“I don’t know,” Caro says.
The iron gate is padlocked shut. It’s flanked on either side by two plastic evergreen wreaths, which have been tied to the gates with twine. The fence comes up to Ash’s waist. It would be easy enough to hop over, but it feels like a desecration.
They walk silently along the fence, looking in at the graves. Ash breaksthe quiet. “It’s weird. Some of these stones are the same age, but some are so much more worn than others. And who would have expected the wooden ones would last so well?” They are splintered and beaten but remarkably legible. Many of the sandstone ones have been worn down, the details and dates erased.
“You disappear eventually no matter what,” Caro says quietly.
There’s a newer stone at the back, some kind of shiny granite laid almost flat into the ground, but they can’t get close enough to see it without climbing the fence. So they leave the graveyard behind and walk toward the town.
It’s still and hot. But the desert evening drop in temperature is coming, Ash can feel it. She’s afraid. It’s colder, too, because of what they have said to one another, things that can’t be taken back.
“We’re so far away from where we last saw Hope,” Caro says. “How would she even get here?” She glances at Ash. “Doyouknow?”
“The lurker wanted to drive us apart,” Ash says. “We can’t let them.” She takes a deep breath.Am I really going to do this?She is. “And you’re right. I’ve been keeping something from you.” They’re almost to the town. The dirt their feet kick up stings her eyes, but she’d be crying anyway even without it. “Hope intended to disappear in the Underground all along.”
“What?”Caro pulls up short. They’re in the middle of the road.
“She wanted to use herself as bait for the lurker,” Ash says. “She thought that if she disappeared, they’d follow her, and we’d be safe.”
“And you let herdothat? I thought we were going to do this together!”
Now the tears are spilling down Ash’s cheeks. “You think that anyone could ‘let’ Hope do anything?”
“What the hell was she thinking?” Caro asks. “She’d draw off someone who’d been stalking us and—what?” Her fists are clenched and the muscles in her neck are taut. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She didn’t tellme,” Ash says. “I figured it out. She was acting weird. I could tell she was hiding something. So I asked her what was going on.”
“And the two of you didn’t decide to fill me in?”
“We were trying to protect you,” Ash says. “And it’s not like Hope told meeverything, even when I figured part of it out.”
The cliffs around them are burning orange as the sun keeps on coming down.
“Hope trusted you more,” Caro says. “It’s as simple as that.” But her voice sounds lighter, and Ash knows what she’s about to ask.
“So she’sokay?” Caro’s voice is bright with hope. “I can’t believe it. Wesawher fall.”
But we didn’t see her land.
“I don’t know.” Ash’s heart aches. “I don’t know when she was planning on taking off on her own, but I don’t think it was right then. The flood—”
“Right.” Caro’s voice is grim again. “Even Hope Hanover can’t predict or control the weather.”
But Ash desperately wants Caro to keep hoping. She can’t do it alone. “I know she had canyoneering equipment with her in her backpack. She’d been rappelling before, and she also did a lot of climbing lessons at one point for her role inDownfall.”
“But none of this is what we agreed on,” Caro says. “We were supposed to stick together to lure the lurker. Weneverplanned for one of us to go off on our own.”
“Wedidn’t,” Ash says. “Hope had other ideas. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Caro.”
“It’s too late for that now.” Caro’s words sound bitten off at the edges. She’s angry. Ash doesn’t blame her, but she’s angry, too.
“Nothing went like she planned,” Ash says, after a moment. They are leaving footprints in the fine sandy dust of the road. “I don’t know if Hope’s still alive. I’ve been getting the same texts you are.” She laughs bitterly. “You accused me of being obsessed with her and of keeping things from you. I’m not obsessed with her, but I love her. Like I love you. And I did what she asked. That’s all. You don’t have to believe me, but I’d do the same for you, too.” She licks her lips. Her mouth is so dry. “I’m not saying that’s a good thing. I’m saying it’s true.”
“I do believe you,” Caro says, after a pause.
And then, here they are. In the town. A sandstone church with a wooden cupola stands across the street.Why sandstone for graves and churches?Ash wonders.Did they not know how fast it would erode? Did they care that they were making the monument to their faith out of the softest, slipperiest stone?
They walk through the two-story house nearest the church. It’s the fanciest dwelling in town, with gingerbread trim. It would be so much work to have anything nice out here, to keep a flower bed alive, to carve and then to protect and repaint any ornamentation you tried to have against the elements.
