Ranger

I understood that he had, at some point, acquired a permit in the name of Clark Morrison, 53 regional sales manager from Boise, Idaho, because the real Clark Morrison was somewhere in these mountains and would never be coming back.

I understood that I was in a 16 by 20 foot shelter with him, in a storm that would last through the night, with two hikers asleep on the other side of the room, and that the radio was not working, and that no one was coming until morning."

I understood that he had picked this permit window because the forecast had called for a storm and he had gambled correctly that the weather would provide him cover.

I understood that he had filed the two other permits himself, one in the name of Trent Weller and one in the name of Elise Varga, and that Trent and Elise might have been real people whose information he had stolen, or they might have been real hikers who had shown up at the trailhead that morning thinking they were part of a normal group trip.

I didn't know yet which.

I understood that if I did not act carefully in the next several hours, the three of us were going to be listed in the district log as missing persons by the afternoon of October 13th.

I kept my face flat.

I took a slow breath.

I said,

I'm going to add to the stove.

You want me to pour you more coffee?

He said, I'm fine.

Thanks, Ranger.

I stood up.

I walked to the stove.

I opened the door.

I added two pieces of split pine.

I closed the door.

I turned around.

I walked back to my bunk.