We work our way down the wooded slope to the curving shoreline. Delphy drops her walking stick and backpack. She keeps going, right into the water, and doesn’t stop until she’s waist-high. “You have to do it, Sam,” she says, waving me to join her. “It’s amazing.”

I cast a wary eye for water snakes, but they like muddy bottoms and weeds and this is clear and sandy. Too inviting to resist. I don’t go in as deep as Delphy, not being as tall, but after days on the run, in the constant heat, the cool clean water is like heaven. I bend my knees and sink down, holding my breath as my head goes under. Amazing is right.

I come up spouting.

Delphy smooths the wet hair out of her eyes. “Where’s the camp?” she asks. “Which way?”

I close my eyes and picture what I saw from the top of the tree. “That way.” I point. “Somewhere along this shore.”

“Is it far?”

“I don’t know. A few miles? Maybe less.”

We slog out of the water. I start to shake myself dry and Delphy goes, “Hey, wait! My beach towel!” She pulls it out of the backpack and tosses it to me. “You first.”

I rub down fast and hand it back.

“Not what I had in mind when I thought I was going for a midnight swim.” Delphy, drying her hair, sounds almost cheerful. “Jason Dean, you don’t know what you missed.”

Should I tell her Jason Dean doesn’t exist? No, I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out.

I take off my shoes, dry them on the grass, and put them back on. Soggy, but tolerable. The only bad thing is the mosquitoes, but Delphy is in such a good mood, getting bit doesn’t seem to bother her. “Take a sip, everybody!” She holds her arms out to the bugs. “Come one, come all!”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy happy. There’s a difference.”

We prepare ourselves for a long hike, but the camp is much closer than I thought. Around the next bend, we come upon a curving notch of shoreline with a white sandy beach and volleyball courts. Back from the lake is a big, white-shingled building with two huge stone chimneys, one on each end. Along the edge of the lake are a dozen or so smaller buildings, similar to the cabins at Camp Wabanaski.

“Hello!” I shout. “Anybody home?”

Silence. As to be expected, the place was evacuated. We work our way around the main building, still shouting in case somebody stayed behind, and locate the entrance, which has a big banner strung along the porch roof:

MARVEL LAKE SURVIVAL SKILLS CAMP BUILDING STRENGTH, CHARACTER & ENDURANCE

Delphy shakes her head, laughing. “Just my luck, a survival camp. They probably eat nuts and berries.”

“There’s a dining hall inside.” I’m peering through the windows. “Check it out. Maybe you can find a phone. I’ll look for a road.”

“You want me to do the breaking and entering, is that it?” She sounds amused.

I try the latch. “No breaking required.” I swing open the unlocked door for her and turn to go. As I head out to look for a road, she cautions me. “Be careful.”

“Always. I won’t be long.”

A neatly landscaped gravel drive runs off into the woods, heading uphill. Could be several miles to a paved road, but I want to get some idea of what we’re up against. It’s really great we found the camp, which means shelter and water and probably food, even if it is nuts and berries, but there’s a tinge of smoke in the air, and we can’t be that many miles from the spreading lightning fire, or for that matter from the main fire line behind it. So the camp is temporary shelter, at best.

I start out jogging along the gravel road, hoping I can find some gasoline in the camp and a way to get the Jeep down from the logging trail. The lawns are mowed, so they must have power mowers, right? Unless survival camp means push mowers. Which is possible. No, don’t think that way. Be positive. One thing at a time. See where the gravel road goes, then worry about the Jeep.

I jog uphill for a mile or so in the crushing heat, sweat pouring into my eyes, until I get this pain in my side that feels like a knife shoved into my ribs. I rest for a bit, bent over and panting, and the pain eases. Okay, so I’m not exactly a track star. And I’m thinking maybe I don’t want to get too far along the gravel roadway, not just yet. What if I get cut off by the fire? Delphy on one side of the flames, me on the other?

It’s when I turn to go back that I notice the sign. Must have missed it with my eyes full of sweat. A little arrow-shaped sign nailed to a tree. Hand-painted but easy to read.

SR 12B—7.2 MILES

State Road 12B. No clue as to where it might lead, but chances are it will be a real paved road. It has to go somewhere that’s populated, or the state wouldn’t bother building a road, right? Somewhere with people, that’s all that matters.

I’m walking briskly when a bell begins to ring. Like the shimmering bong of a church bell, but that can’t be it. Maybe it’s an emergency signal. Maybe Delphy’s in trouble.

I start running.