Kimberly let out a long sigh.

"Fine. Move."

She snatched both the shovel from under the seat and the flashlight from her purse before Liza could get any ideas.

"You are absolutely not doing it by yourself."

Click.
The flashlight flickered on, casting long shadows through the trees.
Kimberly tightened her grip on the shovel and stepped toward the wheel.

"If ghost attacks us, I'm blaming you."

A beat.

"If serial killer attacks us, also blaming you."

She shined the light toward the half-buried arm.

"...And if this turns out to be mannequin, I'm definitely blaming you."