And suddenly Will is going to be in the one place he doesn’t want to be. He’s the one person besides Karloff who knows not to be there…and he’s just been selected.

79.

79.

“The court calls Zack Yellin to the stand.”

Zack strides to the front of the packed courtroom.

With a phone in his pocket that can, as far as he knows, blow them all to oblivion, if and when he presses the six digits. Hardly a feeling of power. A feeling of terror, of disorientation. The end of the world in his pocket. Is that the end of the world in your pocket or are you just unhappy to see us?

Just like the switching of phones has repeated itself, the trial is a repetition too. Playing out again, as if reality is some kind of inescapable loop.

But it’s not just a switching of phones, Zack realizes. More than switching phones, they’re switching roles.

Because Joey was supposed to be the one with the detonator in his pocket.

And instead, Zack has it. For the opposite reason, of course. The explosive phone is there in his pocket so it doesn’t go off.

“State your name and address, for the record.”

“Zack Yellin,” and he pauses, doesn’t know what to give as an address. “No current address,” he says.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth…”

He scans the packed courtroom. Imagined dozens. And here they are. Quite real.

He scans the gallery of the courtroom and sees Emily and Detective Lopez a few seats from each other. He sits up straight, startled by both.

Lopez. Not on Long Island but here in the courtroom. Just yards away. And yet Zack can’t reach him. Can’t call or text him. Can’t tell him anything about the switched phones or a suspected bomb or a detonator in his pocket. Unless he blurts it out and causes a stampede, a riot, pandemonium. Hey, Detective Lopez. See this? I think it’s a detonator.

And Emily. Confusion, longing, fear for her safety, all tumble within Zack, unsortable. What is she doing here?

Lopez. Emily. The past is repeating. Reorganizing itself. In some manner he doesn’t really understand.

“Mr. Yellin, do you recognize the defendant?”

“Yes.”

Joey and Zack lock eyes and exchange looks blankly, unreadably, giving nothing away. An exchange of looks observed by several dozen in the courtroom.

Exchanging looks with the only other person in the courtroom who knows what is in Zack’s pocket.

You took my phone, Zack.

Yes, I took your phone, Joey.

To save innocent people, Zack? Or to save me from myself?

“Can you describe the circumstances under which you first met Mr. Richter?”