Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Michael,” Pam said from her desk. Michael pretended to not have heard her. “Michael,” she said, louder this time. 

“Yes, Pam?” he asked. 

“I don’t think that’s going to fit through the door.”

Michael, bent at the waist by the entrance to the office, stood up straight with a sigh. He turned to face Pam, met eyes with Jim as he did so. 

“What is that?” Jim asked as he craned to see.

“It’s a tent,” replied Pam. “Michael, why didn’t you wait until it was in here to pop it up?”

“It popped up by itself in the elevator,” Michael muttered as he turned back to the tent, gripped it by the base, pulled it repeatedly against the doorway. The tent narrowed as its elastic beams bent, a promising sign. 

“Why does he have a tent in the first place?” Jim asked her.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet,” Michael called back. “Just, shhhh— just forget about it until later, alright?”

“What time do you want me to remember it? For my calendar,” Jim said.

“You hear that everyone? Jim’s actually using a calendar!” Dwight mocked under his breath. He hadn’t looked up once from the pricing form he’d been highlighting. 

“Do you need some help with that?” Pam asked Michael. 

“No, I don’t need help getting a tent through a door…” Michael gave a large heave, the tent finally slid through the entrance and burst into the office. Michael stumbled, caught himself on the arm of the couch, collapsed backwards onto it. Dwight’s head shot up in mild interest. “God!” 

“A pop-up tent? Please,” Dwight said. “You people are so coddled. Not only are you so afraid of the elements that you’d defeat the purpose of camping by bringing your own artificial shelter along… but modern comforts have also made you so lethargic and braindead that even your tent has to put itself up for you. If you really cared to experience the outdoors, you’d find yourself a cave.”

“Hold on.” Jim turned to Dwight, a red gel pen pressed to his lips. “Aren’t you always going on about bears?” 

“If you had asked me that same question during hibernation season, you would be raising an intelligent point,” Dwight sneered. “It’s August, Jim. Black bears barely sleep at all through the summer, they’ll be out and about, not hanging around in caves. Also, caves aren’t the only places they make their dens. They can just as easily find a hollowed-out tree, a brush pile, or dig one out under a rock.”

“Well, what about people who want to camp in winter? As you said, you’re not so afraid of the elements that a little snow and ice would intimidate you,” Jim replied.

“Of course not,” Dwight blinked. “Easy question: don’t venture into any cave you can’t see the back of with a flashlight. No matter the season, black bears could be anywhere in the forest. Caves are no more dangerous than any other place a bear could make its den. In winter, if a cave is clear, you can rest assured it will stay clear: black bears don’t move around during hibernation.” Dwight looked Jim up and down, gave a contemptuous sniff. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about a black widow or brown recluse. Stick to the small stuff, city mouse.”

Pam glanced away from their conversation to peer through the blinds of the conference room. She got a glimpse at Michael’s hands, which were placing various objects on the table. She stood and made her way to the door, rapped on it with the backs of her knuckles. 

“I’m not ready yet,” Michael called.

“It’s Pam. Do you need me to help you with anything?” 

“Actually, yeah.” Michael cracked the door, handed Pam his car keys. “Could you run down to my car and get my gas siphon? It’s on the floor in the back seat.” 

“Your… what?”

“Well, it’s more just a long tube attached to a canister… um, do you know how to siphon gas from a car? I need you to suck some out of my car and bring it up here.”

“Suck, like, use a pump, or…”

“A pump? No, no, just use your mouth. That’s what she said. You’ll have to suck until a little bit gets in your mouth, just to get it going, but it’s safe as long as you don’t swallow it… wow, that’s really what she said! Um, here,” Michael disappeared for a moment, a plastic bag rustled. He returned with a marshmallow, which he stuck through the door’s gap into Pam’s palm. “This should help with the aftertaste. I just need enough gas for demonstration purposes.”

“...To demonstrate what?” 

“A portable gas stove. Now, can you hurry it up, please? I opened the graham crackers at midnight yesterday and I think they’re going stale.”

“Okay, but is that even the same sort of gas—”

“No time, Pam!” Michael exclaimed as his mouth twitched into a grin. “I can’t wait any longer!”

Pam headed to the exit as Michael shooed her away, shared a glance with Jim, gave him an exaggerated shrug. As she waited by the elevator, she felt a forceful tap on the shoulder. She spun with a gasp to face Dwight.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said in a low voice. “Whatever Michael has asked you to do, don’t do it. I have spare propane canisters in my trunk specifically for portable gas stoves.”

“Wouldn’t you consider gas stoves a ‘modern comfort’?” Pam asked. Dwight’s mouth fell open. 

“Oh, yeah, because I’m just going to stumble upon an oil reservoir in Scranton, PA.” The elevator doors opened, they stepped inside, a synchronised movement. Dwight hit the ground floor button, glanced at the marshmallow in Pam’s hand. “You know what I’d call modern comforts? Microwaves. Electric stoves. Any sort of oven that plugs into the wall. Those things aren’t natural. I never said I used the propane for a gas stove, anyway.”

“Why do you have propane canisters in your trunk, then?” she asked as they began the descent. Dwight laughed low in his throat and gave no answer. “Do you know what Michael’s up to?”

“Clearly, he’s preparing a presentation about camping.”

“So we’re all going camping?”

“I couldn’t say,” Dwight replied. “I wouldn’t put it past Michael to just want to talk to us about camping.”

“I couldn’t either,” Pam considered. “Or maybe he’s just ‘going camping’ in the conference room.”

“He had better not be,” Dwight remarked as the elevator doors opened. “That would be downright insulting. What sort of survival skills would that entail? What sort of mountaineering knowledge would come into play? I dread to think of the first aid training Michael would attempt to sell us on.”

They exited into the morning sunlight. Pam followed Dwight to his car. “Yeah, I can imagine him teaching us how to properly treat a papercut,” she said. Dwight laughed. 

“Or knot-tying! Uh, durrr, here’s how you tie a half-windsor,” he joked as he opened his trunk. He pushed aside all sorts of weapons, supplies, and miscellaneous objects to retrieve a small propane bottle. He shut the trunk again, handed it to Pam. “Are you going to eat that marshmallow?”

“Oh,” she said. “Do you want it?”

Dwight’s lips formed a shape that looked as though it wanted to say ‘no,’ before he paused, glanced around the parking lot, dropped his eyes, and gave a small nod. She handed it to him. “Thanks.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking marshmallows, Dwight.”

“That would be true if human beings were designed to suck endless tubes of gelatinous, processed goop into our mouths for sustenance,” he replied. “Though I suppose if I can enjoy a sausage or a chicken nugget, I’d be a hypocrite to avoid a marshmallow.”

Pam thought about it for a moment as Dwight opened the building’s front door for her. “That’s a fair point.”

They returned upstairs to see Michael ushering people into the conference room.

“Come on, come on! Stanley, Creed, Angela, everyone, chop chop, I’ve got a surprise waiting!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands from the doorway as people shuffled in. “Where’s Pam… there she is! Ah, you found an actual canister? Wow, even better! Alright, come on, everyone in!” 

When the workers had all taken their seats, Michael stood in front of them, took a moment to center himself, then gave a golf clap and leaned toward his audience. His delight was unmistakable. “Two days ago, corporate contacted me with a wonderful team building concept. All the branches have been asked to spend the long weekend on their own individually organised camping trips to raise awareness for our new environmentally conscious line of paper.”

“How do you make an environmentally conscious line of paper?” Stanley asked. 

“Ah, Mr. Once-ler, that exact question is why corporate wants us to do this.”

“Camping is so gross,” said Kelly. “I mean, why even do it unless you’re homeless? We all have houses. The whole reason we live in houses is so we don’t have to sleep on leaves and mud!” 

“Speak for yourself,” Creed responded. 

“Is this being paid for by the company?” asked Phyllis. 

“You can’t put a price on the great outdoors!” Michael exclaimed. “Anyway, camping is free, what’s the problem? Corporate told me that all those who partake in the camping trip will have Monday covered as a paid vacation.” 

“So it’s not mandatory?” Angela asked.

“Umm… no, no, it is,” Michael said.

“He’s lying.”

“Do you want money for doing nothing on Monday or not?” Michael exclaimed. “God, people, can you have a little enthusiasm about anything? Is that too much to ask? Look, I’ve taken the liberty to bring in various things you may encounter on your camping travels…” Michael gestured to his display.

“The implication being that you think there are people in this room who have never been camping,” Jim commented. 

“Unlike you, Jim, I don’t make assumptions about people’s camping experiences or physical limitations. I’m not… disabledist.” Michael picked up a geiger counter. “Now, who knows what this is?” 

“That’s a geiger counter,” Dwight answered.

“Nope, wrong! This is a GPS. See, if I turn it on…” Michael pressed a button, the geiger counter began to click slowly. He frowned, raised it above his head, the clicking sped up. 

“There seems to be radiation coming from the ceiling,” Dwight said. 

“Oh my god, I was right,” Toby mumbled from the back. “We have radon in the conference room…”

“Quiet, both of you! It clicks like that when…  you’re…  facing north.” Michael threw the geiger counter back on the table.

“Where did you even get one of those?” Jim asked. 

“Michael, what’s that?” Pam asked with faint alarm as she gestured to an object leaned against the back wall. 

“That, dear Pamela, is a hatchet. It has a triple purpose: gathering firewood, hacking off frostbitten limbs, and defending against animals and/or wild bushmen.”

“A hatchet as a weapon?” Dwight chuckled. “Try a machine gun.”

“Okay, answer me honestly, Dwight: do you think I have a machine gun? Do you really?” Michael asked with a stern gaze. Dwight shifted in his chair, looked away. “That’s what I thought. Now, for the main event, here is my portable gas stove. It’s how we will be cooking our food.”

“All our food?” Ryan asked, a skeptical tone. 

“That thing could barely cook one tin of beans,” Creed said.

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to build a big fire?” asked Phyllis. 

“Yeah, come on, Michael,” Andy chipped in. “A fire is like, the main event of any camping trip. That’s where you tell ghost stories and sing songs!”

“Plus, it’s super romantic,” Phyllis continued. “Oh, Michael, will we be allowed plus-ones?”

“This isn’t your cousin’s wedding, Phyllis, this is about surviving together as a family.” Michael connected the propane tank to the gas stove. “God, fine, you can bring Bob Vance. But that’s it, everyone, you got that? She’s the exception, not the rule. Only because she’ll be unbearable without him.”

