Archie awoke to the sound of birds. He opened his eyes, squinted in the light, and saw water. It lapped gently below him, shimmering with dawn. His whole body hurt. He lay there for a few minutes without moving, trying to piece together where he was and what had happened to him. Then he slowly took in his surroundings. He was splayed on his side on a muddy bank, surrounded by ferns. He could see across the lake, to the docks and houses hedged in by conifers. He was still on the island. He wrestled his wrist forward with a groan and looked at his watch. It was almost five-thirty in the morning. He felt cold to the bone and his hands felt numb and clumsy. He tried to sit up and felt a stabbing pain in his head. He took a few slow breaths and then gently eased himself to a sitting position. His shirt was grimy and stained with dirt. His jacket and tie were gone. His mask was gone. He had mud under his fingernails. His hands smelled strangely of lavender. He felt an irritation in his throat like he’d swallowed something and it had gotten caught halfway down. Archie coughed, trying to dislodge it, but couldn’t bring it up. He swallowed hard a few times, trying to get it down the other way, but it remained firmly in place, a small itch behind his Adam’s apple. He emptied his pockets. His phone still said no service. He still had the compass from Henry and Claire. He still had the magazine of bullets that he’d ejected from the gun. He still had the brass pillbox. He opened it. There were only two pills. He stared at them, perplexed. There had been ten when he’d started the evening, and he didn’t remember taking any. He touched his throat, wondering if that’s what he was feeling—a pill. He pinched the remaining two between his dirty fingers, tossed them on his tongue, and chewed them. The bitter taste pulled at the corners of his mouth as the pills broke apart between his teeth. He swallowed the last of the chalky residue and looked at the water. Then he tried to stand.

The sudden change in elevation drove a blade of pain through his head again. He reached up and touched his skull and his fingers found dried blood. He searched his memory for any clues to what had happened and came up with nothing. He remembered Star. He remembered finding Leo in the bedroom. And then … nothing.

He stumbled to the edge of the water and looked at his reflection. His face was smeared with mud. Blood clotted his hair. He coughed again, trying to clear his throat.

What had happened to him?