As he said it, Antony felt profoundly relieved to have an easy out. No matter what happened with these people, it was no longer his responsibility. It was ridiculous, he felt, to expect him to be in charge of anything right now. An oversized white truck was going far too fast down the dirt road in the distance. Whoever was in it was playing rap-metal, and as Antony watched, the dust kicked up by the truck’s speed was moving to the song’s rhythm. Everyone was watching him, but he kept his eyes on the truck, hoping they would let him be. For the first time since he was a child, he felt the urge to pray to Jesus. A God to make things right or at least to take on some of the responsibility of these moments.

“Let’s fucking go,” Margot said. It made her feel cool and tough to say. She had her film camera in her hands, cranking and saving these moments. Her brother’s face framed with the open door in the background. He looked dignified, and like their father. It was one of the few things she liked about aging—seeing their parents’ faces occasionally appear on her and her brother’s faces, like headlights emerging from an early-morning fog. She felt the urge to say something to him, maybe thank him for this opportunity, maybe say, in some way, how important he was to her.

The plan was the expedition would be anchored on either side by a Joe. One through at the beginning, one at the end because the pattern when they had started planning this journey was thought to be five in, one at risk.

“We should go in together,” Margot said to her brother. There was space if they linked arms. She expected him to say no, but he nodded yes. She realized he wasn’t speaking much because he was scared. “Jason.”

He nodded again and took her hand.

Margot wanted to say they didn’t have to do this but understood this was what he was actually looking forward to. It wasn’t finding new worlds or going on adventures her brother wanted, it was moments like this when he felt all of fear’s monstrous pressure and then continued on. It was possible in these moments, when fingers stopped shaking, when the brain flooded with elation, to feel immortal. Only the dying and the wise can sit firm in their mortality.

Joe walked through, quiet and relaxed as if he were in his own home. He walked farther in and waved. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Let’s go,” she said again.

They linked arms and smiled at each other.

Through the doorway, it felt like being on an ascending plane. Margot could feel a shift in the air, her sinuses ached, her ears were clogged, and her whole body felt like it was being pinched by two large, calloused fingers.

*  *  *