We began walking through the parking lot, the smell of baking asphalt and Damian’s cologne somehow both nostalgic, when he turned to me, and said—I know I sound paranoid to you. I can tell by the way you look at me sometimes, that you think that.

No, I—I don’t really think so, I lied, feeling caught out.

But I have been on the inside of it, okay, he said.

We slowed to a stop as a uniformed teenager pushed a giant conga line of shopping carts past us into the outdoor dock.

I was a drone operator in Nevada for five years, he said, squinting against the sun. Sitting in a bunker under the sand. Hitting convoys of jeeps in Syria. Or some house in, you know, northwest Pakistan or wherever.

He glanced at me to gauge my reaction. Just taking people’s lives because that was the intel, he said. I didn’t know the first thing about who these guys were. Most of them probably just boys, running around on rooftops.

We began to walk again. You watch and watch and watch these guys, he continued. You see them talking with their wives. High-fiving their friends in the street. And then you . . . you know. He stuck his pinkie finger in his ear and swivelled around. You can see them hear it coming too, he said. Just a second before.

We slowed our pace to allow a black sedan to back out of its parking spot ahead of us.

After I had Elijah, I just couldn’t anymore, he said. I’d be throwing up. And having these dreams. And so after that I started working in military intelligence, for a contractor. I know, you wouldn’t think to look at me. He winked and tapped his temple—Me and intelligence.

No, c’mon, I said, forcing a laugh.

But seriously, if you knew the shit they could do, Claire, you wouldn’t sleep at night. The shit they know about us, he said, shaking his head. And I just saw the tip of the iceberg.

We arrived at Damian’s large white pickup. Through the windshield I noticed Crystal and Elijah both sitting in the cab, Crystal buried in her phone, and Elijah sucking on a long blue freezie. Damian dropped his grocery bags down on the ground and looked at me—You may not like him, but lemme tell you, I’m glad Trump’s cleaning out the FBI and the CIA. Those are sick places.

Damian turned and called Crystal’s name. She looked up, smiled, and gave me a little wave. He motioned for her to come out, and she climbed down out of the cab. Damian introduced me as a friend from his ‘study group.’

So you do exist! she said with a laugh. He’s been so secretive about it.