At night they went back to their old conversation, their theories about the crew. Bullfrog still swore there’d been a plane crash. Mara knew he liked it when other people brought up aliens, and sometimes she did, just so he could grumble and scoff. Ashley stayed quiet. But one day she spoke.

“I think they forgot us,” Ashley said. “The crew.”

“That’s not possible,” said Bullfrog.

“No,” said Ashley. “I think it’s true. I’ve been thinking about it a long time.”

Mara was shuffling cards, and now she put them down to listen.

“Lenny’s had failed projects before,” Ashley said. “I think he ran out of money. They ran out of money to make the show.”

“He told you that?” said Bullfrog.

“Not exactly. But he was worried about paying the crew. He kept laying people off. He left to talk to a funder. I think he didn’t get the money, and he lied to the guys who were left, told them they’d be replaced, because he didn’t want to tell them that the show was canceled.”

“That’s not the same as leaving us.”

“Mistakes,” said Ashley. “Overlapping mistakes. He thought the pilot would get us. The pilot thought somebody else would. Somebody’s voicemail was full. Nobody missed us. They moved on to other things.”

A hot, bubbling feeling welled up in Mara, startling in its intensity, and she realized it was laughter. Caught in her chest, because she was too tired to laugh. “Can you imagine,” she said. “Can you imagine you’re Lenny’s secretary or accountant or whatever, and you’re going through his records in a year, and you’re like, Oh, shit, did we leave those people in the woods?”

“Yeah,” said Ashley. “I mean, yeah, I think that’s what happened.”

“No,” said Bullfrog, slowly. “No, the families would have realized. Some of ’em. They’d realize when we didn’t come home. When did we leave camp, week six? Bet they sent out a search party that week. Probably found Kyle and figured we’re all dead.”

“Fuck,” said Mara. “Fuck everything.”

She felt a strange, quivering energy, like she wanted to hit something, or herself. It had been two, maybe three weeks since they’d left camp. How long did a search last, a long one? Ten days? It didn’t matter. It was too late.

They could have stayed and waited. They could have left a note. But they’d hit week six, and just like that, she’d thought all hope was over. She was still thinking of it as a fucking show.

“I didn’t think . . .” she said.

“People do irrational things when they panic,” said Ashley softly. “Aren’t you the one who said that?”

“I don’t know,” said Mara. Were they rational now?

“Listen,” said Bullfrog, and his voice was firm. “Whatever happened, it’s done. We’re here now. We thought we were on our own, eh? Only difference is now we know it.”

30

There were days when Ashley seemed fine. Fine enough, at least. Mara could tell right away, in the morning, when the day would be a good one. Ashley had an ease to her, light movements and light in her eyes.