not many people come by this way."
I climbed out and retrieved my jumper cables from the toolbox in the bed. Carl watched me connect them to his battery. "You out here alone?" he asked as I worked.
"Yeah, just me," I replied.
He nodded slowly. "Smart. These roads are great for getting away from everything. You got family waiting back home?"
I told him that no one expected me until evening. We tried the van. The engine turned over but wouldn't start. Carl scratched his head. "Maybe it's the starter. You mind if I check your truck's cables again?"
As he worked, I stood back. His yellow jacket had a stain on one sleeve. The dog remained close to him but kept looking into the trees. Carl looked up and smiled. "You carry cash or cards? Banks close early in the nearest town. It's thirty miles."
"Something like that," I said. The question seemed strange. I moved to my truck door.
Carl stood up. "Tell you what. There's a place about a quarter mile down a side trail where phones sometimes get a signal. We could walk there together and call a tow. My dog needs to stretch anyway." He pointed into the dense trees. "Won't take long."
I shook my head. "I think I should just head back to the highway and get help from there."
His smile remained, but his eyes did not. "Come on now. You already stopped to help. Least you can do is walk with me a bit. These roads aren't safe for one person alone. I saw another car earlier today, but no one around now. Strange, right?"
My hand was on the truck door handle. The air was still. "I have to go," I said.
Carl took one step closer. The dog did not move. "Just five minutes. I have tools in the van. You can sit inside while I repair your cables right." He reached out and touched my light. "Don't leave an old man stranded out here."
I pulled away and got in the truck quickly. The key turned, and the engine roared to life. Carl was standing in front of my truck now. "Wait," he said louder. "You can't just leave me stranded."
I shifted into reverse and backed up a few feet. Then I turned around him on the narrow road. Branches scraped against the truck paint. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Carl run to his van. The hood closed. His engine roared to life immediately. The green van pulled out behind me.
The road turned sharply. I pressed the gas pedal down. Rocks flew from my tires. The van stayed right behind me, lights shining brightly in the mirror. At one turn, I almost went into the ditch. Carl's van bumped my truck once, hard enough to make me jerk. I held the steering wheel tightly and kept driving.
Trees blended together. The road topped a small hill. At the top, I spotted the highway sign in the distance. I floored it. The van eased back a bit. When I got on the paved road, I didn’t slow down. I went directly to the first store I saw and told the clerk what had happened. He called the sheriff immediately.
Later in the day, a deputy took my official statement. He showed me a picture. The man looked like Carl. The van looked like Carl’s too. A few weeks later, I read in the newspaper about a body being discovered off another forest service road, not far from where I’d been. The description matched.
I still drive, but not alone on those dirt roads again.
"KINDNESS COST US":
We had driven deep into the national forest that morning looking for waterfalls around the state park. The gravel road led through dense trees, and we hadn’t seen another soul for a long time. My boyfriend Ryan said it was nice to have some quiet after the crowded drive from Florida.
A small car stood at an awkward angle on the side of the road up ahead. A young woman waved her both arms when she saw our truck. Ryan slowed down. "She might be stuck," he said. "We can check." I nodded. It seemed like the right thing to do.
We pulled up a safe distance behind her. Ryan left the engine running. We got out. The woman hurried toward us. Her clothes looked dirty, and her hair was loose. "Thank you so much," she said. Her words tumbled out fast. "My car just died. The battery, I think. Do you have jumper cables? I have to get to my friend."
Ryan reached back for our cables from the back seat. "I can try," he told her. He walked to her car while I stayed near our truck door. The trees closed in. There were no bird sounds. The woman kept talking. “I haven’t seen many people come down this road today. You two from out of town?"
"Visiting from Florida," Ryan said as he opened the hood of her car. "Just here for the day to hike."
She smiled, but her eyes darted around. "Florida, huh. You got cash or cards on you? For gas later maybe." That was a strange question to ask to the stranger. I said, "We can help with the car, but that’s it."
Ryan connected the cables. "Try it now." The woman did not get in her car. She stepped back. Her hand went inside her jacket. She pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at us. "Wallets, phones, bank codes. Now. Walk into the woods."
