Gwen wasn’t so sure—this is exactly what Tracy had said before. Maybe there was yet another canyon beyond these peaks. Maybe the mountains went on forever. But what she said was, “And what are you going to do?”

Tracy shrugged, or tried to; every movement brought a grimace. “Stay here in the shade with Oscar. Get more water at the stream if we need it. And keep an eye out for Todd.” She managed a pained smile. “This has been great, Gwen. The best trip ever. It’s just like I always imagined.”

Tracy was losing it. Or maybe she had lost it a long time ago. But the thought of Todd catching up to them eased Gwen’s mind a bit—their one other unhurt member.

“Should we all just wait for Todd?” Gwen asked. How far behind was he? Two hours? Three? But there was no way to know which way he’d cross the canyon—he might miss them altogether. Then she looked at Oscar, curled on the ground, the dried blood dark on his shirt. He didn’t move and she stared for ten, twenty seconds before she saw that he was breathing. There wasn’t a minute to waste.

“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll go.” She struggled to get up and then swung her pack on. There wasn’t much weight to it anymore. But even if there had been, even if it was full, she had a feeling she’d be able to handle it.

“Good,” Tracy said. “And take the gun.” She reached for her waistband.

“No, I don’t want it.”

“You need it, Gwen. You don’t know who you might run into.”

“I don’t know what to do with it, Tracy.”

“What do you mean? Just use it if you have to.”

“No way. I’d probably hurt myself.”

Tracy paused. “Then at least take the bear spray. Or you’ll be totally defenseless.”

Gwen stood for a moment, considering. Finally she reached over to take the canister that Tracy held out and stuffed it into the lid of her pack. When she was ready to go, she looked down at Tracy and Oscar. Tracy was huddled over again, Oscar was on his side, both lost in their private worlds of pain. Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. Would they get out of this alive? “I’ll see you in the Owens Valley,” she said.

She left the trees and walked back into the open, using her single pole. She was now at the base of a slope even steeper than the one they’d climbed that morning. It appeared to be solid granite and as she looked back and forth, she thought, No way. She felt alone, more alone than she’d ever been—even the dog, after taking a few tentative steps, had turned back and stayed with the others. But as she studied the wall she realized it wasn’t really vertical. Steep, yes, but with rock steps and little plateaus; if she picked her way carefully, she could climb it.

She started south, the wall of mountain to her left, the canyon to the right. She stepped onto granite ledges as big as truck beds, as patios, and onto narrow flats of dirt and rock between them. There were stretches of twenty or thirty feet where she was able to walk level, scanning the rocks above her for an entry. Then she’d step onto the next shelf, or pull herself up, finding footholds or cracks that she could squeeze between, broken-off bits of rock to use as stairs. At first she was conscious of how big this all was. She had always been with Tracy or Devon when she’d ventured outdoors, had never gone for a hike by herself. And now here she was, completely alone, deep in the Sierras, trying to scale a slope whose top she couldn’t see, with the lives of her friends in her hands. It was ridiculous, unthinkable. She’d never be able to do it.

But as she slowly gained elevation, moving left and right, she began to forget their predicament, the lack of food and water, even the men who’d been after them with guns. She was absorbed in the challenge of what she was doing, solving puzzles, gaining five feet by moving up between two rocks, ten by walking diagonally across a broken slab of granite. Once she reached a huge boulder that had been split right down the middle. It looked like a Venus flytrap or two clamshell halves, which might lure her in and then clamp shut. She walked around it and moved on. At times she’d have to reach up and grab onto a bit of rock, and she was surprised by how her arms looked, dirt-streaked and darker and lined with muscles that hadn’t been there a week before. When she looked behind her, she was amazed to see how much height she had gained, the basin now well below her, the trees like scrubby bushes on the ground. This gave her confidence—if she’d gained this much elevation in so short a time, maybe she could make it to the top. She stopped and breathed deeply and was surprised to find she wasn’t tired. There was new energy coursing through her, her veins seemed filled with fresh blood; her lungs took in greater gulps of air. Standing there, staring out over the canyon, she had an image of what she looked like—ragged and dirty, yes. But solid and strong. A human being at the height of her physical strength, working with and not against her surroundings.

She moved northeast now, taking what the mountain gave her. Fifteen minutes later she reached a dead end. A sheer vertical cliff, unscalable, angling out so she couldn’t get around it. She looked left, no way around. Right was no better. It was like a door had slammed down, closing off any forward path. She tilted her head back and peered up, shading her eyes with her hand. The cliff was more than fifty feet high, dirt and rock, no obvious footholds. A set of roots dangled out the side of it, like the frayed ends of a wire. She cursed herself for not taking the rock-climbing class that Tracy had told her about, for not learning how to read this cliff face like a sheet of music. Just looking up at the top of it sent a shiver through her body. She would have to retrace her steps.

Shaking her head, cursing, she headed back the other way, moving over ground she’d already covered. Then she reached the place where she’d chosen the route that led to the wall. She remembered why—the other way did not look promising. A steep rock face she’d have to shimmy across in order to gain the next ledge. She surveyed the scene in front of her: Directly up was another vertical wall. Down and around might get her to a better vantage point—or lead her all the way back to the canyon floor. Going right seemed like the best bet, but it did not look very inviting. Rock outcroppings, like bulbous growths on the side of the mountain, brown and red, maybe volcanic. It looked like a giant pile of porridge, and about that stable too. There were places to step, sure—it was not a flat wall—but only small ones, with a sheer drop of a hundred feet. And her toes were so swollen and painful she didn’t trust them to hold her. If she fell or got hurt and couldn’t go on, they might all be lost. Gwen could see, though, that if she could get beyond the outcroppings, there was solid granite shelving above.

She collapsed her one pole and stuck it into her pack. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Then she took one step off the flat rock and onto a three-inch ledge. It held. With her hand she grabbed onto a piece of jutting rock and slowly brought her left foot over. She shuffled sideways, stepping carefully with her right foot and putting her weight down, then reaching out with her right hand, repeating the movement with her left. She ventured out ten feet, twenty. Her fingers were raw from the popped blisters but she ignored the pain. Then a rock broke off in her right hand and pulled away from the wall, and she gripped tight with her left and held. The rock bounced off the wall just past her foot; she heard it falling down the side of the cliff. She glanced down despite herself and saw open space; the rock finally crashed to a stop somewhere below. She found a solid hold with her right hand and hugged the rock face, breathing hard; her heart beat so violently she thought the force of it might push her off the wall. This was a bad idea, she thought. Maybe I should go back. But when she looked left she couldn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten to where she was; it was as if the holds had made themselves visible only for the moment that she’d needed them, and had since been reabsorbed into the rock. She looked above and found an overhang; no passage there. She looked to her right and saw some possible holds—but after her near fall, how could she trust them? She closed her eyes for a moment and felt the panic welling up in her chest. Hold it together, she thought. Hold it together. You’ve made it this far, you’ve got to trust yourself.