YOUR SISTER TOLD YOU TO HIDE IN THE ATTIC AND NOT TELL YOUR HUSBAND—THEN YOU FOUND THE PASSPORTS UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS

drains.

The SUV door closes between you.

You don’t remember the ride.

You remember a blanket around your shoulders. A medic cleaning your cuts. Mara in the back seat, one hand gripping yours, the other speaking into a radio with a voice so controlled it scares you.

You remember your phone at 3% battery.

You remember thinking you should’ve charged it.

You continue reading …