My legs went stiff. Ryan raised his hands slow. "Okay, easy. We will give you what we have." We stepped off the road into the trees. Branches caught at our clothes. The woman followed close. "Deeper," she said. Her voice sounded tighter. "No one will hear you out here."
We stopped in a small clear spot. Leaves covered the ground. She held the gun with both hands. "Empty your pockets. Tell me the numbers for your cards or I shoot." Ryan handed over his wallet. "Take the cash. We do not want trouble." I gave her my phone and wallet too. My hands shook as I did it.
She looked at the cards. "The codes. Give them." Ryan shook his head. "We cannot do that." The woman stepped closer. Her face looked hard. "You will."
Ryan moved fast. He reached to his side and pulled out the small gun he carried for safety on the trip. "Drop yours," he yelled. Shots cracked loud. The woman fired back. Ryan fell to one knee. Blood showed on his shirt. I screamed his name. The woman yelled and ran into the thicker trees holding her side.
I sat down beside Ryan. "Stay alert. Help is on the way." I applied pressure to the wound. He was struggling to breathe. I picked up my phone that she had thrown to the ground and called 911. The signal was weak, but it went through. I told them where we were and what happened.
Help finally arrived after what seemed like an eternity. Ryan did not survive. The woman was apprehended later. She had been a part of a scheme with another individual who lived in a camp near by. They wanted cash and thought the road was empty enough to get away with it.
I remember that day every time I see an empty road. One stop changed everything.
Kindness goes a long way, but it is also important to be careful. Check your signal before pulling over. Let someone know where you are going. Have a means of calling for assistance.
"GRAVEL AFTER DARK":
I turned my car off the highway onto the paved road that passed through the national forest. The map indicated it was a forest service road with areas to pull over. No signs of other people for miles. Trees were on both sides, and the gravel crunched beneath the tires. I sought a place to sleep before continuing the next day.
After three miles, I noticed a level spot near a small creek. I pulled over and retrieved my backpack. I set up a camp spot and started a small fire for illumination. The air was still. No breeze stirred the limbs.
A man emerged from the trees a short distance away. He was wearing a jacket and had short hair. He appeared to be around fifty years old. “Evening,” he said in a calm tone. “I didn’t hear you drive up. I like to camp in this area from time to time.”
I remained by the campfire. “Just passing through for the night.”
He nodded and sat on a log nearby. “Good decision. The creek has fish if you’re interested in trying to catch some in the morning. How far did you come today?”
I told him the name of the town I had left that morning.
“You’re traveling alone?” he asked. “Most people bring someone along when they travel down roads like this. It’s safer that way.”
“Yes, alone,” I said.
He smiled. “I hike every bit of this road. Know it like my own backyard. Saw a car like yours a week ago. The driver left in a hurry, though. Said the silence got to him.”
We chatted a bit more. He told me about good places up ahead. “You have plans for tomorrow? Anyone know where you stopped?”
I kept my answers brief.
He stood up and looked at my car. “Nice setup you have. You do this often? The road gets visitors after dark sometimes. People who know the back ways in.”
I began to pack up my things. “I might move on soon.” I said.
“No rush,” he said. “Stay here. I can keep an eye out. Better with two around the fire.”
The fire was burning well. He came closer. “You sure no one waits for you? Roads out here can surprise you. I found things left behind before. Bags, keys, all sorts.”
I finished putting the last item in the car. “Thanks for the chat. I should go.”
He moved to the side of the car. “Wait. Open the door. I have something to show you from the creek. Might help you later.”
I shook my head. “I need to leave now.”
He placed one hand on the door handle. “Do not drive off yet. The road is dark. I can ride with you to the next turn. Show you the safe way.”
His voice was level but his eyes did not leave me. “People who camp here alone sometimes change their minds. Stay. It is better.”
I turned on the engine. He did not move away from the car right away.
I backed the car slowly and turned. He stood in the light from the headlights for a moment. “Come back if you need help,” he called. “I will be here.”
I drove down the road faster than I should have. The mirror showed no lights behind me. I kept going until the trees opened and I reached the highway with town lights ahead. My hands shook on the wheel the whole way.
