It appeared on Old Glen Road. A yellow, diamond-shaped hazard sign. No image, just text.

CAUTION: FALLING ROCKS

But the sign wasn't near any rocks. Or any place rocks could fall from. Old Glen Road cut through an expanse of flat woods that went on for miles.

“Meanwhile, there’s probably some road next to a cliff with a deer crossing sign,” my wife said, when I pointed it out.

“Ha! Well, I hope they fix it soon. It bothers me.”

“You could always just, like, roll a boulder on someone. Then the sign would be correct.”

“Wow… okay…”

We both laughed and thought the sign would be gone the next day.

But weirdly enough, the sign stayed up through the weeks, then months. I drove past it every morning on my way to work. It became an inside joke between Rebecca and me: Leaving now, love you! Bye, honey, watch out for falling rocks!

Then the accident happened.

It must’ve happened just a few minutes before I got there. Three police cars were blocking Old Glen Road, lights flashing. And behind them, in the distance… I could make out an enormous rock.

And the crumpled blue metal underneath.

We saw it on the local news channel later that evening. “A car was struck by a falling rock on Old Glen Road this afternoon,” the newscaster said. “Paramedics attempted to rescue the driver, Alison Marcetta, but it was too late. She was pronounced dead at the scene.”

I didn’t know what to say. How could a rock fall on that road? It just wasn’t possible. It was flat, dense woods as far as the eye could see. A few random houses here and there.

That was it.

“Maybe it’s like those magic gravity hills. Like, there’s a slope, but it looks like flat land, and then a rock in the woods rolled down and hit her,” Rebecca said.

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe it was dropped by an animal. Well, not dropped, but kicked or pushed, and then it rolled into the road.”

I looked at her. “What kind of animal would be strong enough to move a two-ton boulder?”

She shrugged. “A bear?”

I stared at the TV, showing the same clip of the crushed blue metal under the gigantic rock.

Then I grabbed the remote and switched it off.

“Whatever. I’m taking a different route to work tomorrow.”

***

For the next two weeks, I avoided Old Glen Rd. at all costs. Whatever black magic fuckery was going on there, I didn’t want to be a part of it.

But I couldn’t ignore it when, again, the local news station was dominated by the story of another victim.

“Local senior George Rodriguez…”

It was the same story. A boulder had fallen from somewhere and crushed the poor man on his way to the library.

And the weird thing was, nobody seemed to be talking about it. “You hear about that horrible accident?” I asked my neighbor, when I ran into him getting the mail. “On Old Glen Road?”

“Oh, with the boulder? Terrible. So tragic.”

“Yeah, but…”

I hesitated. It seemed kind of disrespectful, in poor taste, for me to start saying how impossible it was. I felt like Roy in that one episode of *IT Crowd—*when he wants to ask his girlfriend how her parents died in a fire at SeaParks, but can’t. How could a fire break out when there’s water everywhere? How could a boulder roll out and kill someone, when the land is completely flat?!

“But what?” Roger looked at me, expectantly.

“How could a rock roll on him? The road, the forest, it’s all flat.”

He scowled at me. “What are you suggesting?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He waited for me to say more, but I didn’t. What was I suggesting? That someone had lifted a boulder and dropped it on the guy’s car? That there was some sort of serial killer Hercules on the loose in our town?

“Nevermind,” I said, shaking my head.

But later that afternoon, I found myself bored. Rebecca had gone out with some friends, and the house was too quiet for my liking. So I grabbed an old baseball from the attic, got in the car, and set out to Old Glen Road.

The road was quiet and empty when I arrived. No doubt, the reports of the strange accidents had scared people away. I pulled off on the shoulder and stepped out.

I walked into the middle of the street and set the ball down.

It didn’t roll.

I walked about fifty feet into the forest on either side and did the same thing. You could blame the leaf litter and uneven terrain for the lack of rolling, I guess. But there didn’t seem to be any kind of slope anywhere.

