“Really?” Oscar responded doubtfully. “That looks like a long way.”

“We saw those mountains yesterday,” Todd said, “and they look pretty big. How can we get over them?”

“There are a bunch of passes. I’ve been through a couple of them, coming in from the other side. I know the range looks big, but we can get over it, I promise. And once we do, it’s just a few miles down.”

“I don’t know,” Todd said, and kicked the dirt. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“It is,” Tracy replied, voice firmer now. “But it’s doable. I know it.”

“With as little food as we have? And no real sense of where we’re going? Not all of us may be up for it, Tracy.”

Gwen looked away; she must have realized that she was the weakest link. Oscar was silent, and Todd’s uncertainty increased his own fear.

“We can handle it,” Tracy said. “And we’ll make do with the food. Besides, what choice do we have?”

She was right, and they all knew she was right; they needed to walk out. They had to walk away from A.J. and his brother and whoever might come for José; away from their car at the trailhead; away from who and what they had been.

“We should stay on the trail for a while yet,” Todd said, “as long as it still follows this ridge.”

Tracy nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

“Hey, you guys, speaking of food, I need to eat something,” Gwen said, and Oscar realized that he was hungry too. He hadn’t noticed the growling in his stomach, the weakness in his limbs; his hunger had been obscured by exhaustion and fear.

“Why don’t you eat an energy bar?” Tracy suggested. “All of us should do that. But we should keep going—we don’t want to stay up here on top of this ridge. We’d be too easy of a target.”

The night was loosening its grip on the sky. Oscar noticed color and definition now, the blue of Todd’s pack, the red of Tracy’s jacket. The sun was still well behind the mountains, but the sky was turning gray. As he watched, the first spots of pink touched the bottom of the clouds. It was almost dawn.

“She’s right, we should keep moving,” Todd said. “When we get some miles behind us and reach a less exposed spot, we can stop for a proper breakfast.”

Oscar sensed Gwen’s frustration, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she bent over to unzip the lid of her pack and pulled out an energy bar. He did the same. Then they lifted on their packs and started to walk. They made their way along the level ridge, hiking fast, aware of how visible they’d become in the growing light. The clouds to the east were now a deep salmon. On their right they could see into the narrow canyon where they’d spent the afternoon and evening—not all the way down to the bottom, but far enough to make out a few of the granite ledges and outcroppings. Somewhere down there was José’s body. They’d talked of burying it, or covering it, but decided they didn’t have time, and Oscar, despite his anger at the kid, had felt bad about leaving him there. At least he’d be more easily found, he reasoned.

The trail bent right, then straightened out again, departing one ridge and following another before angling gently down a slope. Oscar breathed a sigh of relief when they dipped beneath the second ridge—no one could see them unless they were standing directly below. Eventually this trail would lead to Lost Canyon.

They were just starting to settle into a comfortable pace when there was a flurry of movement behind them. Gwen gasped and Oscar jumped and they all looked back, just in time to see a flash of white fur whip around the bend, a feathery waving tail.

“Jesus Christ!” Oscar exclaimed. “That scared the hell out of me!”

The dog jumped up on him—panting, smiling—then ran to greet Gwen, Todd, and Tracy. She play-bowed and gave her strange, muffled bark again, then bolted in a fast circle around them. She sashayed back over to Gwen, offering her backside, and when Gwen didn’t immediately lean over to pet her, she flipped onto her back, twisting and grunting, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

Tracy glanced back down the trail. “Fuck, I wonder if A.J.’s behind her.”

But there was no one. This was strange. A.J.’s dog, but no A.J. She’d disappeared by the time they’d finished tying him up. Where had she gone? And what did her presence mean now?

“I don’t think he’s with her,” Todd said. “I think she just followed us.”

“Well, that’s a little weird, don’t you think?” Oscar said.

“Not necessarily.” Todd bent over and called the dog to him. She ran over, tail between her legs with just the very tip wiggling. She pressed the side of her face into his leg and swung herself around so that more of her body was touching him. Todd scratched her ears, ran his hand over her head, patted her on the side. She looked up at him adoringly, tongue hanging out in bliss.

“She’s not bonded to him. If she were, there’s no way she would have let us handle him like we did. Makes sense—he’s only had her for a few weeks, right? And he wasn’t exactly treating her nicely.”

He bent over and the dog jumped up to lick him, so quick and hard that she jabbed him in the face. He pulled up, spitting, laughing. She scooted close to him again, then burst away and ran another loop, moving in quick, jerky motions.

“She’s a little crazy, huh?” Tracy commented.

“She’s a border collie,” Todd said. “It’s part of the job description. Plus, I think she’s still a pup. She’s probably not more than ten or twelve months old.”

“Well, what do we do with her?” Oscar asked. Sure, she was cute, but this was no time to be worried about lost dogs. They needed to get moving again, and fast.

“We don’t need to do anything. We can see if she follows us.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tracy said. “What if she runs back and leads A.J. to where we are? Or someone else, for that matter. She might not be attached to A.J.—but who’s to say she’s not attached to his brother? She could give away our location just by barking.”

“Her vocal cords have been cut,” Todd said. “That’s why she doesn’t have a voice.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Gwen asked, disgusted.

Todd shrugged. “I guess A.J. didn’t like the barking.” He sighed. “Look, let’s let her come along. If she stays with us, she won’t be able to help anyone else.”

They were all quiet for a moment, considering this.

“She’ll have to eat,” Tracy said now, breaking the silence. “And we’re short of food already. I don’t know, Todd. I’d rather just leave her here. Tie her to a tree.”

“That didn’t work the first time. And if someone finds her, then they’ll really know we were here.”

The dog was sitting between them now, looking at them earnestly, as if she knew they were discussing her fate. Her ears were standing straight up on her head, tips falling over slightly. Each time someone spoke, one ear swiveled in that person’s direction. Gwen bent to pet her but when she raised her arm, the dog fell to her side and cowered.

“It’s okay,” Gwen reassured her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She knelt and petted the dog, who pressed her head against Gwen’s hand and touched her with her paw. “We can’t leave her.” Gwen looked up at all of them, and then back down at the dog, and for the first time in what seemed like days, she smiled.

Oscar watched this, unsure what to think. There were so many stray dogs running through Glassell Park that he’d hardened his heart against them. A couple of his neighbors were always picking them up and taking them to the animal shelter, but he just tried to avoid them, especially when he had Lily. He’d taught her never to approach a loose dog, and had cursed the irresponsible people who didn’t secure their yards, or who abandoned dogs up in the hills. His vote would have been to leave this dog behind.

“Look,” Todd said, “she didn’t do anything to protect A.J. last night, and she just ran miles in the dark to catch up with us. I think it’s pretty clear she wants to be with us. Let’s just keep going. I think it’s going to be okay.”