<\/div>\n
At first, he thought it was roadkill. He almost didn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n
But then, something moved.<\/p>\n
He parked his Harley, walked closer, and stepped into what looked like a red puddle. When he crouched down, the world slowed.<\/p>\n
The storm had passed, but the highway was still slick under the gray morning light.<\/p>\n
Cole Dawson<\/strong>, a 44-year-old biker with weathered hands and a scar above his eyebrow, was heading home from a charity ride in Missouri. His boots splashed through puddles as he checked his tires. That\u2019s when he saw it \u2014 something dark near the shoulder of the road.<\/p>\n At first, he thought it was roadkill. He almost didn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n But then, something moved.<\/p>\n He parked his Harley, walked closer, and stepped into what looked like a red puddle. When he crouched down, the world slowed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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