Ranger

I sat down.

I leaned back against the wall.

I put my hand on the sheath knife I kept on my belt, which was the kind of knife that a backcountry ranger carries for utility and not for anything else.

But it was four and a half inches of high carbon steel, and it was sharp, and it was what I had.

I thought through my options.

The first option was to wake Trent and Elise quietly, tell them what I believed, and try to control the situation with the three of us against him.

The problem was that I didn't know if Trent and Elise were safe to wake.

If one of them was in on it, or if one of them was not actually who they said they were, then waking them would tip Dale off and put all four of us into a confrontation at once.

I didn't think Trent and Elise were in on it.

Their behavior through the hike and through the evening had been the behavior of real hikers who did not know each other.

but I wasn't certain.

The second option was to wait until Dale fell asleep, and then tie him up.

The problem was that I didn't believe he was going to sleep.

I had watched him sit on that bunk for an hour without moving, and I didn't think he was tired.

I thought he was waiting for me to sleep.

The third option was to confront him directly.

That was the worst option.

If he was armed, and I now believed he was, I would be initiating a fight in close quarters with two civilians in the room, in a shelter where a missed strike would puncture a wall or kick over the lantern or damage the stovepipe.

But it was also the option that kept the initiative with me.

He didn't know yet that I had made him.