Page 62 of One Step Too Far

“What did Josh lose?”

“What?”

“Tim was generally a good guy and a great friend. But he had a habit of wanting what others had. And you guys had a habit of forgiving him. Until you didn’t. Was it Josh? Was that the breaking point? What did Josh lose?”

I don’t think he’s going to answer me, but then, suddenly, bitterly:

“His faith in his friends. His trust in humanity. His self-respect. After that, what’s left?”

I don’t have an answer, which is just as well, because Scott refuses to speak again.

We trudge back through the woods to base camp. One man down. Seven people lost deep in their own thoughts.

And one terrible suspicion growing in my head.

CHAPTER 21

I’ve never been so grateful to arrive anywhere as our damp collection of tents. The sun is starting to set as we enter the campsite, light falling, temperatures cooling. My rain-soaked clothes that felt refreshing two hours ago are now cold and clammy against my skin.

After the physical and emotional exertion of the day, I want nothing more than to crawl into my sleeping bag and collapse. Camping, however, doesn’t work like that. Neil needs tending; the fire demands building; water requires fetching.

No one speaks as we fall into our roles. Nemeth and Scott unbundle Neil from the travois. Miggy hits the fire, working some kind of magic that gets wet wood burning. I fetch pails of water, while Luciana tends to Daisy. Martin retrieves our food. We’re like a dysfunctional family, ignoring the nearly palpable tension till chores are finished and food is on the table.

When I return with the final two buckets, Neil is situated in front of the now roaring fire, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a blue shawl while Luciana carefully rinses the back of his head. She touches. He flinches. She touches again. He flinches again. Still, no one says a word.

Martin appears with the scentproof bag of remaining meals. He sets it down, opens it up, and just like that, dinner is served. We take turns choosing main courses and adding boiling water. I am both hungry and not hungry. I have a squirrel brain under the best of circumstances. After today’s events, I can’t concentrate. My mind hums, my skin feels too tight, and my nerves thrum wildly. These are the moments I most crave a drink. To save me from myself. Or at least escape for a little while.

Fortunately, there are no bars in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, there’s no cell phone reception, sat phones, or radios either.

I have spent most of the past ten years on my own, but I’ve never felt so vulnerable and alone as I do now.

Miggy and Scott sit on the ground on either side of Neil. He sips water; they chew on rehydrated pasta. Luciana has crossed to the other side of the fire, closer to me. Daisy lies at her feet, but the dog’s deep brown eyes are open, watching.

“Does she still need to play hide-and-seek?” I ask softly.

“Not now. Too dark.” Luciana sounds distant. She’s made a decision. I already know what it is and don’t blame her.

“When will you and Daisy leave?”

“At first light.” She glances at me. “You’re welcome to join.”

“Not sure yet.” But like her, I’ve reached a decision as well. Mine just makes less sense. A dry drunk. That’s what Paul accused me of being when I first started doing this work. Substituting one dangerous addiction for another. I want to think there’s more to it than that. More to me than that. But times like these, even I’m not sure.

Martin steps closer to the fire, clears his throat, opens his mouth. I don’t wait.

“Did you attack Neil with a rock?” I ask in a loud, clear voice. It’s enough to stop him and startle the others.

“What?”

“Did you try to kill Neil out there in the boulder field?”

“No.” Martin sounds genuinely bewildered, if not a trace indignant. “I was conducting my own search.”

“And the food? Did you rip open the bags?”

“Why would I rip open the bags? You were with me when I discovered them—”

I’m already moving on to Nemeth. “And you, where were you this afternoon?”

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