"Stop complaining/' said Charles.

"How's everyone doing?" shouted Hannah at the front, walking backward up the hill. "Marvelous, marvelous. This is f.u.c.king Candy Land." "Only a half hour to the first lookout point!" "I'm going to throw myself off," said Jade. We trudged on. In the woods, with its endless procession of malnourished pines and lop-eared rhododendrons and wan gray rocks, time seemed to speed up and slow down without provocation. I fell into a strange lull as I lumbered along in the very back, staring for minutes at a time at Jade's red knee-socks (hiked up over her jeans; some precaution against rattlesnakes), the thick brown roots caterpillaring through the trail, the splotches of fading gold light staining the ground. The seven of us seemed to be the only things alive for miles (apart from a few invisible birds and a gray squirrel skittering up a tree's torso) and one couldn't help but wonder if Hannah was right, if this experience she'd forced us into was, in fact, a gateway to something else, some brave new understanding of the world. Pines frothed, imitating the ocean. A bird fluttered up, up, swiftly, like an air bubble, to the sky.

Oddly enough, the only person who appeared not to have fallen under this plodding spell was Hannah. Whenever the path stiffened into a straight line, I could see she'd hung back to walk with Leulah and talked animatedly-a little too too animatedly-nodding and looking over at Lu's face as if to memorize her expressions. And every now and then, she laughed, an abrupt and harsh sound, puncturing the bland peace of everything. animatedly-nodding and looking over at Lu's face as if to memorize her expressions. And every now and then, she laughed, an abrupt and harsh sound, puncturing the bland peace of everything.

"Wonder what they're gossiping about," said Jade.

I shrugged.

We reached the first vista, Abram's Peak, around 6:15 P.M. It was a large rock promontory off to the right of the trail that opened up, like a stage, to reveal a grand expanse of mountains.

"That's Tennessee," Hannah said, shading her eyes.

We stood next to her in a line, staring at Tennessee. The only immediate sound was Nigel unwrapping the blueberry Pop-Tart he'd removed from his backpack. (As fish are impervious to drowning, Nigel was impervious to all Quietly Profound Moments.) The cold air tightened my throat, my lungs. The mountains hugged each other sternly, similar to the way men hugged other men, not letting their chests touch. Thin clouds hung around their necks, and the mountains farthest away, the ones pa.s.sed out against the horizon, were so pale, you couldn't see where their backs ended and the sky began.

The view made me sad, but I suppose everyone, when happening upon a sprawling expanse of earth, all light and mist, all breathlessness and infinity, felt sad -"the enduring gloom of man," Dad called it. You couldn't help but think, not only about shortages of food, safe water, shockingly low averages of adult literacy and life expectancy in various developing nations, but also that shopworn thought about how many people were, at this precise moment, being born, and how many were dying, and that you, like some 6.2 billion others, were simply between these two ho-hum milestones, milestones that felt earth shattering while they were happening, but in the context of Hichraker's 2003 edition of the World Geographical Factbook, World Geographical Factbook, or M. C. Howard's or M. C. Howard's Finding the Cosmos in a Grain of Sand: The Nativity of the Universe Finding the Cosmos in a Grain of Sand: The Nativity of the Universe (2004) they were ordinary, run-of-the-mill. It made one feel as if one's life was no more imperative than a pine needle. (2004) they were ordinary, run-of-the-mill. It made one feel as if one's life was no more imperative than a pine needle.

"f.u.c.k you!" Hannah screamed. Hannah screamed.

The sound didn't echo, as it would in a Looney Tune, but was swallowed immediately, like a thimble hurled at the sea. Charles turned and stared at her. The look on his face clearly indicated he thought she was crazy. The rest of us shifted like nervous cattle in a boxcar.

"F-f.u.c.k you!" she shouted again, her voice hoa.r.s.e. she shouted again, her voice hoa.r.s.e.

She turned to us. "You should all say something." She took another deep breath, tipped her head back and closed her eyes in the manner of someone preparing to sunbathe on a deck chair. Her eyelids trembled, her lips too.

