She felt the fever she had barely noticed before. Her mind’s eye flashed to the people at Mandera Hospital, suffering, dying. Without a cure, that would likely be her fate. She had traveled to Mandera almost a week ago. If she assumed she’d been infected for five to seven days…

She pushed the thought out of her mind. She had to focus.

She set about organizing their supplies and strained to hear any sound of gunfire or struggle. The fog was still thick on the runway and around the plane.

After what seemed like hours, she heard someone jogging on the paved runway. The sound stopped when the person or persons hit the grass near the plane. Instinctively, Peyton moved to the cockpit, ready to close the door and seal herself off if necessary.

Boots pounded the staircase, and Desmond appeared in the doorway.

“Miss me?”

Peyton exhaled.

“You scared me to death.”

Outside, she heard the roar of a truck engine.

“What’d you find?”

“The airport is deserted. There’s a fuel truck. We’re going to fill up, get the plane back on the runway, and get ready in case we need to leave in a hurry.”

When they had the plane fueled and back on the runway, the three of them sat in the passenger compartment.

To Desmond, Avery said, “Any memories?”

“Nothing.”

Peyton was amazed at how easily he lied. It scared her a little. Avery’s reaction gave no hint as to whether she believed him.

They discussed what to do next, finally agreeing that Avery needed to sleep and that Desmond and Peyton would take one of the airport vehicles to the GPS coordinates. They would radio back if they needed help. Avery didn’t like it, but she reluctantly consented. Not only did she need the sleep, but splitting up had one advantage: if something did go wrong at the site, she could come looking for them and potentially rescue them.

Desmond and Peyton found the keys to an old Citroen SUV in the airport’s office, and pulled out onto a paved two-lane road that wound through the green, rolling landscape. The GPS location was about forty miles from the airport, in an area of wooded hills. The fog hung heavy on the road; the headlights barely cut through it. The aurora loomed above, its green glow like a homing beacon. Peyton studied the aurora’s curving lines; they were like the plasma contrails of a spaceship in a sci-fi movie.

As Desmond drove, he told Peyton what he had remembered. For a very long time, Peyton had wanted to know what had happened after he left her on the doorstep of their little bungalow in Palo Alto. She had thought about him for countless hours since that day. Hearing the full story was nearly surreal to her, a blank page of their life together now filled in.