“I’d say Bob Vance is equally unbearable,” Ryan commented. Phyllis gave him a death-stare. 

“Michael, will we have to pool all our food together and share it out equally?” Kevin asked. Michael stood up straight, chewed his lip as he thought about this. 

“No,” he decided. “Everyone, bring your own food and drinks. No sharing, either, it encourages bears.” Kevin gave a massive sigh of relief, which melted into an apple-cheeked grin. 

“Maybe we should go outside to watch you light that,” Pam suggested. 

“It’s just a tiny thing, Pam, what’s it gonna do? Singe your eyebrows off?”

“She draws them on, I saw her doing it in the bathroom last year,” Kelly said.

Pam ignored her. “Well, do you know how to use a gas burner?”

“If I can operate my stove, I think I can work out how to use this,” Michael retorted. He then returned his focus to the stove, his hands hovered cluelessly above it. 

“Are you sure—”

“I’m just gathering my thoughts!” Michael exclaimed. His hands didn’t move. “Dwight, how about you demonstrate, so I know somebody else can do it in case I get separated from the group.”

“Certainly,” Dwight said. He got the stove going. Michael attempted to stick a flimsy plant stem through a marshmallow. 

“You couldn’t find a twig?” Jim asked. 

“I thought it would be soft enough for a marshmallow,” Michael grumbled as he gave up. “Does anyone have a pencil I could use?”

“You want graphite in your marshmallow?”

“I’ll just use the end without the point.”

“The whole pencil has… graphite in it…” 

“God, okay, look, someone get me a metal paperclip… Pam, run out and find one.”

Pam left the conference room, retrieved a paperclip from reception, brought it back to Michael. He straightened it out and stuck it through the marshmallow. He held it over the stove until it charred, then smooshed it between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. “Aaaand voilà. Who would like the first s’more?”

“Ooh, me!” Kevin exclaimed. Michael passed him the s’more, Kevin chewed on it. He stopped after a few seconds. “It tastes like gas, Michael.” After another few seconds, he resumed chewing. 

“Now, we leave together from the parking lot this Saturday morning at nine thirty. I have hired a bus. I’ll be sending out a memo this afternoon with more information and a list of things to pack,” Michael informed.

“Will there be hiking involved?” asked Angela.

“There will be a short half hour hike to the campsite,” Michael replied. 

“How steep?” Phyllis asked, uneasy. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never been there before. Bring comfortable shoes!” 

During lunch, Jim took a seat beside Pam in the breakroom. She had been musing so intently over Michael’s memo she hadn’t noticed him enter. 

“You scared me, Halpert.”

“Be still your beating heart.”

“Did you read Michael’s memo? He listed ‘magic kit’ under essential items. Does he expect us all to bring our own magic kits, or was that just a reminder for himself?”

“My favourite is ‘one pair of jeans.’ So simple, so subtle, so poetic… how could such a mundane statement leave me with such an endless amount of questions?”

Pam laughed. “I hadn’t even noticed it!”

Dwight entered the break room, hovered behind them as he peered into one of the vending machines. “I suppose neither of you have camped since you were children,” he said.

“Actually, I go camping with my brothers a couple times a year,” Jim said. 

“Oh, yeah, I bet you all stay in a lodge.” 

“We… do,” Jim mumbled. 

A packet slammed to the bottom of the vending machine, Dwight fished it out of the slot, took a seat across from them at their table. “Michael may be the boss of this branch, but once we’re out there, your best chances at surviving will involve following my every instruction. If you do not take me seriously, there is nothing I can do to protect you. Nor will I want to.”

“You think we might die?” Pam asked. Dwight stared at her, nodded gravely.

“There is always a high risk when those used to suburban lifestyles venture into the wilderness. Types such as yourself are so subscribed to the idea that man has somehow conquered or dominated nature… in actuality, all human beings have done is separated themselves from the natural world. The realm we once thrived in through millions of years of evolution is one we now need manuals to navigate.”

“Huh. I thought you were a creationist,” Jim said.

Dwight’s eyes narrowed. “Try making one of those little comments when you’ve fallen fifty feet down a gorge, shattered both ankles, and need me to carry you to an adequate landing location for a rescue helicopter.”

“I guess in that scenario putting a ‘kick me’ sign on your back is out of the question,” said Jim. Dwight stared at him. “You know, since I broke my legs.”

“I hope you do break your legs,” Dwight snapped as he stood and made his way to the door.

“Dwight!” Pam exclaimed. Dwight paused, his back to them, one hand on the doorframe. He looked over his shoulder with a grunt.

“Fine. I didn’t mean that, Jim.” He left the room.

“You really have him where you want him,” Jim said in astonishment. 

“He loves me, we both know this. And I know he loves you too.”

“Come on,” Jim laughed. “I love him, but it’s all one-way.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pam asked. “Jim, you guys are basically best friends.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Well, best guy-friends.”

“If only there was a way you could make me believe you,” Jim smiled as he sipped his soda. Pam thought about this for a moment.

“Maybe there is.”

“Oh? I can’t help but feel like you’re about to start scheming.” 

“Jim, you should totally fake some sort of injury. Nothing serious enough to panic him, but also nothing too mild where he won’t help you.”

“How is that a prank?”

“This isn’t about pranking him, it’s about showing you that he does care about you.”

“Pam, I’m telling you it’s not going to turn out how you think it will. He’ll mock me the whole trip for getting myself hurt.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Didn’t he just claim, in his fantasy about you falling into a gorge, that he’d be the one carrying you to safety?” 

“I suppose you raise a point… well, I’ll add that to my brainstorm. Maybe I could tie it into something more prank-y. Some way or another, I have to mess with him this weekend.”

“I wouldn’t think anything otherwise.”

On Saturday morning, everyone gathered in the parking lot and awaited the bus Michael hired. Jim had gravitated to the warehouse guys, who stood away from the group, grumbling that they hadn’t been offered to join in on the trip even though none of them would have agreed to come regardless. Angela was rifling through the ‘supplies’ Kevin brought, scolding him for the sheer amount of non-dehydrated food, which would most certainly attract bears, while Dwight looked on in admiration. Meredith and Creed were screwing around with Michael’s portable gas stove while Toby watched in concern; they were experimenting with dropping twigs and dead leaves into the flames. Andy and Oscar were scrolling through one-another’s MP3s, offering delighted little laughs when they found a song they liked in the other man’s library. Stanley, Phyllis, Bob Vance, Kelly, and Ryan stood in a circle and complained about various aspects of the trip-to-come. Michael, arms folded, stood out on the sidewalk, glanced left and right along the road for any sign of the bus. Pam stood beside him, wringing her hands behind her back. 

“It’ll be here any moment.”

“Are you sure you… hired a bus… the proper way?”

“Yes, Pam, I’m not stupid enough to get something like that wrong. I called a company, the guy talked me through it, we came to an agreement. It’s not like I’m being scammed, I don’t pay until he’s here. Speaking of calling, I ought to give them a ring… see what the hold up is…” Michael patted the pockets of his shorts. “Ah, wait, that’s right. No technology allowed. I left my phone at home.”

Pam frowned. “We didn’t know there’s no technology allowed.” 

“Uh-huh, ah, were cellphones on the memo, Pam?”

“No, but we just—”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought one!” Michael grinned widely. 

“Well, you didn’t list underwear, either.”

“The cavemen went commando, therefore so do I.”

“Did cavemen have New Balance sneakers?” Pam asked. Michael shook his head with a scoff. A moment later, a bus appeared in front of them. The workers cheered, the driver stepped out. 

“I’m looking for Michael Scott?” the driver called.

“Right here,” Michael smiled. “All aboard!”

“No, no, hold on, I need to have a word with you. There’s an issue with your route.”

“Well,” Michael said. “Okay, lay it on me.”

“Um, the issue is actually… about ninety percent of the route. Where you’re asking me to take you isn’t an incline a bus this size can safely drive on… nor is it suitable terrain, because it isn’t an actual road… nor is the road even wide enough, because it’s more of a hiking trail…”

“Oh, Michael,” Pam groaned. Michael waved his hand at her.

“Okay, well, how far can you take us?”

“I can take you to the base of the trail,” the driver responded. Michael dragged his hands down his face. 

“That’s only ten minutes out the way!”

“I’m really sorry about this, sir. If we had noticed it earlier we would have let you know, but unfortunately we’re so busy we don’t look over routes until the day-of, and this sort of thing has never happened before… we’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

“God, okay…” Michael groaned. He placed his hands on his knees as his workers watched him curiously. “Okay, well, it means this will be a proper hike, then.”

“How long will it be now?” Phyllis asked.

“Um… to the campsite?” Michael bit his lip. 

“Where else?” Stanley grumbled.

“We’re thinking… five…” Michael trailed off.

“What?”

“Five… hours…? Maybe?” 

“Michael!” the group exclaimed. 

“Can’t we find an easier spot?” Pam asked. 

“Look, look, there will be plenty of campsites along the path, we don’t have to do the whole hike. When someone collapses, that’ll decide where we stop, alright?”

“So… you still want to hire the bus?” asked the bus driver. “For ten minutes?”

“Yes I would,” Michael said. “All aboard!”

At the base of the trail, Dwight took the liberty of assigning the workers into groups of three. The function of the groups was to ensure at all times that nobody from one group was out of the other member’s sight. Dwight, Jim, and Pam formed Group Alpha. Michael, Ryan, and Kelly formed Purple Group. Kevin, Angela, and Oscar formed Group Two, until Kevin traded places with Andy to be in Group Awesome which was the only group of four, containing Stanley, Phyllis, and Bob Vance (Kevin joined because he knew Phyllis had brought her homemade baking). The final group was made up of Meredith, Toby, and Creed, dubbed by Michael to be Group Leftovers. 

They set off on the hike, with Purple Group in the lead, followed by Group Alpha, then Group Two, then Group Leftovers, with Group Awesome dead last. After five minutes of walking, wherein Group Awesome had already fallen a hundred feet behind, Michael realised the flaw in this order and decided that Group Awesome should walk in front to set the pace for the rest of the group. After that, they progressed much slower, which was acceptable for the majority of the workers aside Dwight, who muttered to Jim and Pam that he had already figured out the order in his mind of who would be most and least likely to die on this trip. When Jim asked to hear the list, Dwight snorted and told him he would never, in a million years, pry it from his cold, dead brain. 

