“You don’t slow me down,” I insist, but Sarah waves this objection away.

“It’s okay, John. I want to be with you. I want to see that you’re okay, I want to see you win. But not every soldier can be on the front lines, you know? Some do more good when they’re away from the action.”

“Sarah . . .”

“I’ve got my phone,” she continues, motioning to the hastily packed backpack at her feet. Inside it she has a disposable cell phone that Malcolm bought, along with a few changes of clothes and a handgun. “I’ll check in every eight hours. But if I don’t, you have to keep going, keep fighting.”

I get what she’s trying to do. Sarah doesn’t want me rushing off to Alabama if she misses one of her check-in phone calls. She wants my head in the game. Maybe she can sense it, too—that we’re nearing the end of this fight, or at least crossing a point of no return.

Sarah looks into my eyes. “This is bigger than us, John.”

“Bigger than us,” I repeat, knowing it’s the truth yet wanting to fight against it. I don’t want to lose her, and I don’t want to say good-bye. But I have to.

I look down at our interlinked hands and remember how simple things were, at least for a little while, back when I first moved to Paradise.

“You know, the first time my telekinesis started working was during that Thanksgiving at your house.”

“You never told me that,” Sarah replies, an eyebrow raised, not sure why I’m suddenly getting sentimental. “Did my mom’s cooking inspire you?”

I chuckle. “I don’t know. Maybe. That was the same night Henri had his run-in with the original They Walk Among Us crew, along with the Mogadorians who were using them. Afterward, he wanted to leave Paradise, and I refused. Actually, I didn’t just refuse, I used my telekinesis to pin him to the ceiling.”

“Sounds like you,” Sarah says, shaking her head and smiling. “Stubborn.”

“I told him I couldn’t go back to living on the run. Not after Paradise. And you.”

“Oh, John . . .” Sarah puts her forehead against my chest.

“I used to think this war wasn’t worth fighting if I couldn’t be by your side,” I tell her, gently lifting her chin. “But now, after everything that’s happened, after everything I’ve seen—I realize that I’m fighting for the future. Our future.”

The dashboard clock looms impossibly large in the corner of my eye. Only five minutes left. I focus on Sarah, wishing I had a Legacy where I could freeze time, or store this moment up. Tears slip down Sarah’s cheeks and I wipe them away with my thumbs. She puts her hand over mine, squeezing hard, and I can tell she’s trying to steel herself. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and fights back more tears.

“I have to go, John.”

“I trust you,” I whisper urgently. “I don’t just mean to find Mark. If things get bad, I trust you to stay alive. I trust you to come back to me in one piece.”