On the other side of the lake they climbed up onto another flat area. More peaks were starting to come out of the shadows and reveal themselves, like stage actors stepping into the light. Now they could see the lush green of the land, of the small meadow they were approaching. Springing from the green were wildflowers, purple and yellow and red, in shades so full and pure it was as if the rest of the world’s color was muted. He saw a cluster of lupine, not fully in bloom, each tubelike flower bright purple on top but still green at the bottom; they looked like caterpillars emerging from their cocoons. He shook his head at the strangeness of it all. This was a kind of beauty that few people ever saw. And at any moment he could be shot, he could be dead.

“What’s that?” Gwen asked suddenly, pointing to the ground with her pole.

Todd looked down at a huge pile of scat, dark brown and loose, as big as a pile of pine cones. Interspersed in it were bits of grass, and red berries, which seemed to have passed through the creature whole. “That,” he said, “would be bear scat.”

Tracy nodded. “We’re not the only ones who needed water.”

The muscles in Gwen’s jaws tightened, and even Todd felt a twinge of nerves. The bear hair on the tree could have been left at any time. This scat, though, suggested a bear was still close by. He glanced over at Tracy to make sure the bear spray was still clipped to her belt.

“How recent?” Gwen asked.

Tracy bent over and examined it. “It’s not super fresh, but it’s not old, either. I’d say it’s from within the last twelve hours.”

“Don’t worry,” Todd said, sounding more confident than he felt. “He’s likely to avoid us. We’re scarier to him than he is to us.”

“I don’t know, man,” said Oscar. “You guys keep saying that, but there were those killings just this year, in Yellowstone.”

“Those were grizzly bears,” Todd said, echoing Tracy’s reassurance of earlier. “Not black bears. We don’t have grizzlies in California.”

“And if they do come around,” Tracy added, patting the gun tucked into her belt, “we can always take care of them.”

“There’s no need for that,” Todd said. Why did she have to be like this? He was so angry at Tracy, and at himself, for allowing her to convince them to take an unused trail. For letting himself get carried away by someone else’s madness. “Besides, we don’t need to be shooting any guns. That’ll lead whoever’s out here straight to us.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Let’s not even joke about it.”

“Well, at least we have bear spray.”

The dog, who’d still been running ahead, now came back. She approached the pile of scat and sniffed it curiously. Then she looked up at them, tail and ears lowered.

“See,” Gwen said, “even she knows to be afraid.”

But then the dog took off again, shooting ahead of them. “Let’s follow her lead and get going,” Todd said.

They continued through the valley, the full sun now in their faces, the air feeling thick and uncomfortable. Every few minutes Todd looked back at the slope behind them, which seemed farther and farther away. No sign of life.

They reached a second stand of woods, near the end of the valley; it felt wonderful to be out of the sun. They walked on until they reached a small clearing. Three huge boulders made up the edges on the near and left sides. Even if someone approached from the way they’d come, he could walk up to the boulders and not know they were there.

“This is a good spot to take a break.” Todd stopped near a tree that had grown around a rock; it looked like a tired old woman who’d sat down to rest.

“These are amazing,” Gwen said, looking up at the top of the largest boulder. It was as tall as a two-story house. “How the hell did they get here?”

“Glaciers,” Todd replied. “They’re called erratics. They got carried down on a floe of ice.”

“Like a bottle carried by the tide.”

“Exactly.”

They set down their packs, wandered off to relieve themselves, came back, and collapsed by the boulders. Tracy set up the stove and boiled water. The others had oatmeal but Todd needed something more substantial, so he ate a freeze-dried dinner. He’d started to get shaky from exhaustion and hunger; he’d never realized so clearly the relationship between food and the use of physical energy.

“That was delicious,” Oscar said, finishing up.

“I’m glad.” Tracy rattled her spoon in her bowl. “Because that’s the end of the oatmeal. Except for the one that Todd didn’t eat.”

“What?” Oscar said.

“We’re going to be out by tonight, so I only brought one for each of us.”

“Well, what else do we have left?” Gwen asked.

“Whatever you have left. You all have at least one freeze-dried dinner, right? And whatever snacks you brought.”

A somberness descended on all of them.

“I’m pretty much out of snacks,” said Oscar. “I think I have half an energy bar.”

“I just ate my last dinner,” Todd said.

“You can share mine if you want,” Gwen offered. “I have that and some Luna Bars.”

“I have some jerky and my dinner. And a couple of bars.” Tracy paused. “Look, we’ll be fine. We’ll be over that range tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. As long as we’ve got water, we can make it a day without food.”

Oscar didn’t look convinced. Gwen either. Todd knew that Tracy was right, but he was still annoyed—they should have talked about this before they left their stuff. But right now, he was too tired to think about their food supply and how much farther they had to go. He had eaten a real meal for the first time in twenty hours, and the heaviness of sleep was upon him.

“Why don’t we rest here for a bit,” he suggested.

“Great idea,” Gwen agreed.

“I think we should keep going,” Tracy said. “We have momentum now.”

“Tracy,” Gwen said deliberately, “I know we’re in a hurry. I get it. But I’m so tired I can barely walk straight. We have a big uphill climb coming, and if I don’t get some rest, I’m never going to be able to do it.” She petted the dog absentmindedly; even the dog seemed to agree. She was spread out on her side, feet twitching, fast asleep.

“She’s right,” Todd said. “Let’s everyone recover a bit. Take a nap, you guys. Oscar, can you set your alarm? We’ll leave again in an hour.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, looking relieved. He fiddled with his watch.

Tracy shrugged, but relented. “All right.”

Todd set the rifle down within arm’s reach. It was only a .22 caliber, and pretty old at that—but at least it would provide a measure of protection. He lay down where he was, using his pack as a pillow and the lid of his cap to shade his eyes. Now that they weren’t moving the air was cool, and the breeze felt good on his face. A few small rocks pressed into his back, but he was too exhausted to care. Almost as soon as his eyes were closed, he fell asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Gwen

A cold, wet nose against her jawbone, a whiskery muzzle, a warm tongue licking her skin. Gwen yelled, “Hey!” and pushed the dog from her, but when Timber saw that Gwen was awake, she rushed in again, grunting happily. For a moment Gwen forgot why she was there—and then she remembered everything. Their hike, the wrong turn, José, and then A.J.; the confused and hurried nighttime hiking. She looked at her watch: 1:17. Shit! They had stopped at nine thirty, had laid down around ten, and were supposed to rest for an hour. What happened?

“Hey, you guys!” she called out, struggling to get up through her soreness. “Hey! We slept too long! We need to get going!”