“I know,” she said, but she shook her head no as she said it. She was still fingering the tarnished metal holes when the General woke up.

I heard him breathe before I saw his open eyes. He inhaled in squeaks and exhaled in grinds, like his breath was traffic and his throat the Holland Tunnel. He hacked, wiping tears from the ravines of his face, the channels that connected the corners of his eyes to the corners of his lips to the soft wobble of his chin.

Cal heard him, too, and her spine tensed. He opened his mouth without a sound, a fish meeting oxygen, and she tossed the key to me in time to flash him a smile, take hold of his emergency call button, and sink her teeth into the rubber-cased wires, tearing them clean. I was almost surprised there was no blood when the severed remote slid to a stop next to my foot. Then she sat down on the mattress, hard, so that his head had no choice but to slide into her lap. I could see the tendons in his neck straining back, but that was all he could manage.

“So,” she said, pulling his skull against her and stroking the white hairs of his temple. “Where the fuck have you been, Dad?”

LILY

THEY WALKED IN THROUGH the woods, the wild ones, away from the lights of the houses. She didn’t want to take him to the clearing; there was too big a risk of being seen, and besides, she didn’t want to stand in that spot with him. Lily felt Sarah there enough herself; she thought it might kill Gavin. So instead, she took him around to the boathouse, where they could see the lake from the dock. She peeked into the driveway to find the car was back, but Phil’s bike was gone. She had gotten a text back from Mickey saying they were going over to the Watersons’ that night, so she knew the kids weren’t home. Silas must’ve gone out for a ride. At least he hadn’t loaded them in the car and driven for Canada.

Again, she remembered his words. My family. That bike would’ve been destroyed years ago if she hadn’t insisted on reinforcing the shed.

When they reached the property, Lily led Gavin into the boathouse. She thought about talking to Silas about a new boat— nothing fancy, just something to take out with the kids to go tubing—but then she remembered she might never again have that kind of mundane conversation with him. In fact, she realized, she might never again stand in this boathouse, breathing in rhythm with the water.

Then she remembered why she was there.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice quiet. “You can’t really see anything at night.”

“I just want to stand there,” Gavin said.