Winslow watched my hands with sharp, focused eyes.

“It works,” I whispered, holding up the green screen where he could see it.

“The battery is full.”

“Good,” he said.

His voice was raspy, but the words came out more smoothly than they had at dawn.

“Who do you want me to call?” I asked.

“No call,” Mr.

Winslow whispered, lifting his chin two inches off the pillow.