A combination of beeps and chirps from Saafi’s cryo chamber filled the medical ward with an annoying melody. Holly sat on a white bench in the corner of the room, holding Owen in her lap. She ran her hand through his thick mop of hair and watched Saafi’s chest rise up and down through the clear panels of his medical coffin.

Nearby, Timothy paced back and forth like a caged animal, his eye twitching rapidly. Holly ignored him, refusing to acknowledge him in the slightest way. She was at her wit’s end, and couldn’t handle much more of his antics. Holly felt something inside of her twist at the admission of the truth—that not even her PhD in psychology had been enough to prepare her for his irrational behavior. It was hard to swallow, but she knew that she was allowed to have a breaking point.

Timothy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “How long have they been gone? It’s been too long; something must have happened. Alexia, have you detected any movements inside the Biosphere? Can those things get in? They’re going to get in, aren’t they? We have to hide. Is Emanuel hiding? Where is he?”

His words were a random assortment of thoughts that Alexia found difficult to process. Every time she attempted to answer one question, he would present another.

“Mr. Roberts, I have not detected any—”

“Maybe they’re after the pond. Yeah. That makes total sense,” he said, a somewhat deranged grin spreading across his face.

“After analyzing the current data and the hypothesis presented by Dr. Winston, I would conclude your assumption is reasonable, Mr. Roberts.”

“So they are coming for our water supply!”

Before he knew it Holly was standing in front of him. Her eyes were hard. “You’re scaring Owen,” she said calmly.

Timothy glanced behind her, acknowledging Owen’s presence for the first time since they had entered the medical ward. And for a second, something inside him clicked—something changed. His eyes lit up, and he strolled past Holly toward the young boy.

He crouched to pick the boy’s blanket off the ground, handing it to him. “How did you hide from them?”

Owen looked at the man sleepily. His chubby cheeks were a flushed rosy red.

“I want my daddy,” he choked, tears streaking down his face.

Holly paced over to the bench and sat down next to him, eyeing Timothy suspiciously. “It’s okay, Owen, we’ll look for your daddy when the soldiers get back,” she said. The boy buried his head in her arms and began to whimper softly.

Timothy reached for Owen’s small hand and tapped it cautiously. “Owen, you have to tell us how you hid from them, because we’re going to need to play that game again.”