Jeffrey took Jane’s hand and headed for the gate. He was now certain that someone, somewhere in the shadowy winter’s night, had spotted his broken-down 4×4 at the side of the road. At the very edge of his vision, he could make out the outline of a man standing at the roadside.
The only thing he could do was disappear into the forest with his shivering twelve-year-old daughter.
They ran among the gnarled trees that surrounded Winchester Forest.
Navigating the sharp brambles and the uneven forest floor proved difficult, and doing so quietly was impossible. Every snapped twig cracked like a gunshot, every gust of wind through the branches seemed to announce their presence. There was no comfort here. Finally, out of breath, they found a mound of blackened clay—just tall enough to crouch behind.
Peering around the edge of the mound at intervals was the only way Jeff could tell if they were still being followed. Nothing stirred. No figure emerged. They waited, whispering what little comfort they could muster. Minutes passed. Jeff began to reason that the mysterious figure had either walked past their hiding place or returned to his own vehicle.
Unsure of what to do, he knew he had to do something.
This is where I came in.
I had been a Winchester Park Ranger for twelve years, and the call I received that night is one I will never forget. It began with an unusual transmission.
“Ranger W6. Two bodies found at Winchester Forest on Arlington Road. Area code WX17248. W6 unit, respond immediately.”
I grabbed the radio and replied, “Received. W6 en route.”
But no sooner had the words left my mouth than I realised something wasn’t right.
I called back on the same frequency. Nothing.
It was strange—deeply so—but I also knew I had to get to the scene. The tyres of my Ford F-150 struggled for traction on the dirt as I pulled out of the layby where I’d been sitting on what had been, until then, a quiet winter’s evening.
As I drove, I imagined what awaited me—expecting the local sheriff, flashing lights, emergency vehicles colouring the trees like some unhinged version of Christmas.
Then, without warning, Google Maps interrupted the silence.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
The shrill voice startled me.
There was nobody there.
Ahead, I could make out the outlines of two vehicles pulled in at the roadside. Confused, I parked behind them.
I tried the radio again. “W6 responding to Winchester Dispatch.”
Still nothing.
Reluctantly, I took the torch from the glove compartment and stepped out of the truck. I inspected the vehicles first: a battered old pickup—possibly red, though it was hard to tell in the torchlight—and a 4×4 in front of it, both doors wide open. Shining the beam inside the 4×4, I noticed a bracelet lying on the passenger seat.
Then I heard movement—branches snapping at the forest’s edge.
I swung the torch toward the sound.
Standing there, alone, was a young girl.
I couldn’t see her face.
“Are you okay?” I called.
She didn’t respond. She simply stood there—hooded, motionless, faceless in the dark.
I approached slowly, careful not to frighten her. My heart hammered in my chest as I extended my hand.
When I finally saw her face, I realised something was terribly wrong.
It wasn’t human at all.
