Then his face freezes, and I know what he’s thinking. Most folks these days aren’t grilling anything at all.

“Any ideas on getting to Port Clinton safely?” Trey asks.

“I made the trip once already,” Wyatt says, “so I know it’s possible.”

“Ah, but we’ve been sighted here now,” Manny reminds us. “I’ve seen drones fly by on the cameras half a dozen times this morning.”

Something shivers down my spine. What if they’re actively looking for us now?

At the expressions on our faces, Manny hurriedly adds, “I do think such a trip is feasible, though! In fact, this might be time to test a theory I’ve been playing with.”

“What theory?” says Trey.

“Well, the tower retracts every night around two a.m., right?” he says.

“It does?” I ask.

“Yep. I suspect it powers down to cool off or refuel or maybe process more lake water for energy. My friend at the Kisumu Cell in Kenya thought the towers might be solar powered, and that their energy stores deplete after a few hours of darkness. Whatever the case may be, the towers all over the world disappear beneath the surface of whatever lake they’re parked in during the night—surely you’ve heard? It makes a deep, alarming sound. Like your chest is suddenly a kettle drum.”

“Whoomp!” says Trey.

So that’s what that was. “We heard it all the way down in Columbus!” I say.

“Here, it’s really intense,” Wyatt says. “Like you’re standing next to giant speakers at a dubstep concert.”

“I must have slept through it last night,” I say wonderingly.

“You did,” Manny says. “You slept through my broadcast, too. That’s why I broadcast at three a.m. I’m hoping fewer Farmers might be listening. Well, that and the fact that radio waves travel a longer distance at night when there’s less—”

“Why do you think submerging the tower prevents the Farmers from listening?” Trey asks.

“Because up until that point, the dragonflies in the area are really busy. Even when it’s dark you can see them flashing across the vid screens, like they’re doing final sweeps. That’s one reason I warn people in my broadcast not to travel at night. The dragonflies are very, very active at night. Until the tower goes down, that is. Then they disappear. Every single one. I just confirmed it by going back over my notes. Since taking up my station here as keeper of the Sandusky Cell, I haven’t seen a single drone after two a.m.”

We stare at each other in collective silence.

Then I say, “Manny, are you sure?”