Someone was there, sitting back against a tree, his head falling forward. There was a cap on his head, covering his face. Todd felt a jolt of adrenaline go through him; his heart beat so loudly he was sure it was audible. It was too dark still to make out anything else—the color of the clothes, any features. But it was definitely a man, sleeping with a rifle across his knees. A man who had tried to kill them.

Todd stepped clear of the boulder and slowly lifted his rifle, raising the butt to his shoulder. He was exposed, but he didn’t feel any fear. His target was asleep and laid out perfectly. I am about to kill a man, he thought. There was no question that he had to do it. He lifted the rifle and set his eyes to the sight. He put the capped head in the crossbars. Lord Jesus, help me hold steady, and please forgive me, he prayed. Then he held the rifle still and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Sixteen

Gwen

Gwen jumped when she heard the gunshot, even though she’d been expecting it for hours. She looked at Tracy, supporting Oscar from the downhill side. Oscar himself didn’t react.

“That sounds like Todd’s rifle,” Tracy said.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. It’s the same sound as when A.J. used it.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Gwen. “But we haven’t heard the signal.”

They stood quietly, staring down into the valley, toward the lake and the woods, which were starting to reveal themselves in the light. The dog stopped and looked too, ears erect, sniffing the air. If it wasn’t Todd who’d fired the weapon, they’d be in a bad spot—caught out on the slope with no tree or rock cover, still well below the pass. They’d expected to be up and over it by now, and on their way to safety. But it had been slow going with Oscar. They’d left not long after Todd had, moving in a chain, Tracy on the downhill side, Oscar in middle, Gwen above them both. She was glad to be moving, doing something, and it kept them from being cold; the temperature had dropped with the coming of dark. They’d ditched Oscar’s pack, Tracy taking on his few items of clothing and food. But everything about their movement was awkward. The loose rock beneath their feet kept giving way; Gwen would lose hold of Oscar or else fall into him, causing him to cry out in pain. Twice Gwen tripped and fell; once all three of them stumbled. Both she and Tracy had use of a pole, which stabilized their chain. She hadn’t been able to see Oscar’s face in the dark—they hadn’t turned on their headlamps—and she was glad for this, glad not to witness his pain, although she heard it in every grunt and moan and felt it in his staggering movements.

Several minutes passed and Gwen feared that something was wrong. But then they heard it—two more shots in quick succession, the sound welling up out of the canyon, filling and overflowing it like fog.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Gwen said. She thought of all the gunshots she’d heard in her life, some of them far too close. She’d never thought that she would welcome the sound.

“Way to go, Todd!” Tracy said. She pumped her fist in the air, pole dangling off it by the strap. “Oscar, did you hear that? Todd got A.J.! Just a little bit farther and we’ll be over the pass. Then down the other side, and we’re out!”

Oscar nodded—or was it a nod? Gwen couldn’t tell. He was having a hard time standing, and Gwen’s eyes filled as she looked at his scraped, sallow face, his ripped and bloody shirt. He only had shorts on and he was shivering, the jacket draped over his good shoulder not enough against the cold. She didn’t know if he could make it.

“Let’s rest for a minute,” Gwen said. “I need some water and some calories and Oscar could probably use some too.”

“Okay,” Tracy said. “But not for too long. We need to get out of sight. On the off chance that it wasn’t Todd just now.”

They slowly turned to face downhill and positioned themselves on the slope, like children in a single-file line. They dug in footholds so they wouldn’t slip as they sat. Tracy was on the downhill side, ready to stop Oscar or Gwen should either one slide. Oscar was still in the middle, resting his feet in the footholds that Tracy had kicked for him. Gwen was uphill, the tallest for once, looking down at the others and beyond. The dog sat at her side, front paws lower than her bottom as she balanced on the slope.

Gwen drank from her water bottle, which was only a third full, but they’d be over the pass soon, and Tracy said there were streams on the eastern side. She ate half of a protein bar—they’d finished the last of their dinners overnight, crouched behind the rocks. She offered part of the bar to Oscar, but he didn’t respond.

“You’ve got to,” she said. “Eat it, Oscar. Even if you’re not hungry.”

The dog sat up and reached for the food, and Gwen pulled it back. She moved closer to Oscar and fed him while Tracy held Timber by her collar. The dog’s eyes watched every movement; two long strings of saliva hung from her mouth. Gwen felt for her, but there was so little food. Still, she broke off a bite and gave it to her.

“What should we do?” she asked. “Should we wait for Todd here? Should we at least hang around until we see him?”

Tracy shook her head. “No. We’re too exposed. We need to get over the pass. Besides, he’ll catch up. He’s only a couple hours behind.”

Gwen knew she was right—and on top of all that, there was also the unstated but obvious: Oscar had lost a lot of blood, and it wasn’t clear how long he’d stay conscious.

“Okay,” said Gwen. It felt so good to sit down. Her feet were sore and swollen, but she told herself to ignore the pain. They hadn’t slept since their extended nap yesterday morning, and she was tired to the bone. But looking up, she saw that the pass now seemed within reach. It formed an edge against the light blue sky. A mile away at most. They could do it, she thought, gunshot victim or not. They were so close, so close to heading home.

There was a faint sound coming up from the canyon now, like someone chopping wood.

“What is that?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know.”

They listened and it continued for a few seconds more. Gwen wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant, but it made her uneasy.

“Let’s get moving,” Tracy said, and so slowly, reluctantly, Gwen pulled herself up, using her pole to brace herself so she wouldn’t slip. She and Tracy removed their jackets and then helped Oscar get to his feet. They walked on in the same formation. The terrain was suddenly steeper here, thirty-five or forty degrees, and they’d only gone a hundred feet or so when the ground gave way beneath Tracy’s feet.

Gwen heard her yell “Whoa!” and just like that she was gone, sliding feetfirst down the slope on her belly. She reached out frantically to grab something but there was nothing to hold; it was as if she was sliding down a ski jump. She wasn’t moving especially fast; she just couldn’t stop herself, and there was a particular horror in the mundaneness of her predicament. Gwen saw that Tracy might slide all the way to the canyon floor, more than a thousand feet below. She might have no skin left when she stopped. Then her foot hit some kind of protuberance and she flipped onto her back. Her pack came off but she managed to grab or dig at something so she at least turned sideways, picking up speed as she continued to slide.

Then abruptly she hit a boulder. It caught her violently in the midsection and her body wrapped around it, limp as a rag doll. Her pole tumbled past her. For a moment she didn’t move, and Gwen’s heart seized with dread and disbelief.