I accessed the attachment. Ray Caldwell appeared on the visiscreen, sitting in an office and wearing a white lab coat. An Andy Warhol print hung on the wall behind him. He leaned toward the screen the moment the message started.

He sounded more worried, more rushed than in the message he’d sent my father. “Sam, I’m not sure how this message is going to get to you. It makes no sense, with your being beyond communication, but for some reason you came to mind. As did your cousin Lauren and my colleague Eli. Perhaps that’s God’s doing. I’ve sent them messages as well. I can only hope that you’ll shortly emerge from the jungle and that Inland Tribes will be able to get this message to you.”

He hurriedly glanced away, then back. “It’s been so long since we talked. I’d give you other news, but matters here are urgent, and I need to get this off to you. You know that the country has entered a very dark time—a darkness that has only deepened in the years since you left. I’m loath to be the bearer of such bad news, but I’ve recently come to understand that life itself may soon be withdrawn, not only from America, but, theoretically, from the entire planet—though surely God will intervene before that. We have enemies that, I realize now, are more insidious than even I could have imagined, for I’ve been in the very thick of their plot, all the while not knowing it. Their—”

He looked away again. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll complete this message in a second installment.”

The message ended. The screen went blank. I looked again at the message from Inland Tribes. There were no other attachments. There was no second installment.

I looked at Abby. “Similar to the one he sent my dad.”

She nodded.

“What do you think it means?”

She glanced to where the visiscreen had been, then back at me. “I’m not sure. He sounds so concerned, but I can’t make much sense of it.”

“His reference to life itself disappearing…Do you know what that may refer to?”

She shrugged, worry clearly etched into her face. “No.”

“Well. This may take awhile.” I looked at Abby’s suitcase still sitting in the entryway. “Why don’t we get you settled in? And how about a hot meal?”

She forced a smile. “That sounds good.”

I showed Abby to the guest room and let her unpack while I prepared dinner. Thirty minutes later we sat across from each other at my table, steam rising from a bowl of rice and vegetables. I waited while she bowed her head and said what I assumed was a silent prayer.

“Do you always do that at meals?”

She nodded, dishing broccoli and carrots onto my plate.

“Does the Bible tell you to do that?”