God, if you hear this, please welcome Tony.

I’m as careful going up the cliff as I was coming down. No hurry now. Making sure my feet don’t slip, getting a good grip with my hands. A light rain is falling, so that makes it slippery.

Imani peers over the edge, keeping an eye on my progress. She looks worried but doesn’t say anything, so as not to make me more nervous. At the top, she takes my hand and helps me to level ground.

I expect her to drop my hand, but she doesn’t.

“Daniel, that was a good thing you did. A brave thing.”

I shrug. Speaking would disturb the lump in my throat.

“Follow me,” Imani says, still holding my hand.

Mia is waiting for us in the woods, where she’s rigged the blue tarp and is feeding wood to a small campfire.

“Say hello to the boy responsible for Tony’s death,” she says, her voice tight and angry.

Deacon Bailey has been tied to a tree. His chin is on his chest, and he’s crying like a baby.

31. Make a Promise to Yourself

Mia folds her arms across her chest. “Everything has changed,” she announces. “We knew all along our struggle was dangerous, and now the worst has happened. The question is, what do we do about it?”

“Tell the police?” I suggest.

“Do you see any police? Sure, once we’ve been rescued, we tell the police. But until then it’s up to us.”

“What exactly is up to us?” Imani asks uneasily.

Mia points at Deke. “Does he stay or does he go? Do we leave him tied to the tree and go on our way? Or do we cut him loose, knowing he may attack us again?”

I look at Deke, who appears to be suffering. “Maybe he’s learned his lesson.”

“Maybe,” Mia says, but not like she believes it. “That’s what we need to decide. Can he be trusted? It’s important that all of us agree. Sort of like a jury examining the evidence.”

“That seems fair,” Imani says. “Daniel?”

“I guess.”

Mia kneels, warming her hands at the campfire. “Before we hold the trial, I have a surprise.” She holds out a packet of instant hot chocolate. “I’ve been saving this for a special time.”

I’m ashamed to admit that my mouth waters. I just buried someone I knew. This is no time to celebrate, is it?

“This isn’t about celebration,” Mia says, as if she’s reading my mind. “It’s about energy. Hot water, powdered chocolate, and sugar will help us think clearly.”

I’m not so sure about that, but am not about to disagree. Mia boils water, adds the packet, and stirs with a stick.

“Careful. Hot hot.” She pours cups for Imani and me and herself. And then she pours one more cup.