“So you think you’ll die?” Jim asked.

“Idiot. It would be almost impossible for me to die on this trip. I rank the lowest.”

“Even lower than me?”

“Obviously. You’re fairly high on the list, though not above Andy, Phyllis, Kevin, or Kelly.”

“Jim will die before me?” Pam asked.

“Not long before you. You’re only a few ranks below him. You and Jim are sandwiching Stanley, Michael, Toby, and Ryan.”

“I’ll die before Meredith?”

“What an ignorant question. Meredith’s immune system is flooded with powerful antibodies through her many exposures to germs. She’s only two ranks above me, with Creed one below her.”

“So where’s Oscar?” asked Pam.

“Right below you.”

“Is that everyone?” Jim asked. 

“I believe so,” Pam replied. 

“Wh…” The realization dawned on Dwight. “Aha! That was not the real list! I hope you enjoyed your moment of sweet victory, for I have just made it oh-so-bitter!”

The workers made their way up the gradual incline. Dry dirt cracked beneath their sneakers as the sun began to beat down. Thankfully, there were plenty of pockets of shade as the canopies grew thicker and more foreboding. Dwight named and described, projecting his voice so everyone could hear, each and every tree, plant, and animal they happened to come across. When Jim picked up a rock and asked Dwight whether it was igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic, Dwight snatched the rock from his hand and threw it into the bushes. 

“A rock’s a rock,” he said. 

“That is true. What I wanted to know, however, was whether it was igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic.” 

“It was ignorant, stupid, and moronic. Oh, wait, that’s you.”

“Good one,” Jim said, mildly astonished. 

About an hour into the hike, Michael stopped the group and stood atop a large, flat stone. 

“As we further immerse ourselves into these woods, I would also like us to further immerse ourselves into the wild mentally. ” He fished in his pocket and pulled out an empty plastic bag which had once contained marshmallows. “This means disconnecting from technology. No more cellphones, no more MP3s. Oh, quit your groaning, you bunch of whiners! They’re just going in this plastic bag. It’s not like they’re going away for good. If it makes you feel better, you can have your phone back at any time. This is just a requirement to help you engage with the natural world.”

The group grumbled and, one by one, dropped their phones and MP3 players into Michael’s bag. He twisted it closed, tied it shut with a rubber band, and placed the bag into his backpack. They continued on their way. After another forty five minutes, Kevin sat down and refused to move. Sweat poured from his face as he wheezed at the exertion. A majority of the group commended him for his effort having made it thus far. It was not an easy task for someone who didn’t regularly exercise. Almost everyone had been feeling pretty worn out by that point. 

Michael, however, wanted to keep going, as did Dwight. 

“Come on, Kevin, if we just walked for another half hour we’d get a much better view, I just know it!” 

“Michael, all I’ve seen this whole time have been trees, and that’s all I’m going to continue to see,” Kevin shot back. 

“Come on, Michael, we at least need to eat and take a break. How about we have a picnic here and see how we feel after lunch?” Pam suggested. Michael rolled his eyes, but agreed. They found a nearby clearing, set up blankets to sit on, and ate together.

“Remember, people, do not leave scraps behind, only take from your containers what you intend to eat, take one of my bear-resistant sacks to seal your food if you haven’t already…” Dwight informed as he patrolled back and forth between the smaller sub-groups. 

“Hey, Oscar, can you believe this?” Andy asked.

“Believe what?” Oscar replied as he ate a granola bar.

“That Dwight is so worried about bears.”

“It’s a real concern.”

Andy snorted. “Yeah… is it really, though?”

“There are over 10,000 black bears in Pennsylvania alone,” Dwight said as he loomed behind Andy. “I would take the threat seriously if I were you, which is not a thing I would ever want to be.”

“What happens if we do see a bear?” Andy shuddered. 

“If it’s brown, lie down,” Dwight announced to the group. “If it’s black, fight back. If it’s white, goodnight. Here in Scranton, you only have to worry about black bears. If you see a black bear, do not approach it, but do not run, either. Slowly back away, never taking your eyes from it. If she is with her cubs, be especially cautious, because she may become aggressive. However, by nature, black bears avoid conflict. If you make yourself big and loud, they will startle and run away. For the most part, they only come near us if they smell our food.” 

“They don’t sound so scary when you put it that way,” Jim said. Dwight spun to face him.

“That may have been the stupidest thing to have ever come from your mouth, and you have said enough stupid things to last a thousand lifetimes, Jim. I’d like to see you underestimate a black bear when you have no arms or legs!”

“Oh, you would like to see it? How can I make that happen?”

“Just be yourself for long enough and it’s inevitable, idiot.”

After lunch, Kevin discerned that he probably had another thirty minutes in him, and the group continued to walk. It helped that the path had flattened considerably since the initial incline, leading to a more leisurely trek along the winding path. Andy picked wildflowers along the way and dispersed them among the group, encouraging everyone to put a flower behind their ear. He worked on a flower necklace as he walked and, upon completion, presented it to Oscar, who was too non-confrontational to reject it. 

At some point, Creed disappeared, though neither member of his group, Meredith nor Toby, commented on it. 

As they came to a river Michael asked the group to stop so he could go take a pee. He disappeared into the bushes, continually glanced over his shoulder until he was certain he was out of sight, then slipped off his backpack, unzipped it, squatted down by the river, and carefully placed the bag of phones and MP3s among a group of rocks in the stream. He made sure it was secure enough to not float away. For good measure, he left his GPS (geiger counter) on the ground beside the river. He then made his way back, hiding a triumphant expression as best he could. They set off again, and after another twenty minutes, uncovered a clearing that would make for a perfect campsite. Everyone set down their bags where they wanted their tents to be. Michael and Stanley were staying in their own one-person tents. Several pairs were sharing a tent: Jim and Pam, Andy and Oscar, Ryan and Kelly. The rest of the group — Meredith, Toby, Phyllis, Bob, Kevin, and Creed (wherever he was) — were staying in a large communal tent, big enough to comfortably host eight people. Dwight was not staying in any sort of tent: he was hellbent on being as close to nature as possible. While the others set up their tents (Michael’s one being by far the quickest to erect), Dwight collected large branches to lean diagonally against the trunk of a thick tree, slotted side-by-side to form a cohesive, slanting shelter. He covered the branches with dry grass and leaves, then gathered more grass and similar material to serve as his insulated bedding. 

“Feast your eyes, numbskulls. While you’re protected only by a thin layer of fabric, I have myself a sturdy structure to face all elemental extremes!” he declared. 

“What if the wind wants to blow sideways through those big gaps?” Jim asked.

Dwight stared at his shelter. “I’ll make some walls. I need more branches.”

Jim and Pam giggled as he walked away. 

Michael got started collecting rocks for a firepit, though they were generally far too small. Toby didn’t say anything about their size, knowing this would upset Michael, but he did help by bringing along larger, much more acceptably sized stones and dumping them in the circle. However, Michael’s superior intellect quickly caught up to this silent defiance, and he made short work of hauling all of Toby’s stones back into the woods. He also dismantled Toby’s tent while he was at it. 

By the afternoon they had the firepit stacked with wood, ready to be lit later that night. Everybody’s belongings were in their shelters, their sleeping bags prepared (or, in Dwight’s case, his mud and leaves were prepared), and they now sat in smaller clusters having their second meal of the day. Michael repeatedly needed Dwight’s help to get his gas stove going, claiming that the wind kept blowing it out. Jim and Pam had climbed a small bank, which gave them a pretty good view of Scranton. 

“I don’t understand why he picked a trail so close-by,” Pam mentioned as she ate some crackers. “If the goal is to disconnect from civilization, having such an obvious view of a city kind of defeats the purpose.”

“At least it’ll be impossible to get lost,” Jim replied.

“No, he has his geiger counter, remember?” They both laughed. “We’ll always know where north is. Because there’s no other way of knowing on a sunny day.”

“Do you think I should stage a bear attack?” Jim asked out of nowhere. 

“Mm, with Dwight? Definitely.” 

“You do know he will go into crisis mode and ruin the relaxing nature of the trip, right?” 

“I was counting on it,” replied Pam. “Will you do it tonight or tomorrow?”

“I was thinking something gradual. I can’t give it all away yet.”

“Cause you still have no idea what you’re gonna do, huh Halpert?”

“I wouldn’t get cocky if I were you. By Monday morning you will see Dwight like you’ve never seen him before. Best case scenario, that involves a loincloth.” Jim stood as Pam laughed and made his way down the bank. 

“No, Michael, you’re not supposed to drop a match on it! There’s a knob that lights—”

“Hey Dwight, I’ve been meaning to ask you what sort of modern comforts I should be avoiding on this trip.” 

Dwight stood up straight, turned to Jim. “Your tent, for one.”

“Can I sleep in your shelter with you, then?”

“Not in a million, billion years. If our primitive ancestors wanted something someone else had, they didn’t share. They ripped out each other's jugulars with their teeth!”

“Too bad I grind my teeth at night. All flat.”

“Too bad indeed,” Dwight snorted. “Other modern comforts include sleeping bags, digital technology—”

“Water bottles?”

Dwight paused to think about this. “I suppose that would count. Our ancestors would drink from rivers with their hands.”

“So, if you were truly going to be immersed in the environment, you’d throw out your water bottle, right?” 

Dwight’s eyes darted back and forth. “...Yes.”

“How about those anti-bear sacks? Our ancestors would have had to deal with bears without any sort of technology.” 

“Well…”

“Though I suppose, as hunter-gatherers, we wouldn’t be carrying packaged food around with us at all. We’d take what we needed from the environment…”

“This is true.” Dwight stared at the ground, hands on his hips. “You know what, Jim, I’m putting you lower on the most-likely-to-die list. You’re now right above Pam, so you two can be together.”

“Thank you,” Jim smiled.

“You have raised some good points. If you would like to build a shelter on the opposite side of my tree, I won’t object.”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Offer rescinded, then,” Dwight spat. “Here’s a tip, Jim: when a man is generous to you, don’t turn him down. It might cost you your life.” 

“Got it. So, you will give your food and water bottle to me, then?”

“I never said—”

“How else am I supposed to trust that you’re living without modern comforts? You’ll lose all credibility if you don’t get rid of them, Dwight.”

“...Okay, fine,” Dwight replied. He went to his shelter, retrieved his bag, and handed the entire thing to Jim. “I don’t need any of this at all, in fact. I’m going to thrive on foraged vegetables and game, just you see.”