And—to add further to the absurdity of it—I didn’t even see any big rocks. I mean, back when I lived in upstate New York, there were rocks everywhere. The forests were full of cliffs and boulders and all that stuff. There was a quarry a half-hour away from me, and an old mine.

But here…

Nothing. Just trees and logs and leaves as far as the eye could see.

I glanced back at the sign. Despite the dying light, the letters were clear. CAUTION: FALLING ROCKS. I looked up, as if I expected to see a huge boulder sitting there in the tree, but of course there wasn’t.

So I began walking back to my car—

And that’s when I heard it.

The snap of a twig behind me.

For a second I imagined a huge boulder, rolling towards me through the forest. Indiana Jones-style, leveling trees and flattening birds as it made its fatal descent.

But it wasn’t a boulder—it was a person.

A police officer.

“Hello,” he called out as he approached.

“Hi,” I replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

He made his way through the forest to where I was. Only now did I notice the police cruiser parked behind my own car.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked. He was smiling congenially, but I could tell the question was more of an accusation. What are you doing out here? Tell me, now.

“No, I’m just… taking a walk.”

“Kind of an odd place to take a walk,” he said, as he took a step towards me. “The park’s just half a mile down the road.”

He was still smiling. But his eyes bored into mine, as if analyzing every detail of my response. “I—well—to tell the truth, I’m scared of dogs,” I stuttered. “And that park is overrun with dogs. And quite a few people leave their dogs off their leashes…”

“I see.”

Why am I so nervous? I felt hot. Sweaty. The officer’s eyes continued to bore into mine—then broke eye contact to look me up and down, taking in every detail. Finally, his ice blue eyes met mine again.

“Well, I regret to inform you that this is private property. You can’t be walking here.”

“Oh, I didn’t see any signs…” I trailed off. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave.”

“Thanks,” he said, with a sharp nod of his head.

Then he spun on his heel and walked back to the car. As I stumbled back through the forest, I noticed him watching me from behind the tinted glass, his blue eyes tracking my every move.

As soon as I shut the door, I let out a sigh of relief.

He didn’t see it.

Before doing all that testing with the baseball, I’d done something crazy. Something Rebecca would chew me out for, if she knew.

I’d tucked a little webcam into one of the trees by the road.

***

The next accident came only five days later. A young couple, Andrea and John Chen, were killed late last night while driving home from the airport.

My webcam looked like it had caught footage of the crash. One of the clips was timestamped at 11:23 pm—around the right time, according to local news outlets.

Do I really want to watch this?

My cursor hovered over the play button. Rebecca won’t be home until nine thirty. This is your only chance.

I have to know.

I don’t know what I expected to see—but it certainly wasn’t what unfolded before me.

The darkness of Old Glen Road, and the surrounding forest, slowly brightened on screen as the car approached. Then white headlights popped into view on the left side of the screen. I held my breath, waiting for the boulder to fall—

CRACK.

The car swerved wildly—then plowed into a nearby tree.

But there was no rock. I squinted at the screen, trying to figure out what had just happened. What caused the sound, caused the car to suddenly crash. But then—

CRACK! CRACK!

The passenger side window shattered.

Gunshots.

I watched in horror as several figures swarmed out of the forest. One still held his gun steady, trained on the car. Another ran to the window, peered in, and then gave some sort of hand signal to the man holding the gun.

I recognized him.

It was the police officer.

Several minutes of commotion. The figures ran around the scene, putting up yellow tape, whispering to each other. Then a great shadow passed over the road, as some sort of truck drove into the frame. No, wait—it was a forklift.

A forklift, carrying a large boulder.

I watched in horror as it raised the rock up—and dropped it on the car.

CRUNCH.

My hands shook as I closed out of the video. And then I sat there, stunned, staring at the computer screen.

I don’t know how long I sat there. But now, it’s almost ten, and Rebecca still isn’t home. I know I shouldn’t be worried—Rebecca is often late—but I can’t help that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe he did see me put the webcam there.

Maybe he knows.