Three steps forward and the waves of Northumberland Strait lapped against the toes of Charlie’s boots. When she turned to face inland, she realized it was dark enough now and they were far enough apart that Gary’s face was a pale expressionless oval. Charlie didn’t have to see his expression; she could hear the truth in his voice. “Twenty-two months?”

“Until impact. Six months until millions die in worldwide panic. Panics. Probably plural.”

“Wait . . .” She shuffled through everything he’d told her. “You said your friend discovered it mathematically. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she forgot to carry a two or something.”

He sounded a lot more amused than the situation called for. “You have an auntie who can see the future.”

“Crap.” Two long steps back and the log rocked as she dropped down beside him. “NASA can stop it. Right?”

“In twenty-two months?” Charlie felt the shrug as much as saw it. “Figure out a way to stop it, probably. Work out how to implement the solution—research, financing, engineering, construction—and get it into space before the asteroid gets too close all in twenty-two months, from a zero start? Life isn’t a Michael Bay movie.”

“Usually, that’s a good thing.”

“Usually.”

“Is it money? Is that why they can’t . . .” She took a deep breath and stopped leaning toward him before she pushed him off the damned log. “You’d think the world’s governments would be falling over themselves to throw money at not dying.”

“You’d think. But you’ve clearly never had to apply for government funding.” Gary picked up another rock and tossed it into the water. “I’m sure you can understand why I haven’t told anyone; not Sheryl, not my parents, not even my rabbi. The panic will start soon enough; they might as well enjoy those last few months of peace.”

“You’ve come to terms with the end of the world.”

His turn to shrug. “There’s no way to stop it.”

“NASA . . .”

“Yeah, well . . .” He rubbed sand off his fingers against his jeans, the soft shunk shunk almost comforting. “. . . some of the smartest, most motivated people in the world are at NASA, but they can’t stop time and they can’t work miracles.”

Charlie sagged forward, hands dangling between her knees. “I feel like I’ve been betrayed by the Discovery Channel.”

“Actually, it’s hard to imagine science having much to do with your . . . with your life.” There was light enough she saw him spin around toward her and she definitely felt it when he grabbed her arm. “You can stop it.”

“I sing.”

“And take half a dozen steps through an imaginary forest to cover the distance between Vermont and Nova Scotia. You can’t tell me that all you do is sing.”