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments!" she screamed. she screamed.

"You okay?" Milton asked her, laughing.

"There's nothing funny about this," Hannah said with a serious face. "Put some muscle into it. Pretend you're a ba.s.soon. And then say something. Something that comes from your soul." She took a deep breath. "Henry David Th.o.r.eau!" "Henry David Th.o.r.eau!"

"Don't be afraid to be afraid!" Leulah gasped rather abruptly, sticking out her chin like a child in a spitting contest. Leulah gasped rather abruptly, sticking out her chin like a child in a spitting contest.

"Nice," said Hannah. Jade huffed. "Oh, G.o.d. I guess we're going to be born again from this ex perience?" "I can't hear you," Hannah said. "This is f.u.c.king ridiculous!" ridiculous!" Jade shouted. "Better." "Dang," said Milton. "Wimpy." Jade shouted. "Better." "Dang," said Milton. "Wimpy."

"Dang!"

"Jenna Jameson?" shouted Charles. "Is it a question or an answer?" said Hannah.

"Janet Jacme!" "Get me the f.u.c.k out of here!" screamed Jade. screamed Jade. "Set limits and goals with equal precision!" "I want to f.u.c.king go home!" "Say h.e.l.lo to my leetle friend!" "Set limits and goals with equal precision!" "I want to f.u.c.king go home!" "Say h.e.l.lo to my leetle friend!" yelled Nigel, his face red. yelled Nigel, his face red. "Sir William Shakespeare!" "Sir William Shakespeare!" shouted Milton. "He wasn't a sir," said Charles. "Yes, he was." "He wasn't knighted." "Let it go," said Hannah. shouted Milton. "He wasn't a sir," said Charles. "Yes, he was." "He wasn't knighted." "Let it go," said Hannah.

"Jenna Jameson!"

"Blue?" Hannah asked.

I didn't know why I hadn't shouted anything. I felt like a person who couldn't unstick their stutter. I believe I was trying to think of someone with a decent last name, someone who deserved this privilege of being sent into the wind. Chekhov, I'd been about to say him, but he seemed too stilted, even if I added the first name. Dostoevsky was too long. Plato seemed irritating, as if I were trying to one-up everyone by choosing the Very Root of Western Civilization and Thought. Nabokov, Dad would have approved, but no one, Dad included, seemed certain of the p.r.o.nunciation. ("NA-bo-kov" was incorrect, the p.r.o.nunciation of amateurs who bought Lolita Lolita under the impression it was a bodice ripper; yet "Na-BO-kov" fired like a defunct pistol.) It was even worse with Goethe. Moliere was an interesting choice (no one had yet mentioned a Frenchman) but there was a problem shouting the guttural R. Racine was too obscure, Hemingway too macho, Fitzgerald fine, but in the end it was unforgivable what he did to Zelda. Homer was a good choice, though Dad said under the impression it was a bodice ripper; yet "Na-BO-kov" fired like a defunct pistol.) It was even worse with Goethe. Moliere was an interesting choice (no one had yet mentioned a Frenchman) but there was a problem shouting the guttural R. Racine was too obscure, Hemingway too macho, Fitzgerald fine, but in the end it was unforgivable what he did to Zelda. Homer was a good choice, though Dad said The Simpsons The Simpsons had b.a.s.t.a.r.dized his reputation. had b.a.s.t.a.r.dized his reputation.

"Be-be true to yourself." shouted Leulah. shouted Leulah. "Scorsese!" "Behave yourself." "Scorsese!" "Behave yourself." said Milton. "That's not a good one," said Hannah. "Never behave yourself." said Milton. "That's not a good one," said Hannah. "Never behave yourself."

"Never behave yourself" "]ust do it!" "Be all that you can be!"

"Don't rely on the sound-bites of American advertising to tell you how you feel/' said Hannah. "Use your own words. What you have to say, what's in your heart, is always powerful."

