Page 32 of One Step Too Far

“Do you want that?”

Miggy appears genuinely startled. “Aren’t I supposed to want that?”

“That’s not the question. You can want whatever you want. Just you and me here, and I won’t tell anyone.”

He pauses, remaining silent for so long I’m not sure he’s going to answer me. Then: “I want to never walk these mountains again. I want to no longer wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I want to stop thinking of my best friend and breaking down from the guilt. I want... to feel human again.”

He looks at me. “Is that even possible? If we succeed this week, is any of that finally going to happen?”

“For some people it does.”

“In other words, I’m shit out of luck.”

I smile, then state as gently as I can: “In my experience, you won’t ever feel the same. But eventually, you may find some things about the new normal that aren’t so bad. One day, you might even like what your life has become. Then you’ll know you have moved on, even if you didn’t realize it at the time.”

He tosses another frustrated pebble. “If only it was that simple.”

“It’s not really that complicated.”

“Don’t make me fucking hate you, too.”

I grin at him, understanding completely. We sit in silence a moment longer, then Miguel rises to his feet, dusts off his butt. “We should head back. Before Nemeth comes to find us.”

“Do you like him?”

“No. I don’t like any of them. But then, I think we just established I don’t like myself very much either. The search dog, Daisy? I can root for her. Otherwise, I’m just counting down the days till we head back to civilization.”

“I like Bob,” I offer, standing up as well. “He seems genuinely cheerful.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

This catches me off guard. “Sorry?”

“Isn’t it your job to ask questions? Because why Bob? Why a Bigfoot hunter?”

“Because the Bigfoot Society has some of the best data on missing persons in America’s wildlands?”

“And they get paid how much for that interest?”

“Paid? It’s a hobby, an after-hours-enthusiast kind of thing—”

“Try five thousand dollars.”

I’m totally baffled now. “Bob was paid five thousand dollars?”

“From Martin. I saw the check myself.”

“But... why?”

“Based on what I overheard, to bring us out alive. Or really, to bring Marty out alive.”

“But... I don’t...” I frown, not quite able to make sense of this revelation. Bob was paid to ensure Martin’s safety? From what?

Miggy follows my line of thinking perfectly. “Exactly,” he says. “Still happy you joined our merry band?”

Then he picks up an armful of dried kindling and heads back to camp. I follow a moment later and quite a bit slower.

Martin’s obsession, Miggy’s guilt, and Bigfoot Bob’s payday? My squirrel brain races and spins with all this new information. But try as I might, I can’t make any sense of it.

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