“I can’t wait,” Jim said as he walked off with Dwight’s bag. He placed it in his tent as Dwight watched. When he turned back around, Dwight quickly looked away. Pam gave Jim a thumbs up as he approached her. 

“Food and water, check, with a bonus of all his belongings,” he said as he returned to her side. “Tomorrow’s project will be his clothing.”

“Oh my god,” she said with a wide grin. “He’s going to have to make his own clothes.”

“Maybe he’ll make his own weapons, too.”

“Isn’t that what he’s doing right now?” Jim followed Pam’s finger to see Dwight attempting to carve the end of a branch with a rock. 

“Amazing,” Jim responded. 

As the sky transformed into a red sunset, Dwight helped Michael light the campfire. Michaell had priorly poured on a healthy amount of propane, which Dwight had not noticed him doing. When Dwight dropped a lit match into the pit, the entire stack of branches burst into flames. He staggered backwards with a shriek, would’ve fallen over had he not crashed into Jim’s chest. Jim caught Dwight under the arms. Dwight wriggled as Jim helped him stand upright. 

“Thank you,” Dwight said with a begrudging nod. 

Jim went to wipe Dwight’s nose. “You have a little soot—” 

Dwight slapped his hands away, stalked to the other side of the campfire.

Everyone took a seat around the flame, holding out marshmallows, pots containing corn kernels, and other sorts of foods they wanted heated. Dwight had heavily advised them against cooking past five pm, as bears became more active after that time, but the group had drowned him out. 

Dwight eventually left the campfire to poke around in the woods. It had not grown dark enough for him to have difficulty seeing, but whenever he found a berry he would carry it back toward the light of the fire in order to inspect it. 

“Is that all you’re eating?” Jim asked him on his third trip back to the fire. “Berries?”

“Not when I find some mushrooms and persimmons,” Dwight replied. “The wilderness is ripe for the picking if you actually know how to forage. God, were you even paying attention during my demonstration?”

“I was not. I was so distracted by the rocks,” Jim replied.

“Again with the rocks? Damn it, Jim. Come over here.” Dwight beckoned Jim to the treeline. Jim, with nothing better to do, followed Dwight. He watched the other man squat down over a clump of foliage. “Have you ever seen a Staghorn Sumac?”

“They’re poisonous, aren’t they?”

“Oh, Jim,” Dwight said. “Only if you’re an idiot. Edible sumac looks vastly different from poisonous sumac… see these red, upright clusters of berries? These are what you want. Poisonous sumac berries are loose and they dangle down from the branch. They are not remotely red.” 

“I see,” Jim replied. 

“There are also lots of edible greens… if… you know where to look…” Dwight said as he surveyed the forest floor. He locked onto a cluster of weeds. “This, here, is purslane. Plenty of people mindlessly discard it from their gardens without realising it’s an incredible source of omega-3 fats.”

“How could they,” Jim commented. Dwight inspected the purslane weed. 

“You have to be cautious, however,” he continued. “See that growing nearby? That’s spurge, and it’s poisonous. Spurge often grows near purslane. At first glance it can be hard to tell them apart… but purslane is a succulent, whereas spurge is not.” Dwight picked a piece of spurge and squeezed the stem. “Notice the white fluid. That’s one way to tell spurge apart from purslane, which has a clear fluid inside because succulents store water in their structures.”

“Can you show me the water in the purslane?”

“It’s more of a sap than water,” Dwight replied as he picked a piece of purslane and squeezed the fluid from the stem. “That’s where the etymology for ‘succulent’ can be sourced, succus being the Latin word for ‘sap’ or ‘juice.’ Here, try a piece.” Dwight handed Jim the purslane sprout. Jim took it in his hand, stared at it for a second. Dwight had just outlined that there was a similar plant, spurge, which looked almost identical to purslane. He could be trying to poison him, right? It wasn’t that much of a paranoid thought. This was Dwight, after all. 

“What’s it taste like?” Jim asked. 

“Just try it,” Dwight said. His eyes were earnest, like he was really trying to teach Jim something. If Jim knew anything about Dwight, it was that he couldn’t act to save his life. Jim put the plant in his mouth and chewed it. 

“Huh, it’s salty,” said Jim. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Thought it would be bitter, right?” Dwight asked, his tone lighthearted. He picked a few leaves and ate them himself.  Jim, all of a sudden, felt the urge to call off his prank.

“Hey, man, that thing about not using modern comforts… don’t worry about it. This proves how resourceful you are, I don’t think anyone’s doubting that. Your shelter is already impressive enough.”

“You pointed out a flaw in my methods, Jim, and I intend to honour it,” replied Dwight. “Though you did miss out on something crucial… my clothing is also a modern comfort. I hope you do not think less of my survival skills that I haven’t stripped myself naked yet.”

Jim bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “I don’t expect you to go that far.”

“Oh, I will go that far, Jim. I just need to ensure I can do so without damaging my body. Though a good survivalist wants to do things the natural way, a great survivalist does not make decisions at the expense of his long-term health.” 

“That’s… a very responsible way of looking at it.” 

“I need to find an animal with a usable pelt, so if you happen to spot any deer or coyotes… In fact, how about tomorrow, I teach you how to track an animal?”

“I would love that,” said Jim. Dwight smiled briefly, wide and authentic. 

That night, Jim entered his tent and slotted himself beneath the blanket, where Pam sat propped up beside him, reading a book with an attachable book light. 

“What are you reading?” he asked. 

“Under the Dome.”

“Any good?”

“I just started it. But it’s Stephen King, so I doubt it’s winning a Pulitzer.” 

“Hey, so, me and Dwight… kind of… had a moment, I think, maybe?”

“A moment?” She put down her book.

“He was showing me how to forage, and just talking me through these different plants, and I kind of got lost in his voice, it was weird. I didn’t feel like pranking him anymore. But as it turns out, he had the idea about clothing before I had a chance to even suggest it, and he wants to take me hunting tomorrow so he can find an animal to skin.”

“Yikes.” Pam said. She cocked her head in thought. “I’m pretty sure skinning an animal is Dwight’s love language.”

“He does seem like an Acts of Service guy.”

As they settled into bed, there was a gentle scratching on the door to their tent. 

“Jim, Pam,” a voice whispered. Jim shuffled toward the door, unzipped it to come face-to-face with Michael.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked. 

“I’m too scared to sleep alone,” Michael said, on the verge of tears. 

“Oh… oh, Michael, um…” Jim glanced at Pam over his shoulder, though couldn’t make out her expression in the dark. 

“What if there’s a bear?” Michael continued. “I can’t make myself look big, Jim, and I’ll definitely run away instead of backing away slowly… Or, what if there’s a skinwalker?”

“I don’t think those are real.”

“They’re plenty real, I saw a documentary about them on TV, they don’t make documentaries about things that aren’t real… look, can you just, scooch aside, so I can…”

“Michael, why don’t you go in the big tent? It has separate rooms, I’m sure you can find a place in there.”

“Because Toby’s in there, and also, that’s the loser tent,” Michael grumbled. Pam shuffled out of bed, joined Jim at the entrance. “Pam, you’ll let me in, right?”

“Michael…”

“Please, Pam, just for tonight? If you guys want to have sex, that’s cool, I’ll probably be asleep, and if I’m not I’ll just pretend to be asleep, you won’t know the difference.”

“Michael,” Pam said again. “Maybe you could go check on Dwight and see if he’s too cold in his shelter. He might agree to come stay in your tent with you.”

“I know I’d feel safe with Dwight in my tent,” Jim added.

“God…” Michael grumbled. “I’ll just go back to my tent. If you find two dismembered legs and a blood trail tomorrow morning, you’ll know what happened to me. Jerks.”

“Michael, wait,” Pam said. She picked up her book light, handed it to him. “This only puts out a very soft light, just enough to read a book, it won’t light up your tent from the outside or anything. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.”

Michael took the light with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess it’ll help. Thanks.” 

“Sleep well,” Jim said. 

Michael made to move away, then stopped himself. “Hey, was that you guys moaning before or was it Ryan and Kelly?”

“Definitely Ryan and Kelly,” Pam said. 

“I don’t know, I never imagined Ryan as a vocal type,” Michael said with a squint. 

“You’ve imagined him…” Jim trailed off. 

“He was just being very loud, Jim, and I thought maybe it was you, okay? Is that so weird?”

“A little.”

“We want to go back to bed, Michael,” Pam said.

“Oh, I’m sure you do, to have your… weird … silent sex,” Michael retorted. “At least I know I was listening to Ryan. It would’ve been way worse if it was you. Anyway, goodnight.” 

Michael left. Pam zipped the tent back up as she and Jim worked to stifle their laughter. 

“He never imagined Ryan as a vocal type?” Jim whispered. Pam giggled into her sleeve. “So he’s just openly admitting to having fantasies now, cool. I’m glad he’s accepting himself.”

“Hey… that thing about Dwight… maybe one of us should run out and see if he’s okay,” Pam said. “You know what, I’ll go. Don’t want him to get the idea you don’t think he’s capable.” 

“Alright,” said Jim. Pam grabbed a flashlight, pointed it down as she turned it on and set it to the dimmest setting. She unzipped the tent and walked on cold grass to Dwight’s shelter. She squatted by his side, careful not to shine the flashlight near his face. “Dwight?” she whispered. Dwight, covered in grass and leaves, peered over his shoulder at Pam with slit-like eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” replied Dwight. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just making sure everyone’s okay.”

“You haven’t checked on anyone else.”

“You’re the first.”

“I don’t believe you,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. 

“I was worried you were too cold out here,” she said.

“Please,” he scoffed. “It’s the height of summer. Want to know what a real cold person looks like? They’ll be lying inside a hollowed out mammal carcass, Pam. Hard to miss.”

“Well, okay, but if you do get too cold…” 

“What?” Dwight asked after Pam trailed off. 

“You’re welcome in our tent,” she said quietly. Dwight didn’t respond for several seconds. 

“Has Jim agreed to this?” His voice wavered.

“No,” Pam said. “But he hasn’t disagreed, either. I haven’t asked him.”

“Well,” Dwight managed. “You can keep your offer. I’m not going to freeze anytime soon.” 

“Okay. I hope you can get to sleep.” Pam had suddenly remembered the time her and Jim had stayed at his bed and breakfast, where they were made aware of Dwight’s inclination towards insomnia.

