The corn was something different at night. If animals used it as cover during the day, all sorts of nocturnal critters were doing the same thing at night. She’d rather not run into a coyote or badger. But the danger excited her.
I imagine this again and again: on a raft, in a passenger car, I’m crouching or sitting and there in the creek, beside the tracks, I see an object but can’t tell what it is, a thing obscured by the murk of the water, the speed of the train. A large rock, or a fallen tree, or broken concrete with rebar, or a wooden box. I don’t want to think it could be a body.