"Full-sleevedtattoos!" shouted Jade. Jade's face was now screwed up with shouted Jade. Jade's face was now screwed up with emotion like a ringing out washcloth. "Blue, you're thinking too much," said Hannah, turning to me. "I -uh -" I said.

"The Canterbury Tales!" "Mrs. Eugenia St.u.r.ds! May she live happily ever after with Mr. Mr. Mark b.u.t.ters but may they not procreate and terrorize the world with their offspring!" Mark b.u.t.ters but may they not procreate and terrorize the world with their offspring!"

"Say the first thing that comes into your head - " "Blue van Meer!" "Blue van Meer!" I blurted. It slipped out like a big catfish. I froze. I prayed no one had heard me, I blurted. It slipped out like a big catfish. I froze. I prayed no one had heard me, that it'd swum into the air, far ahead of everyone's ears. "Hannah Schneider!" "Hannah Schneider!" shouted Hannah. shouted Hannah. "Nigel Creech!" "Jade Churchill Whitestone!" "Milton Black!" "Leulah Jane Maloney!" "Doris Richards my fifth-grade teacher with the incredible t.i.ts!" "h.e.l.l yeah!" "Nigel Creech!" "Jade Churchill Whitestone!" "Milton Black!" "Leulah Jane Maloney!" "Doris Richards my fifth-grade teacher with the incredible t.i.ts!" "h.e.l.l yeah!"

"You don't have to be lewd to be pa.s.sionate. Dare to be real. To be serious."

"Never listen to the awful things people say about you because they're jealous!" Leulah pushed her hair out of her tiny, demure face. She had tears in her eyes. Leulah pushed her hair out of her tiny, demure face. She had tears in her eyes. "One-one must persevere despite great adversity! One can never give up!" "One-one must persevere despite great adversity! One can never give up!"

"Don't just be that way here," Hannah said to us. She pointed at the mountains. "Be that way down there."

The remaining hike to Sugartop Summit (now a disturbing dotted line on our keyless map) took another two hours and Hannah told us we needed to pick up the pace if we wanted to get there before dark.

As we walked, the light weakening, bony pines crowding closer and closer around us, Hannah again became engrossed in a private conversation, this time with Milton. She walked very close to him (so (so close that, at certain moments, she with her great blue backpack and he with his red one, collided at the shoulders like b.u.mper cars). He nodded at something she said, his large frame hunched down on the side where she walked, as if she was causing him to erode. close that, at certain moments, she with her great blue backpack and he with his red one, collided at the shoulders like b.u.mper cars). He nodded at something she said, his large frame hunched down on the side where she walked, as if she was causing him to erode.

I knew how complimentary it could feel when Hannah talked to you, when she singled you out-opened your meek cover, boldly creased the spine, stared inside at your pages, searching for the point at which she'd stopped reading, anxious to find out what happens next. (She always read with great concentration, so you thought you were her favorite paperback until she abruptly put you down and started to read another with the same intensity.) Twenty minutes later, Hannah was talking to Charles. They broke into screechy seagull laughter; she touched his shoulder, pulling him to her, their arms and hands for a moment entwined.

"Aren't they they the happy couple," said Jade. the happy couple," said Jade.

Not fifteen minutes later, Hannah was walking next to Nigel (I could tell from his lowered head and sideways glances, he was listening to her a little uneasily), and soon, she was in front of me talking to Jade.

Naturally, I a.s.sumed she'd eventually move back to talk to me, me, that this was a Hannah-Student Conference, and I, bringing up the rear, was the last on the list. But when they finished their conversation -Hannah was encouraging Jade to apply for a summer internship at that this was a Hannah-Student Conference, and I, bringing up the rear, was the last on the list. But when they finished their conversation -Hannah was encouraging Jade to apply for a summer internship at The Washington Post The Washington Post ("Remember to be kind to yourself," I also heard her say)-she whispered something more, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then hurried to the front of our procession without so much as a glance in my direction. ("Remember to be kind to yourself," I also heard her say)-she whispered something more, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then hurried to the front of our procession without so much as a glance in my direction.