“Goodnight, Pam.”

“Goodnight, Dwight.” She stood and made her way back to the tent. 

In the morning, Group Two and Group Leftovers departed the campsite together to go on a short hike further up the trail. Group Awesome and Group Purple stayed behind to play games. Pam also stayed at the campsite while Dwight prepared to take Jim on a hunting mission. 

“This here is your spear,” Dwight handed Jim a sharpened branch as they stood beside his shelter. “I made it before daybreak.” 

“Thanks,” Jim said. 

“Tracking animals is as easy as splitting it into two parts: signs and tracks. Signs are anything that indicates an animal’s presence which aren’t actual track marks, such as stool, rubs, broken or eaten foliage, hair and feathers, gnaws and chews… I’ll describe these in more detail as we come across them. The other part speaks for itself, it means studying the actual footprints of an animal.

We are currently in what is known as a transition area, which is the perfect habitat for finding animals. We have a field, a forest, a trail, and a stream all in close proximity. Certain animals will frequently take the path of least resistance, which is why they end up on hiking trails so often. In fact, I can already see several signs of animals right now.”

“Really?” Jim asked.

Dwight pointed his spear at some grass nearby. “Notice the 45 degree angle that those blades of grass have been cut on. Only a rodent leaves grass looking that way due to their prominent incisors. Right over here is a pile of stool, likely belonging to the same animal. We can tell it is rodent stool because of it is made up of small, cylindrical shapes. It also isn’t dry and crumbly, but instead moist and plump, meaning it is fresh.”

Jim wrinkled his nose at this description. “Can you work out which rodent it belongs to?”

“Yes I can, Jim. This is the work of a squirrel. Note the reddish colour of the stool, as well as the overall size. Though it is similar to rat feces, these droppings are slightly larger. Anyway, we aren’t interested in squirrels, today. Come with me, and we’ll look for signs of deer, elk, and even bears.” 

Jim followed Dwight into the woods. They walked side by side along a stream. 

“A rub is one of the best ways of identifying large animals in the area. Many animals, intentionally or unintentionally, rub up against trees and foliage, leaving a distinct mark on the vegetation. Deers will rub their antlers against trees to rid themselves of itchy velvet, which is bright red and thus hard to miss. Bears also rub themselves on trees to mark their scents.”

“I had no idea there were so many signs you could look for,” Jim commented.

“The wild is a canvas, Jim,” Dwight said as twigs snapped underfoot. “Everything means something. Everything impacts everything else. The world is not an unintelligent place, but it does take intelligence to decipher it. See that stone, dislodged from its pocket in the earth? We can take that as a sign an animal upturned it, either to search for insects or because they knocked it while moving. See that depression in the vegetation? I’d be confident saying that was a lay for an animal no more than a few days ago, probably for a napping fox, judging by the size. If we were in a grassier area, I could demonstrate what is known as ‘sideheading,’ where you get low to the ground and observe whether there are lines in the grass that are duller or shinier than the surrounding field, which would imply an animal had walked through. Now, I have noticed something, and I’d like you to point it out to me. Something I haven’t mentioned.” Jim glanced around with uncertainty. “Here’s a tip: always keep your eyes on the ground.”

Jim dropped his gaze, after a few seconds his eyes fell upon an interesting shape in the dirt. “Is that it?”

Dwight smiled silently for a moment, then clapped Jim on the shoulder. “Congratulations on identifying your first animal track, Jim. Let’s take a closer look.” They squatted down beside it. “What animal do you think this belongs to, and what direction would you say it was heading in?”

“It’s a deer, and it’s going that way,” Jim pointed. He felt a growing sense of uneasiness: call him dense, but he had not realised quite how skilled Dwight was in this arena. The possibility that they would come across a real animal grew higher by the moment, and Jim knew that Dwight thoroughly intended on killing it. Jim wasn’t a vegan or anything, but he definitely didn’t want to be involved in unnecessarily killing a wild animal. 

“Good job,” Dwight said, and seemed to really mean it. “Now, what is the sex of the deer?”

“I don’t…”

“Kidding! That’s advanced stuff. Telling a deer’s sex isn’t about the size of the hoof like you may think. An experienced tracker will instead look to see which girdle the deer favours while walking, as male and female deer have different bone structures. You need to find the track from its front hoof, then compare it to its rear hoof on the same side of its body. If the track of the rear hoof falls to the exterior side of the front hoof, the deer is female, because she is favouring her pelvic girdle for birthing. If the track of the rear hoof falls on the inner side of the front hoof, it’s a male deer favouring his shoulder girdle, because his shoulders need to be broad to support his antlers. This deer is… a male,” Dwight concluded. “So we’re tracking a buck.” 

“Dwight, are you actually going to kill it?”

“We are going to kill it, Jim. That’s the whole point of this exercise,” Dwight returned. 

“To be honest, I really don’t feel comfortable killing a deer.”

“If you do not help me take it down, you will get none of the meat and fur.”

“I accept those consequences.” 

They continued on their way for a little while. All of a sudden, Dwight silenced Jim, then dragged him behind a boulder. Jim went to say something, Dwight pressed a hand to his mouth, shook his head quickly. 

“Something’s out there,” he mouthed. 

“Deer?” Jim mouthed back.

Dwight shook his head again. “Person.” 

Jim’s heart skipped a beat. They heard rustling in the distance. As Jim slowly lifted himself to peer over the boulder, Dwight tugged him back down by the front of his shirt. Their faces were an inch apart. Dwight’s typically intense, ferocious eyes burned with a frightened concern Jim had rarely seen within them. He had certainly never seen them so close-up.

“Don’t move,” Dwight whispered, the words warm against Jim’s mouth. Jim repressed a shudder. The person rustled closer, came within several meters of them, then kept going. They got a look at the back of them, but whoever they were, they had the hood of their rain jacket up. 

“We need to alert everyone,” Jim whispered. “Just in case.”

“We’d have to go back to do that, Jim,” Dwight replied. “He wasn’t heading toward camp, anyway, and he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Come on, we’re so close to the buck.”

Jim sighed. “Alright. We should’ve checked if he was lost, you didn’t need to drag me into hiding…” 

“I did that in case he was a hunter who thought you were game,” Dwight replied. Jim blinked. “He could’ve taken a shot at us.”

“Oh,” said Jim. “Wow, uh, thank you.”

“Try to use your brain for once,” he said, though it lacked any malice. It had an almost affectionate quality. “Or it’ll get blown out the back of your skull.” 

They continued to track the animal, and soon enough, Dwight had ushered Jim behind some thick foliage, communicating only through hand gestures. He pointed to a clearing, and there, standing in the light, was a sturdy buck. To Jim, it felt like a fairytale, until he realised they intended to kill it. Dwight gestured to Jim in a way that communicated an intention to circle around the buck in order to flank it. Jim had no idea how the logistics would work, considering the both of them were using sharpened sticks to face off with a relatively large, potentially dangerous animal. Dwight seemed sure of himself, however, and departed Jim to silently make his way around to the opposite side. 

Once in position, Jim caught Dwight’s eye from across the gap. Dwight crept closer, closer, closer, his focus laser-like. He gave Jim the signal, then a moment later lept into action, rushing the stag from the side. Jim watched, frozen, as Dwight plunged his spear into the animal’s throat. Blood sprayed all down his front as the deer cried out. Its legs buckled in terror as it scrabbled to get away. Jim emerged from the bushes, stared at the scene before him.

“Now, Jim! Now!” Dwight cried, his arms wrapped around the deer’s neck. Jim raised his spear and stabbed it through the deer’s throat, the opposite side to Dwight’s wound. The deer struggled far less, slowly sunk lower and lower to the ground. 

“There, easy, easy, there’s a good boy,” Dwight murmured in a soothing tone as he stroked along the deer’s back with one hand and scratched its cheek with the other. Blood flecked his glasses. His face, neck, and shirt were doused and sticky with it. “There, just rest now, it’s okay. That’s a good deer, there’s a sweetheart. Just go to sleep…” 

Jim sunk to his knees, his mouth parted. He reached toward the deer and rubbed its nose as it heaved out a final breath. He met Dwight’s eyes, was shocked to note that they were glistening, brimming with tears which threatened to spill over. 

“It’s never easy,” Dwight stated. He removed his glasses, cleaned the lenses with his shirt, wiped his eyes with the back of one hand. He cleared his throat as he put his glasses back on. 

“I don’t feel… good about this, Dwight,” Jim said hoarsely. 

“I’m proud of you,” Dwight replied. Jim swallowed as they gazed at one another. Dwight’s eyes dropped to the blood spattered down Jim’s front, his mouth twitched upward. “You’ve made quite a mess of yourself.” 

“You should look in a mirror.”

Dwight laughed quietly. “You look good with a bit of blood on you. Strong, respectable. Don’t be surprised if Pam wants to—”

The buck jerked to life. Dwight screamed and tumbled backwards as it stood up and sprinted at top speed away from them.

“Shit!” Dwight exclaimed as he staggered to his feet. “He was faking being dead, it’s a defense mechanism when they’re in shock. He won’t be hard to track down, but judging by how fast they can move, it could take us hours to catch up!”

“Dwight, I don’t think I…” Jim trailed off. He met Dwight’s eyes with a desperate gaze. 

“Okay,” Dwight responded as he stared down at him. He offered him a hand, helped him up. “You made a great effort today. In some ways, that’s more important to me than whether we succeeded or not. In some ways. For the most part, I resent the fact that we failed.”

“Hmm,” replied Jim, his mind blank as they made their way back. Dwight couldn’t help but steal glances at him — the blood matted into his dishevelled hair, the streaks of it across his cheeks and jaw, the whole front of his shirt thoroughly soaked. You look like a viking, Dwight kept wanting to say, but he could tell that Jim, in his current mood, wouldn’t take it well. Not that he cared whether he did. Dwight had not remotely expected Jim to go through with attacking the deer. In fact, he had initially orchestrated the whole hunting trip as an excuse to mock Jim for his shrivelled masculinity. That intention was long lost, now, as he watched Jim cross a stream and wondered how different he’d look if he fell in. 

When they appeared at the campsite, it was clear something was wrong, mainly because everyone was too busy yelling at Michael about something to even comment on the two bloodsoaked men. 

“You cannot be serious! You cannot be fucking serious!” Oscar yelled as Michael shrivelled further and further away from the group. 

