“When—” I swallowed, embarrassed that I still couldn’t manage to unfold the paper in my pocket. “When was my deal? What year? If you remember everything, then you’ll remember when you were alive. I’ve been drinking the water this whole time, so I have no idea. Did my time overlap with your time on Earth?”

“Why do you think I’d know anything about your—”

“Obviously you read it. Just tell me.”

Cal swallowed. “Yeah, actually. It did. In the thirties.” She squinted in thought. “1937.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

I walked over to the old man in the bed.

“General,” I said, and he flinched. I leaned down and took his face in one hand, drool sticking to my thumb. “When did you leave the barracks?”

“In 1935,” Cal said.

“Where did you go?” I dropped his face from my grip, and he winced, spitting blood in a glob that landed on the linoleum like a translucent insect. “Come on, big man, take us on your journey.”

“North Carolina,” he said finally. “Silver Shirts in Asheville.”

“Are you fucking kidding—”

“Until when?”

“Till 1943. We kept it running, despite what they say.” Was there a hint of pride in his voice? I gave him a swift chop to the Adam’s apple just in case.

“Cal, is there anything that only you would know about back then? Not something that happened to you, but something only you had, or thought about? Something so personal that if someone were to say it or show it to you back then, you would know you could believe them?”

“You’ve already got it,” she said, nodding to my chest. I reached into my shirt and pulled out the soda-tab necklace.

“The whole time I was on the road, I was looking for those. But outside of the barracks, I never found one.”

“Okay,” I said, letting the aluminum fall back against my chest. “This just might work. But you’re going to have to do something you don’t like.”

She frowned at me. “What?”

I picked up the notebook from the floor and put it back in the lockbox with the reels of film, which I then tucked under my arm. My tablet beeped again, and I checked the screen.

It wasn’t just one of the Harrisons. It was Mickey.

I took one look at her, facedown in the water, her spine floating higher than the rest of her, as if it were the only buoyant thing left inside, and clicked Confirm.

“You’re going to have to leave with me, right now. Time is of the essence here. And even worse, you’re going to have to trust me.”

SILAS

“OH MY GOD, MR. HARRISON,” Ruth shrieked, dipping her shoulders back under the water. “You scared me! How long have you been here?”