It's 3 AM on a July night, somewhere west of Bonneville. Luna picks up a teenage girl at the Salt Flats Overlook, no bags, no jacket, just a pair of sunglasses she won't take off. The girl says she's fine, says she's just headed to Ely, says she doesn't need to call anyone. But every time Luna glances in the rearview, the girl is staring at her own reflection in the window, whispering something that sounds like counting. The farther they drive, the quieter the girl gets, and the more Luna notices: there's no reflection in the window. Only the girl's face pressed against the glass, mouth moving, saying numbers. By the time they reach the Nevada state line, Luna realizes the girl has been counting backward from a thousand. She stopped at seven hundred and three. And then she vanished.