The chamber remained silent long after the scientist spoke.

  “It’s a countdown.”

  The words seemed unreal.

  Adrian stared at the device still held against his chest. The needle trembled violently, reacting to something only the machine could understand.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  The sound inside him felt louder now.

  Crowe broke the silence.

  “How long?”

  The scientist adjusted a small dial on the instrument. Numbers flickered across a tiny display before stabilizing.

  His expression changed.

  Crowe noticed immediately.

  “Well?”

  The scientist inhaled slowly.

  “Approximately thirteen days.”

  Adrian blinked.

  “…Thirteen days?”

  No one answered.

  Adrian let out a short laugh that sounded more nervous than amused.

  “So what you're saying is I’ve got thirteen days to live.”

  The scientist shook his head.

  “No.”

  Adrian frowned.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  Crowe stepped closer.

  “Then explain.”

  The scientist finally lowered the device.

  “It isn’t measuring biological failure,” he said. “Your body isn't dying.”

  Adrian crossed his arms.

  “Great. That’s comforting.”

  The scientist looked directly at him.

  “It’s measuring temporal instability.”

  Silence again.

  Adrian rubbed his forehead.

  “You’re going to need to translate that.”

  Crowe answered instead.

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  “It means something happens when the countdown ends.”

  Adrian stared at him.

  “What kind of something?”

  Crowe didn’t respond.

  Because he didn’t know.

  The scientist walked toward the massive clock standing in the center of the chamber. Its gears turned slowly behind thick glass panels.

  Twelve numbers.

  No thirteen.

  Adrian noticed the difference immediately.

  “That clock only has twelve.”

  Crowe nodded.

  “All clocks do.”

  Adrian hesitated.

  “…Except the one in my apartment.”

  The scientist froze.

  Crowe turned slowly toward Adrian.

  “Repeat that.”

  “The clock on my wall,” Adrian said. “It has thirteen numbers.”

  For the first time since they met him, Crowe looked genuinely concerned.

  “That shouldn’t exist.”

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  The sound inside Adrian’s chest continued.

  The scientist returned to the machine beside him, typing commands into a small console.

  Numbers began scrolling across a screen.

  Crowe leaned over his shoulder.

  “What are you checking?”

  “Historical records,” the scientist replied.

  “For what?”

  The man hesitated before answering.

  “For the last time something like this happened.”

  Adrian didn't like the way that sounded.

  “…And?”

  The scientist stared at the screen.

  “There’s only one recorded event.”

  Crowe’s voice lowered.

  “When?”

  The scientist swallowed.

  “Seventy-three years ago.”

  Adrian waited.

  “What happened?”

  The scientist slowly looked up.

  “The file doesn’t say.”

  Crowe frowned.

  “Impossible.”

  “It’s classified beyond Bureau clearance.”

  Crowe crossed his arms.

  “That means someone higher than us buried it.”

  Adrian took a step back.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “That ended badly.”

  Neither man replied.

  The ticking continued.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Adrian suddenly felt cold.

  “Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s say this clock inside me reaches zero.”

  Crowe looked at him.

  “Then what?”

  The scientist spoke before Crowe could answer.

  “That’s the problem.”

  He paused.

  “We don’t know.”

  Every countdown ends.

  The danger lies in what follows.