Later on, in the barracks room, I lay down on the cot next to his and said, “Matt?”
“Mmm?”
“You know that’s not true, right?”
“What’s not?”
“That you killed him, your…colleague.”
I heard him sit up, the light went on between our bunks, and there he was, sitting facing me, frowning.
“Well,” I said. “You didn’t.”
“Who did, then?”
“Well, the bear for one thing.” I held up a hand to forestall his objection. “And, I mean—come on! He went out without a gun. That was kind of stupid. You admit that, right?”
“He was upset—freaked out. He said he thought we were friends.”
And at this Matt began to sob again. This time I got up and sat down gingerly beside him. Hesitantly I laid a hand on his shoulder, and was surprised when he didn’t shrug it off.
“You probably were,” I said quietly. “You
