Matt

He climbed up into the rooftop tent, unzipped the flap, and disappeared.

The glow from his headlamp seeped through the fabric above us for a while, then clicked off.

I'm gonna hit the bushes, Miguel said, standing up and grabbing his own flashlight.

Desert etiquette.

You always announce when you're stepping out of camp at night.

Not because you expect something to happen, but because if it does, someone knows you didn't just wander off in your sleep.

You want me to tag along?

I asked.

I'll be fine.

If I'm not back in five minutes, assume I got eaten by those demon donkeys you guys were talking about.

He walked away, beam of light bouncing on the scrub, then slipping over the edge of the wash.

The sound of his footsteps crunched on the gravel for a few seconds, then faded.

I poked the fire and tossed on another piece of wood.

The flames leapt higher, chasing the shadows back for a moment before they crept in again.

That's when I heard my name.

Hey Matt, it came from behind me, a few yards away.

Miguel's voice.

Casual, like he was asking me to pass something.

I turned, expecting to see his flashlight coming back up from the wash.

There was nothing there, just darkness and the low blank slope of the washbank.