The clock is still ticking in his head. The reunion is starting. People are in danger. He has to get out of here.

He starts working on the zip ties. Then he sees something move. There, out of the corner of his eye. The shadows in that pile of junk are different now.

Remembering the Shadowmen, remembering what they can do, Danny starts twisting in the chair. It doesn’t help.

He hears a clatter of metal falling to the concrete floor. Which is not quite right. The Shadowmen were always silent.

“Who’s there?” he says, which is not an entirely dumb question, if a little unoriginal.

From all around him, a voice echoes with the tinny reverb of an old speaker.

“I told you it wasn’t over, Danny,” it says.

Danny sags in the chair. He feels like an idiot.

“Oh. Dr. Sax. I’m glad it’s you. For a minute there, I thought I was in trouble.”

He begins twisting his wrists again. The trick is to stretch the plastic in the zip ties, then slide out.

There is the staticky noise of Sax’s laugh, just like before. “You are in trouble, Danny.”

“No. Don’t think so.”

“Of course not,” Sax says, somehow conveying amusement and contempt in the limited register of his digital voice. “Danny Sharp doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“Oh, I’m open to the possibility. I mean, I’d have to be an idiot not to consider it after everything I’ve seen. But I’m not sure what you are. Ghosts aren’t usually confined to electronic devices.”

“What makes you think I’m confined to anything?”

“Because you haven’t touched me directly. You haven’t hurt me.” Danny almost has enough slack to free his right hand, if he doesn’t mind losing a little skin. “Whatever you are, you’re not much of a threat.”

“Are you sure about that, Danny?”

Danny yanks his right hand free with almost no bleeding. He flexes his fingers, then undoes the other zip tie. “Reasonably sure. There’s nothing useful for you here to inhabit. My workshop was filled with dangerous toys. Now you’ve got a bunch of scrap and old stereo components. Not exactly terrifying.”

“You’re wrong.”

Danny undoes the last of his bonds. He stands. Pins and needles stab his legs. He thinks of the blue box, and puts the pain away.

“Edgar, I kicked the shit out of you when you were alive. You think that’s going to change now that you’re dead?”

“That’s a fascinating theory, Danny,” Sax says, his voice now very cold and clear, and somehow closer. “But unfortunately, as I said, you’re wrong.”

Danny’s pocket buzzes.

“What electronic device do people carry with them everywhere they go, Danny? How do you think I knew exactly where you were? You think you could get rid of me by changing phones?”