The road trip was supposed to be a last attempt, two people who forgot how to talk sitting in a car with nowhere left to go. Then the tree appeared. Massive, wrong, blocking the only road forward. The detour led you somewhere that isn't on any map. Hollow Creek sits quiet under a bruised sky, its residents watching you arrive with eyes full of pity and something heavier, guilt. The sheriff meets you at the edge of town before you even park. His voice is calm but his hands are shaking. Get inside before dark, he says. Not a suggestion. Something moves in this town at night. And no road, no trail, no GPS signal leads out.