I never stopped on a forest service road alone after that night.
"THE OVERLOOK LIE":
I parked my truck at the pullout where Caribou Road ends and the trail starts. The forest around Nederland was peaceful that day, with evergreen trees standing along the trail. I took my small backpack and headed out. Roots crossed the dirt trail under my feet, and the scent was fresh. I sought a short hike to shake my head before the long drive home.
After about thirty minutes of hiking, the trail gradually ascended. Then I heard the rumble of an engine. A white truck with roof lights appeared behind me and stopped. The driver lowered his window. He was about sixty, with a bald head and a thick grey beard. His green shirt had patches on the shoulders, the kind rescue teams wear.
"Hey," he shouted. "You alone out here? We received a call that someone was lost in the area. I'm with search and rescue. Have you seen any other hikers?"
I stopped and turned to him. "I'm fine. Not lost. Just out for a walk and heading back home soon."
He left his truck running. "These trails can deceive people quickly. Cell phones go dead after the first turn. Get in. I'll take you to the overlook a mile down the trail and leave you at your truck. No problem at all."
I declined. "No, thanks. I'll walk."
He smiled wider. "Come on. It's my duty. Last week, we assisted a man with a hurt ankle. Saved him hours. You look like you could use the ride anyway."
We kept talking for a minute. He asked how many times I hiked alone, said it took courage but the woods are empty fast. I told him I liked the peace. He nodded. "Peace is good until you need assistance. What town are you from?"
"From around here," I said.
"Good," he said. His fingers drummed on the wheel. "Family know you're out here?"
"No," I said.
"That's a shame," he said, still smiling. Something didn't feel right, but the truck looked authentic and he was wearing a shirt like rescuers wear. "Alright, just to the overlook," I said. I got into the passenger seat.
He started driving down the road, but after a brief interval he turned onto a small side trail that I hadn't noticed. Trees closed in on both sides. The road became rough.
"This isn't the way," I said to him.
"It's a shortcut," he said. His voice remained even. "Trust me."
The truck bounced rough. No sign of other people or vehicles in sight. I gripped the door handle hard. "Pull over. Let me out now."
He didn't slow down. Instead, he reached across and rested his hand on my leg. "No hurry. Let's talk more. No one else around."
I pushed his hand away. "Take your hand away. Pull over the truck."
He didn't. Instead, he reached across and grasped my wrist. "Don't struggle. This can remain simple if you just sit back."
A chill of fear ran through me. I pulled my arm away and punched his shoulder hard. The truck swerved. "Let me out!" I shouted.
He cursed and clutched tighter. I smacked the lock button with my other hand and swung the door open, kicking it wide. The truck was slow on the uneven terrain. I leaped out, headfirst, landed on the dirt, and rolled. My hip hurt, but I was up and standing right away.
He slammed on the brakes and leaped from his side. "Get back here, now!"
I ran directly into the dense trees. Limbs slapped my face and arms. His boots thundered behind me. "You can't hide! I know every trail in this area!"
My chest was on fire. I crouched low behind a large bush and froze. His footsteps came near, then stopped. "Well. Spoil out there," he yelled. His voice was mad.
I waited for what felt like a long time. Finally, the truck engine roared to life and drove away. I remained hidden another ten minutes, listening for every sound. Only the wind stirred the leaves.
I rose slowly and made my way back to the main trail, avoiding the side trail. My shirt was torn in places, and dirt clung to the scabs on my hands. When I reached my truck, I locked all the doors and left quickly. Every jolt stung my hip, but I pushed on.
In the town where my phone had reception, I pulled over and called the sheriff. I gave them every detail: the white truck with lights, the green shirt with patches, the bald head and grey beard, the fake rescue patter, the wrong turn, the grab.
Deputies arrived quickly. They took down every detail and examined the marks on my wrist and hip. They caught him weeks later. He'd done the same thing to other hikers.
I still hike in the woods, but I always let someone know my exact route now and I carry a loud whistle with me. That afternoon taught me how quickly a normal hike can turn ugly when the wrong person shows up. The trees look the same, but I pay closer attention to my own intuition. Escaping taught me that I can fight back when it matters.