She hoped to use the dynamic to her advantage. She would be unmemorable, and by the time the crew realized how dull she was, it would be too late to replace her. The best they could hope for would be some contrived triumph when she trekked out after six weeks, bruised and hungry, and raised her arms before the setting sun. She’d take the prize and be done with it all, and Civilization would never hear from her again.

“You’re kidding.” The driver was on the phone again. She sighed when she hung up. “I swear . . .” she said, and then stopped herself. “You good?”

Mara realized the question was for her.

“Yes,” she said. “Of course.” She scratched her blindfold, letting in a blade of light, and put her hand down quickly.

After a few hours, the truck stopped. The driver led Mara by the elbow, brusquely, across a stretch of gravel; she felt the shape of the rocks through her sandals. A chill in the air. She wished she had a jacket. “Take her,” someone said, and then a new hand touched her shoulder, guiding her to a bench. The new hand was tentative. It turned over her arm, gently, and placed a wrapped cheeseburger in her palm.

“I bet you’re hungry.” A man’s voice.

“I guess.” Being blindfolded made Mara nauseous, or maybe it was the nerves. In the distance she heard bustling footsteps, voices. The slam of a car door. She unwrapped the burger and took a bite. She wondered if this was her last real meal, but didn’t want to ask. She felt hyperaware of every swallow. The lingering salt from the cheese.

“Sorry it’s cold,” the man said. “We weren’t sure when you’d get here.” He sat down beside her.

“No, it’s fine.”

“There’s pop, too, if you want it.”

When Mara was done eating, she crumpled up the wrapper and felt it plucked from her hand.

There was something in the quality of the man’s breath, quiet sighs, that made her think he wanted to talk. She felt he was glancing at her, then glancing away.

“So how’d you get into this?” she said.

“Saw an ad,” he said. “Used to work for the local station, back in the day. They wanted someone who didn’t mind dirt.” He had an accent, but Mara couldn’t place it. Loose on the Os.

“So you know the woods here.”

“I s’pose.”

“Anything I should be prepared for?”

A hesitation. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“That’s okay. We can talk about something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“I wanted a change,” he said. “That’s the thing, you know?”

“A change from what?”

“After my wife left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She got with a guy in her dart league. I found out on Valentine’s Day. Flowers at the door, but they weren’t from me. I said, look, we can work it out. But she wouldn’t stay.”

“That sucks,” said Mara. “It’s her loss.”

“You think?”

“Of course. Look at you.” It was hypothetical; Mara couldn’t see him. But she’d hyped up enough nervous clients that it was easy to tweak the script.