"Okay! Don't worry, guys!" she shouted. "We're almost there!"

I was a mixture of indignation and melancholy by the time we reached Sugartop Summit. One tries not to pay attention to blatant favoritism ("Not everyone can be a member of the Van Meer Fan Club," noted Dad), but when it is so unashamedly flung in one's face, one can't help but feel hurt, as if everyone else gets to be pine needles, but one is forced to be sap. Mercifully, the others didn't realize she hadn't talked to me, and so when Jade threw her backpack to the ground, stretched her arms over her head, a big smile sunseting her face and said, "She really knows what to say, you know what I mean? Amazing" Amazing" I admit I lied; I nodded in emphatic agreement and said, "She does." I admit I lied; I nodded in emphatic agreement and said, "She does."

"Let's try to get the tents up first," Hannah said. "I'll help with the first one. But go take a look at that view! You'll be speechless!"

Despite Hannah's patent enthusiasm, this campground I found dreary and anticlimactic, especially after the sprawling majesty of Abram's Peak. Sugartop Summit comprised a circular dirt clearing flanked by mangy pines, and a blackened campfire where a few logs had recently burned, soft and gray around their edges like the muzzles of old dogs. Off to the right, beyond a cl.u.s.ter of boulders, was a bald rock ledge, narrow as a nearly closed door, where one could sit and spy on a naked, purplish mountain range sleeping under a shabby bedspread of fog. By now, the sun had drained away. Runny oranges and yellows clogged the horizon.

"Someone was here five minutes ago," said Leulah.

I turned from the lookout point. She was standing in the middle of the clearing, pointing at the ground. "What?" asked Jade next to her. I walked over to them. "Look." In front of the toe of her boot was a cigarette b.u.t.t. "It was burning three seconds ago." Crouching down, Jade picked it up as one picks up a dead goldfish.

Carefully, she sniffed it.

"You're right," she said, throwing it on the ground. "I can smell it. Great. Great. All we need. Some mountain scab waiting for nightfall to come f.u.c.k us all in the a.s.s." All we need. Some mountain scab waiting for nightfall to come f.u.c.k us all in the a.s.s."

"Hannah!" shouted Lu. "We have to get out of here!" shouted Lu. "We have to get out of here!"

"What's wrong?" asked Hannah.

Jade pointed at the cigarette b.u.t.t.

"This is a very popular place to camp," Hannah said.

"But it was burning," Leulah said, her eyes saucered. "That's how I saw it. It was orange. Someone's here. Watching us." "Don't be ridiculous." "But none of us were smoking," said Jade.

"It's fine. fine. It was probably a hiker stopping for a rest on his way up the trail. Don't worry about it." Hannah strolled back over to Milton, Charles and Nigel, who were trying to set up the tents. It was probably a hiker stopping for a rest on his way up the trail. Don't worry about it." Hannah strolled back over to Milton, Charles and Nigel, who were trying to set up the tents.

"It's all such a joke to her," said Jade. "We have to leave," said Leulah. "That's what I've been saying from the beginning," said Jade, walking away. "Would anyone listen to me? No. No. I was the killjoy. The wet blanket." "Hey," I said to Leulah, smiling. "I'm sure it's okay." "Really?" Despite having no evidence to back up my claim, I nodded. I was the killjoy. The wet blanket." "Hey," I said to Leulah, smiling. "I'm sure it's okay." "Really?" Despite having no evidence to back up my claim, I nodded.

Half an hour later, Hannah was starting a campfire. The rest of us were sitting on the bald rock eating rigatoni with Newman's Own Fra Diavolo tomato sauce, heated up on the ministove, and French bread hard as igneous rock. We faced the view, even though there was nothing to see but a cauldron of darkness, a dark blue sky. The sky was a little nostalgic; it didn't want to let go of the last frayed streak of light.

