Mara had never thought about that. Apart from Tom, she hadn’t thought much about the crew at all.

“Maybe that guy bet on you,” Mara said. “I think they were gambling on us, too. Who would last.”

Kyle’s eyes were wide, and he kept glancing between them, like he couldn’t decide what part of the conversation to circle back to.

“So what you’re saying,” Kyle said, “is that I’m the best real survivor here. Like legit. Not cheating.”

Nobody brought up Ashley, but to be fair, it was kind of obvious. Survival had never been her goal.

“Sure,” said Mara.

“Sure,” said Bullfrog.

You had to hand it to Kyle. His foot was broken, busted open. He was stuck in the woods with no way out. But he was enjoying this part.

“Say it,” he said.

“Jesus Christ,” said Bullfrog.

“Say it. Right here in front of everyone.”

Bullfrog sighed. “You, Kyle, are the best survivor here.”

“I’ve seen a lot of so-called survivors,” Mara said. “I’ll give you this.”

“Better than me,” said Ashley. “Better than these two-faced cheaters.” There was a catch in her voice, but not cruelty. Mara couldn’t look at her.

“I knew it,” said Kyle. “This whole time, I knew it.” And when he closed his eyes, he had a smile on his lips.

IN THE MORNING, BULLFROG WENT BACK TO CREW CAMP AND CUT A SQUARE OF canvas from the wall of a tent, which Mara sliced into strips for a bandage. Ashley made herself scarce. Maybe she sensed that Mara couldn’t bear to be near her. Mara felt a pulse in her hands at Ashley’s voice, something raging, although it wasn’t purely anger. She couldn’t decide how she felt. Maybe it was pity, or maybe grief. She pushed the feeling down. It was a hot day, and when she went outside, she saw Ashley floating on her back in the lake.

Bullfrog was gone at intervals. Mara figured he was scouting. But he didn’t explain, and she didn’t ask.

Mostly Mara sat in the shelter and talked to Kyle. It wasn’t for the pleasure of conversation. She worried he might have hit his head. She wanted to know if he got confused, or if he started to slur his words. Also because when Kyle stopped talking, he seemed to sink into the pain. Or maybe it was Mara who sank into hers.

“The batteries,” Kyle told her.

So he’d noticed the cameras, too. “What about them?”

But instead he pulled out his mic, opened the case. “Can you replace them?”

Mara had taken her own mic off the night before, stashed it in the crotch of a tree. “Sure,” she said, trying to sound normal. “Of course.”

She tried to remember everything Kyle had mentioned liking in the past few weeks. Scouts, of course, but Mara could think of few things more boring than structured and ritualized adventure. He liked reading, though. So she asked about his favorite books. Mostly history, he said. And then, a little shyly, poetry. Which surprised Mara, although she didn’t know why; after all, a nerd was a nerd. But at least it was something they could talk about.