“What’s going on?” Dwight asked. 

“Michael threw our bag of phones into a stream somewhere along the hike!” Phyllis informed, not turning to look at them.

“What?” Jim yelled. 

“He went back to find them and they weren’t there,” Toby added, then glanced at Jim and Dwight. “Oh… what did you…”

“Killed a deer,” Dwight informed, before he pushed through the crowd and came to Michael’s side. “Everybody, remain calm. This is exactly what I have wanted to talk to you all about—”

“Jesus Christ, why are you two covered in blood?” Michael asked. 

“Jim and I killed a deer. Anyway, listen to me closely, everyone.”

“Jim? You killed a deer?” Michael turned to Jim with a wounded gaze. Jim opened and closed his mouth, said nothing. He glanced around for Pam, though couldn’t see her anywhere. 

“Cellphones are a modern convenience of the past several decades. Unless I’m mistaken, we did not come into existence within the last few decades. We have lived without digital technology for millions of years! Use this to springboard yourself into a heightened level of your primitive instincts! Cellphones have changed the wiring of our brains, but we can change it back. We can conquer our own soft-minded desires for luxury!” 

“What if we get lost, Dwight, or someone gets hurt? That’s what we’re concerned about!” Andy exclaimed. 

“Perfect opportunities to develop our orienteering and first aid skills!”

“What if, say, I’m just thinking off the top of my head, here… I fell fifty feet down a gorge, shattered both my ankles, and wouldn’t make it unless I was airlifted away in a rescue helicopter, Dwight?” Jim asked. 

Dwight threw his arm up, pointed at Jim, opened his mouth to say something. He hesitated, unsure of how to counter it. “I suppose we would have to construct splints.”

“What about the pain?”

“Pain exists as an important survival mechanism. Have you ever heard of people with a condition where they don’t experience pain? They often die in childhood because they have no idea they’ve been mortally injured. You’ll just have to deal with how much it hurts. They didn’t have painkillers in the prehistoric era.”

“So I have to suffer because my ancestors suffered?”

“All of life is about suffering,” Dwight responded. “I make it a point to make myself as physically uncomfortable as possible every single day. Keeps my personality from deteriorating.” 

“I had no idea it worked that way.”

“Everyone, forget about your cellphones! You did just fine without them, and will continue to do just fine, so long as you believe in your own resilience!”

“The point is that Michael threw away our property!” said Meredith. “Not everything is about your ideologies all the time.”

“Oh, yeah, call your own DNA an ideology,” Dwight mocked.

“Dwight, come on, you’re freaking people out. Go wash yourself in the river,” Michael said.

“I’m trying to help you, Michael.”

“Yeah, well, you look like an axe-murderer and Jim looks like your victim.”

“Fine. Come on, Jim. Get your spare clothes.” Jim retrieved his clothes from his tent, then Dwight grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him back into the woods. They walked along the stream again until they found a wider, deeper part. Dwight began to strip down.

“Um, maybe we should split up to do this—”

“Don’t be so embarrassed. The primitives ran around without clothes all the time, prudishness is a result of our unnecessary social rules. There’s nothing wrong with the human body. Besides, we’re both men.”

“Well…” Jim trailed off as Dwight threw his shirt to the ground, then worked to unbuckle his pants. “Keep your underwear on, at least.”

Dwight whipped his head to face Jim. “Of course I’m keeping my underwear on, freak. God, what did you think was about to happen? Dream, much?”

“I just told you to keep them on,” Jim replied as he pulled off his shirt. Dwight swallowed, looked away, then removed the rest of his clothing and cannonballed into the river. He surfaced a moment later.

“Cold! Cold!” he exclaimed. Jim laughed, stood in his boxers, and waded more gradually into the water. He began to work the water through his hair, slicking it back as reddened drops landed in the river and were carried downstream. “Quit splashing me, idiot!”

“Sorry, wasn’t trying to,” Jim replied as he flicked his hair out of his eyes. He then grinned at Dwight and scooped a line of water in his direction. Dwight shrieked and tried to dodge it. Enraged, he slammed his hands down on the surface and showered Jim with a freezing splash. Jim giggled as he retaliated. 

“Stop it!” Dwight exclaimed. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Jim replied and splashed him again.

“Yes you are!” Dwight splashed him back. 

“I’m just washing the blood off, Dwight. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“God, you’re such a moron. I’m going to this side of the river, that side can be yours. Don’t cross onto my side!”

Jim smiled and finished cleaning himself.

“So, what will you make your clothes out of?” he asked as they dried off. 

“I intend to weave grasses. I have weaved many baskets over my lifetime so I have the skillset for this.” 

“Will you start with your underwear?”

“Of course,” Dwight replied. “I will weave myself a loincloth. At least then I can discard my modern clothing altogether.” 

“Naturally,” Jim grinned. They got dressed and started to walk back. “Dwight, I didn’t know killing animals upset you.”

Dwight didn’t reply for a long time. He seemed embarrassed. “It rarely upsets me, but some animals possess degrees of intelligence we don’t understand. You realise that I considered killing that deer to be necessary, don’t you? It’s part of true immersion. I can imagine it didn’t suffer much longer after it left. Chances are a bear ate it. It’s a good thing it ran off, in hindsight. I was so caught up in my need for clothes that I had a lapse in judgement.”

“Oh yeah?”

“If we had brought a bleeding deer from the woods all the way back to the campsite, it would’ve attracted every bear within a close range. We’re lucky we didn’t run into one at all this morning.”

“Right,” Jim replied, a little shaken. 

“I’m glad you got to watch me attack it,” Dwight said after another pause. “So you know it isn’t all fun and games for me. I don’t look down on your reluctance to hunt as much as it may seem.”

“Really?” Jim asked, though Dwight said no more. 

That night, as Dwight worked tirelessly on his loincloth, the workers gathered around the campfire once again. Andy played the same three chords on the ukulele for twenty-five minutes until Angela confiscated it.

“You may be thinking that tomorrow morning is all about heading back, but you’d be wrong,” Michael said. “Tomorrow will involve a special scavenger hunt to make the hike back down more interesting. Your teams will be the same as your groups. So, rest up and prepare for that!”

“That sounds fun, Michael,” said Pam, whose tone was thick with skepticism. 

“Yes! It will be, Pam, thank you!”

“What could you possibly find in the woods?” asked Oscar. 

“What can’t you find in the woods? Trees, sticks, dirt, leaves—”

“Animal poop,” Dwight interjected. 

“Animal poop,” Michael added. “But also, there’s a grand prize for anyone who happens to come across a plastic bag filled with cellphones. How did the cellphones get there? How do I know this object exists? Maybe it doesn’t exist, right? WOoOoh!”

“Michael—”

“I want you to all get excited about finding that bag, okay? And the other stuff on the list, of course.”

“What’s the prize?” Kelly asked.

“We don’t all get lost and die up here,” Ryan answered.

“The prize… is… braaa—”

“Don’t say bragging rights!” 

“Shhhh— okay, the prize is TBA. But it’ll be good, I promise,” said Michael. 

“How’s the loincloth going?” Jim asked after he’d broken away from the group to approach Dwight, who was hunched over his project, meticulously weaving grass back and forth. 

“It’s going well. I’m near completion. I will certainly be able to sleep in it, meaning I will have spent one official night without any of the modern comforts of society.”

“Well, almost,” Jim said.

“What do you mean?” Dwight’s head shot up. 

“Your glasses. Those are a product of society, aren’t they?”

“My god…” Dwight removed his glasses, stared at them. “They’re on your face so much you forget they’re there. I’m changing your rank on the most-likely-to-die list again, Jim. You’ve so far impressed me with your critical thinking, your willingness to learn, and your bravery. You are now just above Meredith.”

“That is an honour, Dwight. Thank you,” said Jim. Dwight handed Jim his glasses with a smile, then returned to his weaving, hunched even lower so he could see what he was doing. Jim made to leave, then frowned as he noticed Dwight’s complexion.

“Hey, are you feeling alright?”

“Better than alright.”

“You look pale. What have you eaten today?”

“If I wanted someone to mother me I’d go find the bag of cellphones and ring my childhood babysitter,” he sneered.

“Is that the one we had dinner with? How is she?”

“Melvina is well. I’ll let her know you asked after her.”

Once everyone had retired to their tents, Dwight extinguished the campfire and stripped himself naked. He pulled the loincloth up around his waist, uncomfortable at how itchy it was, then crawled into his shelter. He noticed straight away that he was much colder than last night, but knew that so long as he had insulation between his body and the dirt floor, he wouldn’t freeze to death. He lay there, shuddering, for three quarters of an hour, before he heard a stick snap nearby. Dwight stilled, listening. Another few sticks snapped as something rustled closer. He tried as hard as he could to keep his breathing even despite the thumping in his chest. 

The creature emerged into the campsite. Dwight realised it was a person, the same person he and Jim had seen that morning. He watched as the person wandered over to the firepit, picked up what looked like a few discarded pots and pans, then disappeared into the woods on the opposite side. Dwight had no idea what to do about the theft he had just witnessed. He was much too cold and frightened to think coherently. Instead, he lay there, attempting to wrap his mind around the situation. He realised he had to warn somebody about the threat, but he wasn’t sure who would be the best person to tell. Though Michael was the leader, he would also cause a panic, which wasn’t a good thing to happen in pitch darkness. Toby was usually supposed to deal with disturbances to the peace, but he was also a major wimp. Dwight then thought of Jim, who was steadily becoming a skilled survivalist. He didn’t want to disturb Jim and Pam, but then he remembered what she’d said to him… 

Dwight tortured himself over whether to go to their tent for the next five minutes, before he eventually decided that if the man came back and hurt somebody it would be entirely his fault for not alerting the others. He crawled from his shelter and, struggling to see in the dark without his glasses, used his orienteering skills to locate Jim and Pam’s tent. 

“Jim?” Dwight whispered as he tapped on the door. He heard shuffling inside, low murmuring. The door slowly unzipped. 

“You okay, man?” Jim asked with a light frown. Dwight was shivering violently. 

“I saw a man, Jim,” Dwight managed. “The same one we saw this morning. He came through and… stole some pots, I think…”

“Hey, Dwight, come in here,” Jim said. Dwight nodded and crawled inside the tent, which was much warmer than his shelter. “Here’s your clothes—”

“No, Jim, I’m not—”

“Oh my god, his fingers are turning blue,” Pam exclaimed. “Dwight, sit down. This has gone too far.”