"What would happen if you fell off this rock thing?" asked Charles. "You'd die," said Jade through pasta. "There's no sign or anything. No 'Please Remain Alert.' No 'Bad Place to Get Wasted.' It's just there. You fall? Too d.a.m.n bad." "Is there any more parmesan cheese?" "Wonder why it's called Sugartop Summit," said Milton. "Yeah, who cooks up the lame names?" asked Jade, chewing. "Rural folk," said Charles. "The best part is the quiet," said Nigel. "You never notice how loud everything is until you're up here." "I feel sorry for the Native Americans," said Milton. "Read Redfoot's Dispossessed," Dispossessed," I said. "I'm still hungry," said Jade. "How're you still hungry?" asked Charles. "You ate more than everyone. I said. "I'm still hungry," said Jade. "How're you still hungry?" asked Charles. "You ate more than everyone.

You commandeered the hot pot." "I didn't commandeer anything." "Thank G.o.d I didn't go in for seconds. You probably would've bitten my hand off." "If you don't eat enough, your body goes into starvation mode and then when you eat a slice of angel food cake your body treats it like it's penne a la vodka. You balloon within twenty-four hours." "I don't like the fact that someone was here' Leulah said suddenly. Everyone looked at her, startled by her voice. "That cigarette b.u.t.t," she whispered. "Don't worry about it," Milton said. "Hannah's not worried. And she goes camping all the time."

"Anyway, we couldn't leave now if we wanted to," said Charles. "It's the middle of the night. We'd get lost. Probably would would stumble into whatever it is that wanders around-" stumble into whatever it is that wanders around-"

"Convicts," said Jade, nodding. "And that guy who bombed abortion clinics." "They found him," I said. "But you didn't see Hannah's face," said Leulah. "What was wrong with her face?" asked Nigel. Lu looked forlorn in her blue windbreaker, her arms hugging her knees, that Rapunzeled cord of hair roping her left shoulder, touching the ground. "You could tell she was as scared as I was. But she didn't want to say so because she thought she had to be an adult, responsible and everything." "Anyone pack a firearm?" asked Charles. "Oh, I should have brought Jefferson's," Jade said. "It's this big. this big. Adorable. Adorable.

She keeps it in her underwear drawer."

"We don't need guns," said Milton, lying back, staring at the sky. "If I had to go -I mean if it was really really my f.u.c.kin' time -I wouldn't mind doing it here. Under these stars." my f.u.c.kin' time -I wouldn't mind doing it here. Under these stars."

"Well, you're one of those contented morbid people," said Jade. "I for one will do anything I can to make sure my number doesn't come up for at least seventy-five years. If that means shooting someone in the head or biting off some parkie's chu-chu, so be it." She looked in the direction of the tents. "Where is she anyway? Hannah. I don't see her."

We carried the plates and pots back to the clearing and found Hannah eating a granola bar in front of the fire. She'd changed her clothes. She was wearing a green-and-black checkered b.u.t.ton-down shirt. She asked us if we were still hungry and when Jade responded in the affirmative, suggested we make S'mores.

As we roasted marshmallows and Charles told his ghost story (cab driver, ghoulish fare), I became aware that Hannah, sitting on the opposite side of the fire, was staring at me. The campfire jack-o-lanterned everyone, made them orange, carved certain parts of their faces away, and the sockets around her dark eyes, blazing with light, appeared unusually hollow, as if they'd been further dug out with a spoon. I smiled as fiddle-dee-deeishly as I could, then pretended to be entranced with the Art of Roasting a Marshmallow. Yet, when I glanced at her not a minute later, her gaze hadn't budged. She held on to my eyes, then, almost imperceptibly, pointed to her left, toward the woods. She touched her wrist.w.a.tch. Her right hand motioned Five. Five.

"And then the cab driver turned around," Charles was saying. "The woman was gone. All that was left on the seat? A white chiffon scarf." white chiffon scarf." "That's "That's it?" it?" "Yeah," said Charles, smiling. "Suckiest ghost story I ever heard." "Sucked "Yeah," said Charles, smiling. "Suckiest ghost story I ever heard." "Sucked b.a.l.l.s-" b.a.l.l.s-" "If I had a tomato I'd be throwing it at your head." "Who knows that one about the dog with no tail?" asked Nigel. "He goes around looking for it. Terrorizing people." "If I had a tomato I'd be throwing it at your head." "Who knows that one about the dog with no tail?" asked Nigel. "He goes around looking for it. Terrorizing people."

