I pull back and check my mother’s watch. It’s 11:38 p.m., the time of my death. I stare at the watch, holding my breath, until the minute hand moves past, ticking over to 11:39.

We did it. We changed the future.

We’re free.

Tuesday

Tuesday

The last time I was in the hospital was after Mamá was killed. I don’t have fond memories of it, but this place is different. There are murals on the walls of dancing animals, and the floor is decorated with colorful stars. The elevator door is even bright purple.

Adam leans against the nurse’s desk, smiling at the girl behind it as they chat. They all love him here, which somehow doesn’t surprise me. They give him two blue volunteer jackets, and he slips one on.

“This way,” he says once he’s back at my side.

He hands me the second volunteer jacket, and I put it on as he leads me down the hallway. Each door is painted a different color. We stop in front of an orange one, and Adam knocks twice. When there’s no response, he pushes it open.

A tiny girl lies in a hospital bed with a dozen tubes coming out of her. Her head is shiny and smooth. Her eyes are closed, her pink lips just slightly open. Her small hands grip the edge of the covers as she breathes slowly. My heart clenches; she’s so young, so tiny, so innocent. I’ll never forgive Lynne for what she’s done, but seeing her daughter like this helps me understand why she fought so hard to save her.

Adam moves beside the bed and opens the Doctor Who lunch box he brought. He pulls out one of the three doses of the cure we found on Lynne’s body and hooks it up to the girl’s IV.

“I’ll have to come back tomorrow night to do the second one,” he says as he steps back. “It has to be delivered over three days, one dose every twenty-four hours.”

“But it’ll work?” I ask. “She’ll be cured?”

“I think so. It seemed to work for my mom. We won’t know for sure till she goes back in for tests, but I can already tell she’s a lot better.”

“Good.” Lynne’s daughter shouldn’t have to pay for her mother’s mistakes. And once Adam figures out how to make the cure, he’ll be able to save even more lives. It took Adam ten years in that other future, but now he won’t be burdened by grief or trying to figure out who killed us. He can focus on his destiny.

“How much does your mom know about the cure?” I ask.