They must have knocked me out when I freaked out about the time gap because the next thing I remember, I was waking again in the antiseptic-smelling cubby. This time, the forehead and eyes peering down at me had changed—darker-hued skin, kinder eyes.

“Welcome back, Lisa.” It was Air Voice from before.

I liked her a bit better than that other guy. D.J.? I tried to smile at her, and though the feeding tube had been removed from my mouth, I’m still not sure the smile worked.

“I’m Eva Wilcox, and I’m the historian on this team,” Air Voice said.

Historian? Historians didn’t work in hospitals. They worked in Hope’s archives. Or sometimes the library. Or maybe someone had actually built that museum people kept talking about. D.J....

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