"You're thinking of The Monkey's Paw,' " said Jade, "that awful short story you read in fourth grade but will remember for the rest of your life for unknown reasons. That and 'The Most Dangerous Game.' Right, Retch?"

I nodded. "There is is one about a dog, but I can't remember it." "Hannah knows a good one," said Charles. "I don't," said Hannah. "Come one about a dog, but I can't remember it." "Hannah knows a good one," said Charles. "I don't," said Hannah. "Come on." on." "No. I'm an awful storyteller. Always have been." She yawned. "What time is it?" Milton checked his watch. "A little after ten." "We really shouldn't stay up too late tonight," she said. "We need to be "No. I'm an awful storyteller. Always have been." She yawned. "What time is it?" Milton checked his watch. "A little after ten." "We really shouldn't stay up too late tonight," she said. "We need to be rested. We're starting early tomorrow." "Great." Needless to say, Fear and Anxiety typhooned through me. None of the others appeared to have noticed Hannah's signal, not even Leulah, who'd forgotten all about the ominous cigarette b.u.t.t. Now, rather blissfully, she ate her S'more (lint of melted marshmallow on her lip), smiling at whatever Milton was going on about, those tiny dimples splintering her chin. I sat on my knees and stared at the fire. I considered ignoring her ("When in doubt, feign oblivion"), ("When in doubt, feign oblivion"), but after five minutes, I noticed with horror Hannah was staring at me again, this time expectantly, as if I was playing Ophelia and had gotten so deep into character, into the throes of mental illness, I was missing all my cues, forcing Laertes and Gertrude to ad-lib. From the sheer force of her gaze, I found myself standing up, dusting myself off. but after five minutes, I noticed with horror Hannah was staring at me again, this time expectantly, as if I was playing Ophelia and had gotten so deep into character, into the throes of mental illness, I was missing all my cues, forcing Laertes and Gertrude to ad-lib. From the sheer force of her gaze, I found myself standing up, dusting myself off.

"I'll-I'll be right back," I said.

"Where're you going?" asked Nigel.

Everyone stared at me.

"To the bathroom," I said.

Jade giggled. "I'm dreading dreading that." that."

"If the Native Americans could do it," said Charles, "so can you."

"Native Americans also scalped people."

"Might I suggest dry leaves? A bit of moss?" said Nigel smirking.

"We have toilet paper," Hannah said. "It's in my tent."

"Thanks," I said.

"In my bag," she said.

"Is there any more chocolate?" Jade asked.

I walked to the other side of the tents where it was dark and sandpapery and waited for my eyes to adjust. When I was certain no one had followed me, when I could hear their voices crackling with the fire, I stepped into the woods. Branches rubber-banded against my legs. I turned around and saw with surprise that the pines had fallen into place behind me, like those hippie beads decorating a doorway. Slowly, I moved along the arc of the clearing, back in the trees, so no one would see me, and stopped somewhere near the far left side, where I thought Hannah had pointed.

The campfire was close, some ten yards in front of me, and I could see Hannah still sitting with the others, resting her head in her hand. Her face looked so sleepy and satisfied, for a second I wondered if I'd been hallucinating. I told myself that if she didn't appear in three minutes, I'd go back and never speak to that crazy woman again-rather, two two minutes, for two minutes was all it took for almost half of the nuclei in a lump of aluminum-28 to decay, for one to die from VX exposure (p.r.o.nounced "VEEKS"), for 150 Sioux men, women and children to be shot at the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, for a Norwegian woman in 1866 by the name of Gudrid Vaaler to give birth to a son, Johan Vaaler, future inventor of the paper clip. minutes, for two minutes was all it took for almost half of the nuclei in a lump of aluminum-28 to decay, for one to die from VX exposure (p.r.o.nounced "VEEKS"), for 150 Sioux men, women and children to be shot at the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, for a Norwegian woman in 1866 by the name of Gudrid Vaaler to give birth to a son, Johan Vaaler, future inventor of the paper clip.

