my hands, staring wide-eyed at the lacing on my worn hiking boots. All the panic, all the boundless terror came pouring back, my thoughts running wild with images, possibilities.
They shot him. He found the poachers and they shot him.
No. I had to keep myself under control. I had to think about the five outside, who were—except for Sam, maybe—oblivious to the panic blossoming in my skull.
He’s just running late. He got caught up tracking with Theo, and now they’re hurrying back, probably driving too fast. That’s it! He got the car stuck, and they’re trying to dig Hank out of the sand.
I picked up the copy of my mom’s book and stared at the cover. It featured a photograph of her sitting on the back of an elephant somewhere near the border of Nepal, with me—just four years old, my hair wild and my face smudged and smiling—sitting in front of her. Her arm was around me, and she was looking down at me as I waved my hands above my head. Holding my breath, afraid I’d shake loose emotions I’d been keeping at bay for months, I brushed my fingers over her face. Then I cracked open the book and read the words scrawled across the title page in my mom’s messy cursive:
My Sarah, the wonder of my life.
I hugged the book to my chest for a moment, then set it aside.
I’d left my guests too long by themselves. Joey might have wandered off to God knows where. I picked up the radio, brushed it off, and clipped it to my pocket before going back outside.
Sure enough, there was one face missing from the circle around the campfire.
“Where’s Joey?” I asked, feeling the edge to my concern returning.
They all swiveled to face me and gave a unified shrug.
“He went that way,” said Sam, pointing toward the darkening bush.
I cursed under my breath and grabbed a flashlight from my tent before trudging in the direction he’d indicated. To my surprise, they all got up and followed.
“Maybe something ate him,” said Kase, and I could have sworn he sounded hopeful.
I found Joey’s tracks leading out of camp and followed them. The sun was sitting just on the horizon ahead, and light beamed through the trees and brush, giving the illusion that one of the infamous Kalahari brushfires was sweeping toward us.
The others clustered around me, probably feeling safer with the group. Sam gallantly held aside branches for me to pass through, while Avani plucked leaves from the bushes and pressed them into a notebook. There weren’t many around; it was winter, and few plants had retained their leaves.
In the distance, a haunting, almost-human howl rose from the bush. Avani grabbed my arm and Miranda and Kase came together like magnets.
“Easy, everyone. It’s just jackals,” I said.
“I thought they laughed,” said Kase.
“That’s
hyenas
, you idiot,” said Avani, letting go of my arm.
“Oh, well exc
use
us,” said Miranda. “It’s not our fault we spend more time in the
real world
than in a library.”
“Why are you even here?” asked Avani in a heated tone. “You obviously don’t care about the environment.”
“Whoa, whoa,
whoa.
I
don’t care about the environment?” Miranda put a hand to her collarbone, looking supremely offended. “Excuse me, Aveeno or whatever your name is, but
you’re
the one who heartlessly wolfed down that
burger
tonight. I’m vegan, you know!”
Avani rolled her eyes. “Eating a burger doesn’t—”
“Sh!” Sam held up a hand. “Be quiet! Did you hear that?”
While Avani and Miranda exchanged toxic glares, I strained to hear what Sam had: a voice. Joey. He was . . .
crying?
I broke into a run. The others jogged close on my heels; the camp was out of sight now and I knew they didn’t want to be left alone out here, so I slowed just enough for them to keep up. Joey’s voice grew louder. He wasn’t crying, I realized. He was laughing.
When we got close, I sprinted ahead, weaving through the thick bushes and startling a tiny steenbok out of hiding. The