“I’m going to pry for answers tomorrow,” I whisper to Jack, “when he’s actually coherent—” A phone rings too loudly. Donnelly suddenly startles awake. “Fuck. Sorry.” Jack runs to the pull-out and searches for his cell twisted in the sheets. “Donnelly. Donnelly. You’re safe, bro.” He slips and falls on his ass. “You were sleepwalking.” “Huh?” He squints at the light.