Two minutes was enough time for Hannah.

22.

Heart of Darkness.

I watched her stand up and say something to them. I heard my name, so I guessed she said she wanted to check on me. She walked toward the tents and out of sight.

I waited another minute, watching the others-Jade was doing her exaggerated impression of Ms. St.u.r.ds during Morning Announcements, feet wide apart, that bizarre rocking movement as if she were a ferry crossing a choppy English Channel ("This is a very scary time for our country!" Jade cried, clapping her hands together, eyes bulging)-and then I heard spine cracks of branches and leaves, and saw Hannah coming toward me, her face smudged by the dark. When she saw me, she smiled and pressed a finger to her lips, motioning for me to follow her.

Obviously, this surprised me. I didn't have my flashlight and the wind was picking up; I was wearing nothing more substantial than jeans, a T-shirt, the sweatshirt Dad had given me from the University of Colorado at Picayune and a windbreaker. But she was already moving swiftly away, weaving in and out of the trees, and so, with a quick glance back at the others- they were laughing, their voices tightly woven together-I headed after her.

Out of earshot from the campground, I was going to ask what we were doing, but when I looked at her, I saw the focused, intense look on her face, and it silenced me. She removed a flashlight-she was wearing one of those f.a.n.n.y packs in black or dark blue, which I hadn't noticed before-but that meek circle of white light could barely shove back the dark, illuminating nothing but a handful of skinny tree-shins.

We followed no path. At first I tried keeping a mental Hansel and Gretel trail of crumbs, noticing the irregularities-discoloration of bark, okay, giant toadlike rock next to that dead tree, skeleton branches stretched out in an upside-down crucifixion, that's promising-but such distinctions were rare and ultimately pointless, and after five minutes, I stopped and walked blindly next to her, like a man no longer dog-paddling, allowing himself to drown.

"They'll be fine for a little while," she said. "But we don't have much time."

I don't know how long we walked. (In what turned out to be an unbearable oversight, I was not wearing a watch.) After ten minutes or so, she stopped suddenly, and, unzipping the pouch around her waist, removed a map-different from the one she'd given us, colored, much more detailed - as well as a tiny compa.s.s. She studied them.

"A little farther," she said.

We walked on.

It was odd, the blind way I followed, and even now, I can't quite explain why I went, without protest or questions or even fear. During those episodes in one's life in which one a.s.sumes a.s.sumes one will be paralyzed with dread, one isn't. I floated, as if I was doing nothing more than riding the mechanical brown canoe on the Enchanting Amazon River Ride at Walter's Wonderworld in Alpaca, Maryland. I noticed peculiar details: Hannah chewing the inside of her lip (the way Dad did when grading a unexpectedly apt paper), the toe of my leather boot kicking the flashlight beam, the pine trees' restless shifts and heaves, as if they were all unable to sleep, the way she placed her right hand, every minute or two, on that satchel clipped around her waist, like a pregnant women touching her stomach. one will be paralyzed with dread, one isn't. I floated, as if I was doing nothing more than riding the mechanical brown canoe on the Enchanting Amazon River Ride at Walter's Wonderworld in Alpaca, Maryland. I noticed peculiar details: Hannah chewing the inside of her lip (the way Dad did when grading a unexpectedly apt paper), the toe of my leather boot kicking the flashlight beam, the pine trees' restless shifts and heaves, as if they were all unable to sleep, the way she placed her right hand, every minute or two, on that satchel clipped around her waist, like a pregnant women touching her stomach.

She stopped walking and checked her watch.

"This is good," she said, turning off the flashlight.

Slowly my eyes calibrated to the darkness. We appeared to be standing in a spot we'd walked through five minutes before. I could make out the fine corduroy of all those trees enveloping us, and Hannah's rapt face, shiny, a sort of bluish mother-of-pearl.