Adam slipped the rifle sling over his arm and shoulder and thumbed the safety off. As he moved away from the fire, the night was impossibly black, made more so by the phantom images of the fire on his retinas. He crossed around the dark side of the Bronco and took a knee.

With his rifle pressed to his shoulder, he tried to become perfectly still. There was a reason why animals owned the night, and humans did not. Our night vision sucks. In the dark, we perceive motion more easily than details. And hearing improves. Adam figured that was how cavemen could hear the approach of saber-toothed tigers.

Something definitely was out there. Not movement so much as sound. Did someone just sniff?

Didn’t matter. He had a compass point to concentrate on.

Moving slowly enough to be barely moving at all, he remained in his crouch and he scissor-walked toward the sound. He heard it again. The source hadn’t moved.

Whatever that nerve was at the base of his spine that told him he was in peril was buzzing as if it were plugged into an electrical outlet. It was entirely possible that his prey was hunting him back.

He froze. He wanted to hear it again before he overcommitted. Also, he wanted to gauge the range.

There it was again. Definitely someone sniffing. A voice moaned.

Adam started moving again. After six more steps, he saw someone lying on the ground, but in the darkness, he didn’t know who it was. Then he saw the bare legs. This was Bubba’s girlfriend, and from the way she was sprawled on her face, he knew she was unconscious.

“Emma?” he called out to the night. “Emma, where are you?”

The voice moaned again.

“Ah, shit,” Adam said. “They shot each other.”

He picked up his pace and ran toward the source of the snuffling. “Emma, it’s me. Don’t shoot. It’s Adam.”

He found her at the base of a tree, curled in a fetal ball, crying. He pulled his flashlight from its loop on his belt and thumbed the bulb to life. A Bushmaster lay on the ground next to her. He pushed it out of the way, kneeled and bent till his mouth was inches from her ear. “Are you hurt?”

Emma continued to hug her knees as she rocked herself on the ground. If she’d heard him, she made no indication.

Adam held his flashlight in his teeth as he placed his hands on Emma’s shoulders and he gently rocked her onto her back.

She didn’t resist.

Adam saw no signs of injury, no blood. He ran his hands down her body, then her legs. He reached under to check her back. She seemed fine.

“Emma!” He shouted it this time, and she jumped. Lights came back on in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“W-what just happened? I . . . I had to . . .”