“I’m fine,” she insists. But none of us are convinced. We have no idea what we’re dealing with. The virus could hit her immediately or in several hours. And either way, it’s a grim thought. We’re all too aware of the guards at the door, watching us. Maude, Jago, and the others begin a rapid-fire conversation in Portuguese, the language they speak to each other when they don’t want anyone else to understand them. It’s a smart move now, since the guards likely don’t speak it.

“We have to find them,” I tell Levi and Pru, hearing the desperation in my own voice. “Ollie, my dad, and the others. Then get to the boats and leave.” It’s simple, really. And also more complex than anything we’ve undertaken. Where are they? How will we release them when we’re captives ourselves?

Everyone starts talking over each other, but I let their voices wash over me, not listening to any one of their conversations. It all becomes noise, and I get lost in my thoughts of Ollie. Where is he? That’s when I’m hit with an idea.

It’s a tiny shred of hope in what feels like a hopeless situation. I turn and go, walking to the wall with wide windows at the top and staring out at the hint of blue I can see from where I stand.

I couldn’t read Gravelle’s mind, but he is the exception, isn’t he? And I’ve read Ollie’s thoughts before, back at Darkwood. More than once. I know it’s a long shot because he could be anywhere on this compound. I’ll have to concentrate as hard as I can on reaching his mind, without having him near me. There’s no guarantee it will work, but I pray that it might.

Ollie, I think. If you’re here, somewhere on this island. It’s me. Emma. I miss you like peanut butter misses banana, on that sandwich you shared with me back in third grade, when you took a chance and sat next to the new girl at lunch.

Nothing. I let out a breath, trying to get into that meditative state my father’s psychologist used to lecture me about. Come on, Ollie! If you’re alive… I suck in a breath that nearly chokes me but force myself to push through the pain. Let me in. I need to help you. This is your only shot, unless you’ve discovered time travel and have sent yourself back to third grade. Then maybe you’re on to something.

I pause.

Another simulation. When is this gonna end? I don’t wanna see that twisted version of my childhood again.

I gasp. What was that? A thought. It was definitely a thought. Another one comes. And then another, flooding my brain in a stream of consciousness, fading in and out, but definitely there. And definitely real.