“You could get hurt out here,” he says. “You could get killed.”

I stare at him as my body trembles. I pray he can’t see the blisters that are forming on my hands.

“Didn’t Alice tell you about the bears?”

I shake my head. I study his face. He looks dismayed. He looks concerned, the way a person would, given the situation. The bears. His face becomes a mirror, reflecting back to me my own insanity. How ridiculous I must appear. Have I let the fantasy of a little girl scare me into a frenzy?

He looks around us, swinging the shotgun. Then he sets it against the tree and gives me his hand, helping me to my feet. His grip is gentle and his face holds a smile. It’s the smile of a person trying to help a crazy person out of her craziness. He coaxes me and I begin to settle. What caused me to lose control of my senses? Alice said they followed me from the gas station. She knew about my family. But maybe that was all in her mind. Maybe they just saw me there. Maybe I told her first and she only pretended to know how old Annie was.

I consider that my thoughts are not normal. That the death of my child has carved paths inside my head that always lead to the darkest scenarios. Paranoia. It happened once. It could happen again. Horror.

But life is almost never horror. It can feel horrible. It can seem horrible. But not like this. Not this kind of crazy horror.

“I’m sorry,” I say then, meeting his eyes. “I got lost and then I panicked. I should have stayed in the house.”

“No harm done. But come on now,” he says. “If we hurry, there might be time to get you back to town.”

I want to throw my arms around him and thank him. He’s not going to shoot me. He’s not going to kill me. He’s going to take me to town.

Of course he is. I have had crazy thoughts and now I want to thank him for returning me to reality.

I almost bounce like Alice as I follow him back to the house.

Chapter Ten

Day fourteen

The bartender.

Nic could not remember his name, but she remembered other things about him. Like the calm in his voice, and the surrender in his eyes.

She remembered things about his story as well. A drug-addicted mother. Absent father. Little sister to care for.

He could have gone to college. But he stayed to work—here, and at the Gas n’ Go. Anything he could get. His sister was young. Or maybe that was all wrong. Maybe he was older and years had passed since his sister was young and he’d had to support her. Maybe he was still here because the other ships had all sailed.