eyeballed Pete, looked back at the bag, decided not to slither inside. Instead she sat in the gravel with her back to the wall and tugged the bag up over her knees to her neck, smoothed it down along her sides. She wasn’t going to get trapped again. Using it as a blanket, if she had to she could jettison it as a decoy, a distraction, like squid ink, a lizard’s tail. If he just didn’t get hold of her head or her hair. . .
—You stay there now.
Through the gloom she saw him cross himself. —Cross my heart. I swear.
Too much adrenalin coursed through her yet to sleep. That and she knew she needed to pee soon. Which had been a problem the entire trip. Earlier she at least had Ron to keep lookout. Now? She could retreat to the corner opposite from Pete—or the entrance—but she had no way to keep him from staring at her all the while. She tensed at the thought of squatting, watching out for Pete spying on her, and trying to get low enough not to spatter. She’d almost rather pee guy style over the edge and take her chances with the monster.
And what about Pete? How long before he too needed to pee? Would he somehow exploit that necessity as an opportunity to expose himself to her—and that exposure to initiate something worse? Their situation made the simplest things suddenly unpleasant and complex.
She could wet herself under her cover, but she wasn’t ready to go that far just yet. If they got out of here they were presumably going to the police or a ranger station, and she didn’t want to go like that. Jeans pee-stained and reeking would not be an asset to her credibility. She considered her options. Pee herself where she sat. Pee at the entrance, which was probably how that thing got Ron. Get as far from Pete as she could to pee, which would not be far in this little cave.
She clenched against an urge fast becoming a throbbing ache, knowing she could hold it only so much longer before the choice would be made for her. Not much longer.
After several minutes fidgeting she turned slowly toward Pete. Just then Pete spoke —I’ve got to take a leak, and I don’t want to go up to the edge, not with that thing out there. Will you look away till I’m done? I’ll do the same for you if you want me to. Promise.
That was unexpected. But he sounded sincere, so far as she could tell. As if she wanted to watch him anyway. . . Of course he could always rush her if she looked away. And why shouldn’t she go first? Then again, if he took his turn without doing anything weird, wouldn’t she feel safer addressing her own need? After a moment to ponder she said —Okay, deal , and faced to her right, cheek pressed against the vaguely moist rear wall of the cave. —Just tell me when you’re done, okay?
She heard his boots grind over the pebbles, then faintly his stream as it spattered the wall. She pictured him trying to write his initials or some stupid thing, but knew that probably wasn’t true. He spoke before he was done —Oh shit.
—What? She answered but did not turn.
—It just hit me. Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time. It’s still an hour earlier here.
—What time is your phone set to? Mountain or Arizona? It doesn’t matter unless you changed it for here.
—No. It’s still set for Albuquerque. Mountain.
—Then sunrise should be around when we’re expecting it. Pause. —Can I turn around now?
Faint, she heard him zip up. —Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’m done.
—Check your phone. What’s it say?
She turned now, watched him struggle to dredge the device from his pocket. Then he found it, flicked it open and thumbed it on. And waited. For nothing. —It’s dead.
He tucked it back in his pocket and slumped as he sat, for several seconds his outline dissolving even further in the shadows, and then he came straight again sudden enough to make her jerk backward even though he was nowhere close.
—I’m going to get something out of my pack, okay? I promise I won’t come near you, so
—You stay there now.
Through the gloom she saw him cross himself. —Cross my heart. I swear.
Too much adrenalin coursed through her yet to sleep. That and she knew she needed to pee soon. Which had been a problem the entire trip. Earlier she at least had Ron to keep lookout. Now? She could retreat to the corner opposite from Pete—or the entrance—but she had no way to keep him from staring at her all the while. She tensed at the thought of squatting, watching out for Pete spying on her, and trying to get low enough not to spatter. She’d almost rather pee guy style over the edge and take her chances with the monster.
And what about Pete? How long before he too needed to pee? Would he somehow exploit that necessity as an opportunity to expose himself to her—and that exposure to initiate something worse? Their situation made the simplest things suddenly unpleasant and complex.
She could wet herself under her cover, but she wasn’t ready to go that far just yet. If they got out of here they were presumably going to the police or a ranger station, and she didn’t want to go like that. Jeans pee-stained and reeking would not be an asset to her credibility. She considered her options. Pee herself where she sat. Pee at the entrance, which was probably how that thing got Ron. Get as far from Pete as she could to pee, which would not be far in this little cave.
She clenched against an urge fast becoming a throbbing ache, knowing she could hold it only so much longer before the choice would be made for her. Not much longer.
After several minutes fidgeting she turned slowly toward Pete. Just then Pete spoke —I’ve got to take a leak, and I don’t want to go up to the edge, not with that thing out there. Will you look away till I’m done? I’ll do the same for you if you want me to. Promise.
That was unexpected. But he sounded sincere, so far as she could tell. As if she wanted to watch him anyway. . . Of course he could always rush her if she looked away. And why shouldn’t she go first? Then again, if he took his turn without doing anything weird, wouldn’t she feel safer addressing her own need? After a moment to ponder she said —Okay, deal , and faced to her right, cheek pressed against the vaguely moist rear wall of the cave. —Just tell me when you’re done, okay?
She heard his boots grind over the pebbles, then faintly his stream as it spattered the wall. She pictured him trying to write his initials or some stupid thing, but knew that probably wasn’t true. He spoke before he was done —Oh shit.
—What? She answered but did not turn.
—It just hit me. Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time. It’s still an hour earlier here.
—What time is your phone set to? Mountain or Arizona? It doesn’t matter unless you changed it for here.
—No. It’s still set for Albuquerque. Mountain.
—Then sunrise should be around when we’re expecting it. Pause. —Can I turn around now?
Faint, she heard him zip up. —Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’m done.
—Check your phone. What’s it say?
She turned now, watched him struggle to dredge the device from his pocket. Then he found it, flicked it open and thumbed it on. And waited. For nothing. —It’s dead.
He tucked it back in his pocket and slumped as he sat, for several seconds his outline dissolving even further in the shadows, and then he came straight again sudden enough to make her jerk backward even though he was nowhere close.
—I’m going to get something out of my pack, okay? I promise I won’t come near you, so
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