The first Joe who went through the door ran away from it, his flight instinct strong, and Margot followed him farther down the path. Her footage stopped for a while, probably because it was too hard to run through slick snow and crank. Or maybe she was resting her hand. When the footage began again, Margot was in deep woods. Joe was ahead of her and there was a figure ahead of him, too tall, too thin, and Margot later would claim it, too, was made from gold like the trees and the path. That when it spoke, its voice was so loud she longed to cover her ears and she could not identify what it was saying but knew from its tone she should leave.

She fell multiple times, had to get seven stitches in her left forearm from the cuts, and the cuts themselves became infected and had to be studied. The wound kept reopening; the blood looked metallic to all the doctors she saw. They took samples and tried multiple ways of making sure the infection didn’t spread. Margot small-talked through the blood draws, the poking and prodding, about the screenplay she was writing. It was called The Expedition or The Golden Demon or I Plant My Flag. It was feminist horror or maybe a faux documentary, or maybe it was both? Margot agreed to let her samples be studied, although she felt certain from the way the military doctors were acting that she didn’t have a choice.

After the infections had healed, after the cuts became scars all her friends kept recommending really great plastic surgeons for, but for once, here were imperfections in her life she did not want to sculpt, aggressively crystal, green-drink-with-expensive-vitamins guzzle at, throw money at, or in any way pretend away. They were proof, for once, her life had been extraordinary. And sometimes, people DMed her after a live stream and said your scars make you seem so real, and sent a smiling emoji with large, teary eyes.

*  *  *

For the third time in his life, Antony heard what he felt sure was God’s voice. As most of the expedition died, and his mind whirred toward an assumption that maybe the same thing had happened to both his daughters but he was lucky enough not to have seen it, he heard a voice telling him to atone. “Your greed caused this.”