“Pam, I’m fine, we need to do something about the man!”

“Dwight, didn’t you tell me that a great survivalist doesn’t put his long-term health in jeopardy? You could have frostbite,” Jim said. Dwight stared at him helplessly, then lowered his gaze. Jim helped him into a shirt and jacket. “Put some pants on.” 

Dwight put on his underwear and pants outside, then discarded his loincloth into the bushes. He crawled back into the tent, still disorientated.

“Are you hungry?” Pam asked him. 

Dwight shuddered in response. It was all hitting him very hard, all of a sudden. He hadn’t had anything to drink all day yesterday, and very little to eat aside from berries and weeds. Jim took a granola bar from his anti-bear sack and gave it to him. Dwight devoured it, then drank half of the contents of his water bottle. Jim and Pam exchanged a remorseful, upset glance. They hated seeing Dwight like this. Jim hadn’t expected him to get in such a bad way so quickly. Clearly, despite his onslaught of knowledge, Dwight hadn’t been properly taking care of himself in practice. 

“Here, get under the blanket,” Jim said.

“No, I’ll go back—” Dwight tried as he grabbed for the door. Pam tugged him back by the shirt, he relented with little protest. He curled up under the blanket, Jim and Pam surrounded him on opposite sides to try and warm him up. His skin was ice-cold, which frightened them both terribly. He could barely speak. Jim wrapped his arms around Dwight’s waist and pressed the length of his torso against Dwight’s back. Dwight grunted as though to protest, but instead slipped his eyes closed and focused on the warmth. Pam took one of Dwight’s arms and wrapped it around her body, her back pressed to his chest. She held his icy hands between hers, rubbed them gently to bring back some warmth without shocking his system. Dwight began to snore quietly. 

“I feel terrible,” Jim said. 

“I know, me too,” she replied. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

“It was only one day, I’m sure he’ll bounce back,” Jim replied, though he wrapped himself a little tighter around Dwight, just to be safe. 

Pam woke up in the morning first, and noted immediately that she’d ended up all the way across the tent. She turned to see that Dwight had rolled in his sleep to face Jim and they were now cradling each other. After noticing that Dwight had much more colour in his face, she allowed herself to find this deeply amusing. She left them like that as she went outside to make breakfast. It was still dark out, and she was the first person awake.

Dwight woke up to Jim softly exhaling on his forehead. He stiffened at their proximity, Jim’s arms around his waist, one of Dwight’s arms slung over Jim’s side. In his sleep, Dwight had wrapped one of his legs over Jim’s. He flushed beet-red and tried to pull away. Jim, still asleep, held him tighter. 

“Jim,” Dwight tried through gritted teeth. Jim said something in his sleep, then buried his face in Dwight’s neck. Dwight wriggled as the other man mumbled against his skin. “Jim, wake up, or I will have no choice but to karate-chop you.”

“Mmmm,” Jim sighed with a comfortable smile. His hair was soft against Dwight’s cheek, his hands were loosely entangled in the fabric of his shirt, and his body was solid and strong. Some deep, repressed part of Dwight told him to let it go on a little longer. 

So Dwight did, just to see what would happen. A minute later, Jim began to stir. His eyelids fluttered though remained closed, he smiled wider.

“Morning, Pam,” he rumbled.

“I’m not Pam,” Dwight managed. Jim’s eyes opened. They stared at each-other. 

“Where is she?” Jim asked.

“I think she left.”

“Hey, Dwight… You look much healthier today. You really freaked us out last night.”

“Yeah. Thank you for… this,” Dwight murmured. Jim smiled and gently disentangled himself from Dwight, who blinked a few times in quick succession and cleared his throat awkwardly. 

When they emerged from the tent together, only Pam and Michael were at the campfire, which was small and low. 

“Whooo,” Michael grinned. “The three of you, sharing a tent? Threesome, much? Ew, god, hell of a mental image, okay. Wait…” he frowned, looked at Pam. “Why did he get to stay in your tent but not me?”

“He nearly had frostbite, Michael,” Pam said quickly. “It was an emergency.”

“And me being scared wasn’t?”

“Not… really.”

“Would you have let me in if I had frostbite?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Because that would be an emergency.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Dwight stood at his shelter, staring down at it dejectedly. Jim approached him. “Hey, you okay?”

“I failed,” Dwight replied. “I failed to kill a deer, and I failed in my goal of living like a primitive. It’s pathetic.”

“Hey, no, come on, you kidding me? You’ve done so much more than any of us would even dare to do… you worked so hard, that doesn’t make you a failure.”

“Yes it does,” Dwight argued. “Objectively, I failed in my intentions, which makes me a failure.” 

“You’re never a failure in my eyes.”

“Like your opinion means anything to me,” Dwight sneered, though Jim knew it was all for appearances.

By midday, the tents had been packed up and everybody was prepared to begin the descent. Michael listed the scavenger hunt items, including ‘raspberry,’ ‘smooth rock,’ ‘pointy rock,’ ‘animal bones/dead animal,’ ‘pointy stick,’ ‘garbage,’ and, of course, ‘plastic bag full of cellphones.’ After a headcount, they all departed, clustered into their groups. Group Alpha stood near the back, followed only by Purple Group, while the rest of the workers walked ahead of them. 

“Did you sleep well, Dwight?” Pam asked him. Dwight glanced down at her.

“Very well, thank you.”

“If you’re hungry, we still have plenty of snacks left.”

“Maybe later.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why did you let your husband spoon me instead of waking us up?”

“I got up pretty early,” Pam replied. “He was spooning you? I didn’t notice.”

“Actually, Dwight was facing me, so it was more like cuddling,” Jim replied.

“We didn’t cuddle,” Dwight said, and walked faster so he wouldn’t have to keep talking to them.

Some of the groups began to split off from the trail in order to search for their cellphones in the woods. Purple Group disappeared from behind them, and Group Two and Group Leftovers also vanished. 

“We should start looking, I guess,” said Jim. 

“I’m going to stay on the trail,” Pam replied. “We need at least one person who won’t get lost in case there’s trouble.”

“You sure? Alright, I guess I’ll go with Dwight. Again.”

“If you don’t see me when you come back, just keep going down.”

Jim caught up with Dwight, they disappeared into the woods. Pam continued to walk, she caught up with Group Awesome.

“You guys aren’t looking?” she asked, in an attempt to be conversational. 

“Nuh-uh. We’re hoping nobody finds it. We’re gonna complain to the company when we get back and all get a phone upgrade,” Stanley said.

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“It was Bob’s,” Phyllis smiled as she leaned into Bob Vance’s arm. 

“Hey Pam, is this rock smooth or pointy?” Kevin asked her as he held up a pinecone.

“That’s a pinecone, Kevin.”

“So… pointy?”

Purple Group, being Michael, Ryan, and Kelly, were poking around fairly deep in the woods along the stream. So far, they hadn’t had any luck. Kelly hung back from the group, stared at something in her hands. Michael turned and noticed her doing this.

“Kelly, what’s that?” He asked.

“My phone,” she replied.

“You’ve had your phone this whole time?” 

“Yeah. I just didn’t give it to you.”

Michael and Ryan shared a rare glance of exasperation. “Could you maybe use it to call one of the phones in the bag?”

“I don’t have service. I’m playing snake.” 

“Well… could you go back on the trail and see if you can get service?” Michael asked.

“Only if Ryan comes with me.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll stay here and listen,” Michael said. Ryan and Kelly returned to the path together while Michael kept looking. 

Jim and Dwight, further down the mountain, scanned the stream meticulously as they followed it. Jim had spotted a plastic bag at one point, but upon investigation it turned out to be a piece of unrelated trash. Dwight used a branch to poke at the rocks in the stream. 

“Do any of those tracking skills transfer to a plastic bag full of cellphones?” Jim asked. 

“I suppose I could try to look for human tracks, but we’re heading parallel to the path, whereas his tracks would have been on a ninety degree angle from it.”

“If we returned to the trail we could just stare at the ground until we saw shoe prints,” Jim suggested.

“Hmm, we could, but it’s not the most obvious option. It’s easier to see a plastic bag in a stream than it is to see tracks in the dirt.”

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t think our shoes have been making tracks.”

“What?” Dwight asked. He turned to inspect the direction they’d come from. “No, no, they… is the dirt too firm? Jim, that’s how I intended to get back to the trail!”

“Ah, come on, I’m sure you have other means to find out where we are,” Jim said. 

“We can’t work out where the sun is because the canopy is so thick,” Dwight said, his voice grave. “Our best bet would be to keep heading down, following the stream. But we might end up quite far from everyone else.”

“Are you seriously saying we’re lost?”

“Well, do you know which direction we came in?”

“The… stream’s… direction,” Jim tried. 

“Look, if we find that bag of phones we’ll do just fine, so let’s focus on that.” 

As they continued to walk, Jim surveyed his surroundings, forgetting to keep an eye on the ground. The next step he took didn’t meet ground. He waved his arms wildly as he attempted to fall back from whatever drop he was hovering over, but his other foot gave way as he plummeted off a cliff. Jim yelled out, tried to grab for a sturdy system of roots which jutted from the side, but he wasn’t quick enough. 

“Jim!” Dwight shrieked as he saw Jim fall. He leaned over the cliff just in time to see Jim hit the bottom with a firm snapping noise. He had fallen about twenty feet into a rocky hollow, thankfully most of the rocks were smooth and moss-covered. Jim, flat on his back, groaned quietly. “I’m coming down, hold on!” Dwight navigated a safe path into the hollow and came to a stop beside Jim, who had been trying to sit up. “Hey, don’t move. Stay still. What did you land on? What broke?” 

“My leg, I think,” Jim said.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, I landed on one leg and fell to the side.”

“Okay,” said Dwight. His hands hovered over the affected leg. Since Jim was wearing shorts, Dwight could see the whole scope of the injury, and it wasn’t pretty. His lower leg was bent at a strange angle, with the bone sticking out through the skin. It was already beginning to swell. Blood squirted from the wound. Dwight reached into his bag, retrieved a first-aid kit, and pulled out a tourniquet. “I never leave the house without a tourniquet.” His voice was stable, but his eyes were alarmed. He placed the tourniquet around Jim’s thigh, tightened it, and twisted the windlass with trembling hands until it was adequate. He then used hand sanitizer to clean his hands, before reaching into his first-aid kit again to procure an antibiotic cream and cotton swabs. He carefully applied the cream to the broken skin.

