[This is spoiler-free.]

Tim has accidentally found his way into an unfriendly parallel universe with no apparent means to return.

Rayne, his girlfriend, realizes something is very wrong when he misses his follow-up appoint for his post-op after correction of a detached retina.

Rayne is impressive.  She figures out what happened, comes up with a plan, and follows him for a rescue attempt.  This is their meet-up:

. . .  (Tim said) . . .  "fill me in. I'm dying to know how you figured all this out. You are amazing."  (She does, then they discuss the world they've  been dropped into . . . )

"They could call the drone 'the stalker.'" Rayne gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles whitened. "With no restraining order." . . . "When I see so many up there, . . they no longer look like unmanned aircraft. They remind me of flying creatures from a million years ago. Because there's so many, it somehow changes them. In our world, you never see anything like this. Not yet. Here, they fill the sky like prehistoric birds. In a way, the future looks like the distant past." . . . 

Tim leaned forward and rested his forearms on the top of the front seat. "When I first walked into this place, this parallel universe, and saw the drones, it reminded me of something. Then I made the connection. Drones remind me of floaters. Floaters invade your eye's field of vision and block the world. In my case, they took over all of one eye. Out here, you look up and see drones. You see them floating against a blue sky. Always moving, always watching you, never letting you out of their sight. Same way with an eye floater; it appears to be watching you day and night. Watching every angle where you look. . . 

. . . just before I ran into you, he . . . (Tim was almost apprehended, but was saved by a distraction and took the opportunity to escape) . . . radioed in a drone. It was right over the alley."

"I saw it."

"He said it had cargo. It was carrying the next generation of drones called Tinks. It's named after— get ready— Tinker Bell."

"Seriously."

"Uh huh. If you think about it, it makes sense. Ever notice, the most dangerous organizations, think tanks, weapons, what have you— almost always have really benign names. The more innocent it sounds, the more lethal it is. If you run a company, let's say, that chops down half the Amazon jungle, why not call it 'Bambi and Friends.' If you run a think tank whose mission is to call climate change and global warming a hoax, call it 'The Lukewarm Foundation.' Anyway, a drone is also a type of bee. So if C.C. Seymour called his new drones 'the Killer Bees,' I'd be concerned. But when he names them after Tinker Bell, I feel petrified." . . .

 "I see what you mean." . . . 

"So," Tim summed up, "I don’t know what's waiting for us down there, but I don't think it's Peter Pan. Either way, it's almost time." . . . 

(They put finishing touches on the plan, then --)

 "Love you."

"Love you, too. But right now, my love is focused on getting us home. I would really love to get out of here. I would love to be home and eating cold, leftover pizza. I would love to never again see a dark angel flying over a telephone pole, or hear that asshole screaming inside the trunk. That's what I’d love."

So now, I have to see if their plan works.  Since I'm only at 50%, I have a feeling it won't be smooth sailing.