“It is,” the woman answered, and moved her arm—she was checking her watch. “I saw your lights heading up the canyon. A little late to go camping?”

Alec reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded map. “We heard about Lake Powell,” he said, his voice grave. “We just wanted to get away from everything.” He pointed to something on the map. The woman listened intently as he talked, commenting on a few of the landmarks and laughing at his jokes.

Laura knew enough about law enforcement, however, to know that something was wrong. The man wasn’t paying attention to Alec; he was staring at Dan, and Laura’s tent. His hand rested uneasily on his radio.

How long had they been watching? Had they seen the guns? Alec had the rifle, and Dan had the pistol. Either one might have been left out, unhidden when the forest rangers showed up.

The tent’s zipper was going to be too noisy. Laura pivoted to the back side of the tent. Gently, she plunged her utility knife into the nylon wall of the tent and slid it upward. In ten silent seconds, Laura’s tent was open.

There was no reason for Laura to hold back. The worst-case scenario was she’d charge one and the other would go for their radio. But people didn’t act like that. They wouldn’t go for their radio and stand there waiting to be attacked. They’d run. And Laura could outrun either one.

“Just so you guys know,” the woman said, “it’s a red burn season, so no campfires.”

Yeah right, Laura thought. The rangers wouldn’t follow them here at four in the morning to give them a friendly reminder about fires.

Dan pointed toward Laura’s pack and talked with a mouth full of granola. “We’ve been using one of the small backpacking stoves. The salesman in town said it was legal.”

“It is,” the man said, obviously still nervous. “One more thing—have you been watching the news?”

“Listening to the radio,” Alec said. “But the reception’s not very good up here. Why?”

“Well—” The man stopped himself, as though he didn’t know what to say. “I was just . . . curious.”

“Don’t worry,” Alec said, laughing. “We’re not supposed to be in school or anything. Laura and I are nineteen.” He pointed toward her tent. “Dan’s eighteen—just graduated in June.”

“I’m sure everything is fine,” the woman said with a phony laugh. The man, more stilted, put the radio to his lips. “CC Eight, this is CC Station. CC Eight, this—”

Laura couldn’t wait any longer. She leapt from her hiding place, bounding across rocks with superhuman strength. It only took her two strides to reach the man and she brought her fist down hard on his hand, knocking the radio to the ground. She heard his bones break under her powerful blow. He stumbled and tripped on a root, falling on his back.

“Don’t move!” the woman shouted, her voice panicked. She’d yanked a canister of Mace from her belt, and she pointed it toward the group. With her other hand, she struggled to free the radio from its clip.

Dan was standing, his pistol leveled at the ranger.

“No, stop,” the woman said, pleading. “I don’t care who you are. I don’t think they should be locking people up, either.”

Laura still focused on the man, but her ears perked up.

“Drop the radio,” Alec said calmly.

She looked terrified. “Let him go!”

“Drop the radio,” Alec repeated, his voice quiet and cold. “I know you’re only a ranger, but allow me to explain something. The mace you’re holding is not going to stop a bullet.”

She was sweating despite the cool air, and her teeth were clenched as she looked back and forth between Dan and Alec.

“Drop—”

“Let him go,” she begged. “I won’t tell anyone you were here! Listen, I think what they’re doing is terrible. They took my little sister yesterday—I would love it if she could have escaped into the mountains like you.”

Alec paused for a moment. “Laura,” he finally said. Laura glanced at him and he pointed to the man on the ground in front of her. She smiled.

“Wait!” the woman shouted, but it was too late. In hardly a heartbeat, Laura yanked the man up by his crippled arm, then grabbed his collar and threw him backward through the night air. There was the sound of splintering trees and bones, and Alec refocused his attention on the woman.

She was crying now, and the mace fell from her fingers to the ground. Somewhere out of sight, the man was gasping his last breaths. Both walkie-talkies were squawking “CC Eight this is CC Station, come in. CC Three this is CC Station . . .”

Alec looked at Laura. “Get the radios.”

She took a deep breath and trekked barefoot over the rocky terrain to find the man and his radio. He was maybe twenty-five feet away, shattered and broken at the base of an uprooted tree.

She bent down to retrieve the gear, and then trudged back over to the woman, who merely stared at Laura, defeated, as she approached. The ranger was no match for any of them—smaller and lighter, without any combat training and now without even her mace. She didn’t even know who they were. Laura wondered if the woman had made the connection between them and the destroyed dam.

Laura stood in front of her, looked into the woman’s eyes, and unclipped her radio. “Don’t fight,” Laura said.

For some reason, Laura hoped this one lived. She looked . . . nice. Besides, forest rangers weren’t really law enforcement, were they? They weren’t the enemy.

“Please . . .” the woman started, but her voice trailed away into nothing.

“Now,” Alec said, leaning down to look at the ranger. He touched her name tag. “Ms. Brown. I have some questions for you.”

TWELVE

NO ONE WAS TALKING AS the bus pulled onto the highway.

Jack was laying his head back on the seat, but his eyes were open a thin slit. He didn’t look like he’d last long. Aubrey wished she could sleep. Normally after staying invisible as long as she had that night she’d nap all afternoon or go to bed early. She definitely wouldn’t stay up all night. But her heart wasn’t letting her relax—it was pounding in her chest, adrenaline pulsing through her arms and legs. It was claustrophobic and dark—she didn’t realize how much she relied on her ability to disappear until she felt completely trapped and knew that she couldn’t escape.

They stopped three times over the next few hours. Each one looked like a roadblock. Soldiers were on the road, fully armed and looking cautious and jumpy. Empty cars were pulled over on the side of the road into a jumble of makeshift parking lots. Beside the third roadblock several of the cars were blackened and burned, and at least one soldier appeared to be injured.

Their caravan was headed north, Aubrey was sure. She knew the road well enough—another fifty miles and they’d be in Salt Lake. But she didn’t know what that meant.

The eastern sky was turning a faint gray when they turned off the interstate and headed west. They passed the suburbs of Provo and were once again on narrow country roads that wound over low hills. Little rural towns that she’d never heard of before—Faust and Clover—whizzed past as the sun crested the mountains to the east.