Isaac watches their eyes. Jack and Nora both wear masks, but he doesn’t need to see the whole of their faces to understand how they feel. Tears spangle their lashes and dribble down their cheeks. They clearly aren’t listening to Director Ricketts when she tells them no, they are not allowed to enter the lab. Not yet. Not until she knows more about what exactly they’re dealing with. They not only signed an NDA upon entering the facility, they terminated their parental rights. They are now here as consultants in what will be considered a biological trial, aiding in all communication efforts with the specimen.

“Can we call her Mia? Instead of a specimen?” Isaac says in a low voice. “Let’s try to be sensitive to how they must be feeling right now.”

Director Ricketts blinks at him several times as if to restore her focus. “Please don’t tell me how to do my job.”

The parents lean against the glass, their hands starfished against it, as if they might push through. Nora is tense and quiet, but Jack whimpers and pounds at the window and yells out, “Mia, Mia, Mia,” each time louder than the last.

The girl does not respond at first except to cock her head one way, then the other.

“What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she saying anything? Where did you find her? How long has she been here? Where has she been all this time? Was she kidnapped? Was she injured? Does she understand what’s happening? Has she been psychologically evaluated? Has she had a physical?” Nora asks the questions so quickly that she can’t possibly expect answers. She sees and hears nothing but her daughter.

Isaac has only so many answers—he hasn’t been able to examine the girl himself except from a distance—but he tries to talk to them. In as soothing a tone as he can manage, he explains where the girl was found, how she was unearthed. But you can’t give parents back their child—presumed dead for five years—and expect them to engage in any sort of logical conversation, let alone one that defies all reason. He might as well be saying, Here are bones, the bones can dance.

“Mia!” Jack screams one more time and that’s when the girl starts toward them. Slowly. Her feet seem heavy, as if unrooting with each step. Her joints move as if stiffened with rust. More than a minute passes before she makes it to the window.

“Why is she moving like that?” Nora says.

“Because she’s not used to moving at all,” Peaches says.