The plan very well may have been to have these airborne directed-energy weapons stationed all over the place, and eventually Carrie would have an army of her own human drones operating mechanical ones. We may not know what she had in mind, and I suspect Benton won’t find out no matter how much time he spends questioning her eventually.

Carrie isn’t going to talk. If she does, nothing will be truthful. Or even if it is, it won’t be helpful. Not to us.

I’M STARTLED AWAKE WHEN Tesla suddenly sits up and barks, and I realize I must have drifted back to sleep. I fluff pillows behind me to prop myself up, and I pet her head as she barks again and Sock barely stirs.

“Yes, I know you’ve learned a big dog trick but please be quiet.” I pet the small white bulldog with her brown-masked eyes as she barks and barks, her sides heaving in and out like bellows.

Woof—woof—woof—woof …!

“Okay, that’s enough. What is it you think you hear?” I throw back the covers, and she won’t stop.

I get up and pad barefoot to the curtained window across from the bed, and peeking out, I don’t see anything except the rain lashing and flooding the driveway two stories down. The wind howls again, and Tesla barks more frantically as our brindle greyhound Sock continues to snooze.

“All right. Shhhh.” I stroke Tesla gently, talking very soothingly, and it makes me feel better too. “It’s just a storm.” I rub her speckled ears, and the door to the bedroom opens.

“Rise and shine,” Dorothy sings out as she enters, and now I know why Tesla was barking.

It was my sister she was hearing, and Dorothy is wearing a large T-shirt and nothing else as she carries two coffees.

“Mind if I come in?” as she hands me a steaming mug and sits on the bed. “Hush Tesla. I can’t stand a yippy dog.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call her yippy. She sounds rather fierce.”

“Well it’s an irony, right? She’s named for a car that’s supposed to be quiet.”

“Actually it’s Lucy’s joke. For someone with the biggest carbon footprint on the planet? Now she can tell people she has a Tesla.”

“How do you feel? I’ve heard stories about people who get shocked almost to death or struck by lightning and suddenly they can play the piano or their IQ goes up ten points.”

“I’ll let you know. I’ve always wanted to play the piano.”

“Did you have unusual dreams?”

“Not yet.”

“Listen, Kay. I need to explain better what happened,” my sister starts to say, and I stop her.

“How is Desi doing?” I ask because all of us should worry about how traumatized he might be.