I imagined the Seeker right at this moment, as the sun touched the dark, zigzagging line of the western horizon. What would she think when I didn’t arrive in Tucson? A spasm of glee made me laugh out loud. Melanie also enjoyed the picture of the Seeker’s furious irritation. How long would it take her to go back to San Diego to see if this had all been a ploy to get rid of her? And then what steps would she take when I wasn’t there? When I wasn’t anywhere?

I just couldn’t picture very clearly where I would be at that point.

Look, a dry wash. It’s wide enough for the car—let’s follow it, Melanie insisted.

I’m not sure we’re supposed to go that way yet.

It will be dark soon and we’ll have to stop. You’re wasting time! She was silently shouting in her frustration.

Or saving time, if I’m right. Besides, it’s my time, isn’t it?

She didn’t answer in words. She seemed to stretch inside my mind, reaching back toward the convenient wash.

I’m the one doing this, so I’m doing it my way.

Melanie fumed wordlessly in response.

Why don’t you show me the rest of the lines? I suggested. We could see if anything is visible before night falls.

No, she snapped. I’ll do that part my way.

You’re being childish.

Again she refused to answer. I continued toward the four sharp peaks, and she sulked.

When the sun disappeared behind the hills, night washed across the landscape abruptly; one minute the desert was sunset orange, and then it was black. I slowed, my hand fumbling around the dashboard, searching for the switch for the headlights.

Have you lost your mind? Melanie hissed. Do you have any idea how visible headlights would be out here? Someone is sure to see us.

So what do we do now?

Hope the seat reclines.

I let the engine idle as I tried to think of options besides sleeping in the car, surrounded by the black emptiness of the desert night. Melanie waited patiently, knowing I would find none.

This is crazy, you know, I told her, throwing the car into park and twisting the keys out of the ignition. The whole thing. There can’t really be anyone out here. We won’t find anything. And we’re going to get hopelessly lost trying. I had an abstract sense of the physical danger in what we were planning—wandering out into the heat with no backup plan, no way to return. I knew Melanie understood the danger far more clearly, but she held the specifics back.