“It hurts, Dwight,” Jim managed. Silent tears leaked from his eyes.

“I know it does. I’m sorry. If I had been navigating the terrain properly this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Don’t blame yourself—”

“Be quiet,” Dwight said, his voice now soft and afraid. He retrieved a large gauze pad and taped it as best he could over the wound, then promptly returned the kit to his bag and put it back on. “In any other circumstances I wouldn’t move you, but if we stay here, we may never be found. I’m going to have to carry you.”

“Okay,” Jim said faintly. Dwight lifted Jim into a bridal carry and cautiously navigated them out of the hollow. Jim hissed at every jostle, bit his lip until it bled to avoid crying out. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dwight said again. “Did you bring any sort of painkiller with you?”

“No,” Jim said. “Pam has the first-aid stuff, but I’m not sure if there’s anything much stronger than Ibuprofen.” 

“I’m such an idiot. I’ll never leave without painkillers again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dwight, it barely hurts now.”

“You’re in shock, which isn’t a good sign,” Dwight said as they continued down through the forest. Dwight tried to drift in the direction he was most sure the trail would be in, though never went far enough to lose sight of the stream. Dwight could feel Jim’s heart racing and knew he had to find some way to keep him calm. “I didn’t mind sharing a bed with you and Pam last night. If you hadn’t been so hospitable of me, I could’ve been in a much worse place today.”

“I’m sorry about all of that, Dwight. I was trying to prank you… Pam and I thought it would be funny if we could get you to stop wearing clothes… but you ended up doing that without me having to suggest it.”

“You pranked me by manipulating me into slowly depriving myself of basic necessities? That’s genius, Jim. That’s your best prank so far.”

“No, Dwight, that’s the whole point,” Jim said, his voice ragged. “We didn’t mean for you to get sick. We thought, since you were talking so much about hunting and foraging and general survival skills, that you would be just fine for one day without any of your supplies. You scared us to death by not taking care of yourself properly.” 

Dwight went quiet. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.” 

“You’re so smart about this stuff, Dwight, but there’s a reason our lifespans used to be so short. There was almost no food for you up there.”

“Jim,” Dwight said. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m moving you further down the most-likely-to-die list. You’re now right above me. You could’ve even ended up below me if you hadn’t broken your leg. If I had not been there to witness it, you would’ve…” Dwight trailed off. Didn’t want to suggest it.

“I’m incredibly proud to be one rank above you,” Jim replied as his eyes slipped closed. 

“Jim, I need you to try to stay awake, okay?”

Jim opened his eyes again, determined to follow Dwight’s instruction. 

“Help!” a voice cried in the distance. Dwight froze. They both listened. “Help!”

“Is that Michael?” Jim mumbled.

“Michael!” Dwight shouted. “Michael, can you hear me? Follow the stream down!”

“Dwight!” Michael called from afar. Not long after, they caught a glimpse of him coming down the hill towards them. 

“Michael, watch your step! There’s a dangerous cliff nearby!”

“Okay,” Michael replied, and stared at the ground to see where he was going. When he got closer, his head shot up, and he gasped at the sight of Jim. “Oh my god, what happened to him?”

“He fell and broke his leg,” Dwight replied somberly. “That’s why I was warning you about cliffs. What did you need help with?”

“I… I got lost,” Michael managed as he stared at Jim, teary-eyed. “Will he be okay?” 

“We’re trying to find the trail, we’re also lost. But we don’t want to lose sight of the stream.” They continued walking downward. 

“Hi, Jim. Is he conscious?” 

“Hi Michael,” Jim mumbled. 

“Oh, god,” Michael said as he glanced at Jim’s leg. “Did the bone… go through…”

“Yep,” Dwight said.

“Oh, god,” he repeated, scrubbing his face with his hands. 

In the distance, they saw the shapes of several people.

“Hey!” Michael yelled. “Who is that?”

“I think it’s Group Two,” Dwight replied as they quickened their pace. Andy, Angela, and Oscar turned as they saw them approaching. “Do you guys know where the trail is?”

“It should be just back there,” Oscar said. “We didn’t go far. Oh, god, what happened to him?” 

“Broken leg,” Dwight replied. 

“Tunes!” Andy exclaimed as he shoved past Oscar, his expression aghast. “Oh, man, he’s not dead, is he?”

“Not dead, Andy,” Jim mumbled, his eyes closed. 

“Tuna, I don’t know if the whole ‘light’ thing is real, but if you do see a bright light, please don’t go toward it! Okay?”

“I won’t, Andy.”

“Move it, Bernard. You’re interrupting a rescue mission,” Dwight said. Andy stepped aside. Angela shielded her eyes from Jim, even though everything graphic had been covered by gauze. She held her hands up in a prayer as she mumbled something or another about keeping Jim safe, which Dwight respected her greatly for. 

The group continued until they came across Group Leftovers, who directed them even closer to the trail. Thankfully, Toby had found the plastic bag of cellphones, along with Michael’s geiger counter. Him and Meredith began going through the bag to check if any of them had reception. They finally made it to the path again, though there was no sign of anybody yet. As they followed it, Kelly and Ryan appeared around a bend. 

“Oh my god, what happened?!” Kelly exclaimed as she rushed toward Jim and Dwight. “Is this because you killed that deer?”

“He fell off a cliff and broke his leg,” Michael informed her. Kelly burst into tears, which was actually beneficial, because it roused Jim somewhat. 

“Hey, Kels,” Jim said. “I’m okay. It’s just a leg.”

“Just a leg? What if you’ll never walk again, Jim?”

“Kelly!” Oscar exclaimed. 

“Then I’ll get one of those cool wheelchairs. The ones you can go really fast on.”

“Oh, those are awesome. You could put turbo boosters on it,” Michael said. 

“Hey man, if you do end up in a wheelchair, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure the company gets a wheelchair ramp installed,” Ryan said. 

“Where would we need a ramp?” Jim mumbled. Ryan thought about this for a second, then stepped away. 

The group stopped dead in their tracks. Along the path, heading towards them, was a black bear. Worse yet, it had her cubs with her. The bear froze when she saw them, the cubs clustered around her legs. She released a gutteral snorting sound and stood up on her hind legs. 

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Dwight bellowed. “Someone bang some pots and pans!” 

“They got stolen, remember?” Michael asked, petrified. 

“Well, start yelling stuff! We need to be aggressive!” 

“She has her cubs, Dwight, didn’t you say—” Oscar tried.

“To hell with what I said!” Dwight replied, his eyes blazing as he looked over his shoulder. “We can’t afford to go back, or off the trail! Make some noise!”

People began to shout. It didn’t seem to affect the bear, who continued to snort, stamp its feet, and even dashed forward a few times, much to the frightened shrieks of the crowd. 

“That’s a bluff charge! Stand your ground!” Dwight said. 

“We need to get the hell out of here—” Andy was cut off by a revving sound coming from further up the trail. Some of the group took their eyes off the bear to see what it was. As it drew nearer, Dwight identified it as a motor for a vehicle. It rounded the bend and came into view, revealing itself to be a four-wheeled dirt bike. 

“Creed?” someone exclaimed as dust shot out from the back and sides of the vehicle. With a pot on his head and a pan in his lap, Creed took them in his hands and banged them together, laughing maniacally while he sped down the slope. The bear startled and ran off into the woods, her cubs chasing behind her. Creed stopped the dirt bike by the group. 

“Great camp, guys!” 

“Where the hell did you get that?” Michael asked.

“Jim’s leg is broken and I need to get him down the mountain as fast as possible. I’m hijacking this dirt bike,” Dwight commanded. 

“All yours!” Creed said cheerfully as he hopped off. Dwight placed Jim facing backwards, then slotted into the driver’s seat. 

“Someone use something to tie us together so he doesn’t fall off,” Dwight said. Moments later, a rope was retrieved and wrapped around the two of them. “Sorry Jim, this will probably hurt your leg. But we’ll be down the bottom much sooner this way.” Dwight revved the engine and they sped off together. A few minutes later, they ran into Pam and Group Awesome.

“Oh my god!” She said as Dwight stopped beside them. “Jim!” 

“He fell and broke his leg, Pam, but he’ll be okay. I know you’re scared, but I need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible, so I have to keep going.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her face streaked with tears. Jim’s eyelids fluttered, then half-opened. When he saw Pam he smiled at her lazily. “Hey, Jim,” she whispered.

“Hey, Pam,” he replied. “I’ll see you real soon, okay?”

“Yep,” she said, and waved goodbye as they continued down.

Several days later, Jim sat in his hospital bed, watching a DVD on his laptop. He scooped some of the hospital’s ice-cream, which came in a little cardboard container, into his mouth. It wasn’t very good, but he couldn’t stop eating it. His painkillers made him lactose intolerant, which made it even worse. He’d only woken up properly half an hour ago, rather than phasing in and out of sleep, and nobody had been there when he did. His laptop had been sitting in the chair next to his bed, however, among cards, flowers, and some of his favourite foods. He ignored the feeling of dejection when he’d realised none of his gifts or cards had been addressed from Dwight. 

A shadow appeared in the doorway. “Jim,” it said. 

Jim turned his head to see Dwight. A smile immediately erupted on his face, though Dwight appeared uncertain as he inspected Jim’s condition. He entered the room with something in his hands. “Hey, Dwi.”

“Pam should be back in fifteen minutes. She ran down to get lunch.” Dwight dropped his eyes to the box he was holding. “I brought you something, but I wanted to give it to you in person.”

“You got me a gift?” Jim asked, his smile now an all-out grin. He reached for the box. “What is it?”

“It’s a thank you for saving my life, and an apology for risking yours. Open it.”

Jim opened the box. He gasped when he saw what was inside, then as he carefully lifted it out he laughed in delight. “Dwight, this is gorgeous. Did you make this?”

“With some help from Mose…”

The gift was a six inch tall, hand-carved wooden buck. The wood had even been stained and polished, and the whole thing was mounted on a wooden base. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to remember the deer, but at least this way, it can be immortalized.”

“It’s perfect,” Jim replied. Dwight dropped his eyes with a smile. “I love it, Dwight. Thank you.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, did a bear really come on the path, or did I hallucinate that?”

“Oh, that was real, Jim.”

“Even the thing with Creed and the dirt bike?”

“All painfully real.”