“Flathead and Phillips are two types of screwdrivers,” said Afa. “Also Frearson and hexhead and clutch and—”

“Yes,” said Samm, touching him reassuringly on the shoulder, “we know.”

“Don’t touch me!” Afa yelled, whirling to his feet. Samm backed off, and Afa yelled again, his face red with fury. “I never said you could touch me!”

“It’s okay, Afa,” said Kira, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, just hush—I’m going to call again, so we need it to be quiet.” The appeal to technical necessity seemed to work, and Afa sat down again. Kira clicked on the mic. “Flathead, this is Phillips, are you there? Come in, Flathead. Please respond. Over.” She clicked off, and they listened to the static.

“And clutch,” said Afa softly, “and square head, and Pozi, and Mortorq—”

“Phillips, this is Flathead.” Marcus’s voice was garbled and staticky, and Afa’s hand shot forward to tweak the dial. The voice phased in and out. “. . . in very weak, where . . . you in over a week. Over.” Marcus’s voice resolved into a clear signal, and Kira waited for him to finish before smiling and clicking on the mic.

“Sorry about the downtime, Flathead, we’ve been busy. We had to . . .” She paused, considering carefully the best way to tell him where they were without giving everything away to anyone else listening in. “Move. We had to move our base camp; they were too close to finding us. Our communication will be intermittent from now on. Over.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Marcus. “I was worried.” There was a long pause, but he hadn’t said “over,” and Kira wasn’t sure if she should try to speak again or not. Just as she reached for the mic button, Marcus spoke again. “Are you still monitoring radio traffic? Over.”

“We’ve had very intermittent access, like I said,” Kira answered. “What’s up? Over.”

There was another pause, and when Marcus spoke again, his voice was pained. “Dr. Morgan’s taken over the island. She’s conquered the whole thing—not controlling it, not like Delarosa did when she seized power, more like . . . like a zoo, almost. Like a ranch. They’re rounding up everyone they can find, trapping them here in East Meadow, and then killing them. A new one every day.” His voice had faded to a shattered whisper. “Over.”

Kira gasped.

“That’s what we heard that other person talking about,” said Afa, and Kira shushed him with a curt wave of her hand. She clicked the button to talk, already knowing the answer to her question, but compelled to ask it anyway.

“Why are they killing people?” She hesitated before signing off. “Over.”

“They’re looking for Kira Walker,” said Marcus. He was still refusing to give away her identity, but she could hear the pain in his voice, and hoped no one else was listening in on the frequency.