blue sky was a dome over a cyclopean ocean of deepest, purest ebony.
The world had been torn from beneath Flight 29.
Bethany's thought had also crossed Brian's mind; if push came to shove, if worse came to worst, he had thought, he could put the 767 into a dive and crash them into a mountain, ending it for good and all. But now there were no mountains to crash into.
Now there was no earth to crash into.
What will happen to us if we can't find the rip again? he wondered. What will happen if we run out of fuel? Don't try to tell me we'll crash, because I simply don't believe it - you can't crash into nothing. I think we'll simply fall... and fall... and fall. For how long? And how far? How far can you fall into nothing?
Don't think about it.
But how, exactly, did one do that? How did one refuse to think about nothing?
He turned deliberately back to his sheet of calculations. He worked on them, referring frequently to the INS readout, until the light had begun to fade out of the sky again. He now put the elapsed time between sunrise and sunset at about twenty-eight minutes.
He reached for the switch that controlled the cabin intercom and opened the circuit.
"Nick? Can you come up front?"
Nick appeared in the cockpit doorway less than thirty seconds later.
"Have they got their shades pulled back there?" Brian asked him before he could come all the way in.
"You better believe it," Nick said.
"Very wise of them. I'm going to ask you not to look down yet, if you can help it. I'll want you to look out in a few minutes, and once you look out I don't suppose you'll be able to help looking down, but I advise you to put it off as long as possible. It's not... very nice."
"Gone, is it?"
"Yes. Everything."
"The little girl is gone, too. Dinah. Laurel was with her at the end. She's taking it very well. She liked that girl. So did I."
Brian nodded. He was not surprised - the girl's wound was the sort that demanded immediate treatment in an emergency room, and even then the prognosis would undoubtedly be cloudy - but it still rolled a stone against his heart. He had also liked Dinah, and he believed what Laurel believed - that the girl was somehow more responsible for their continued survival than anyone else. She had done something to Mr Toomy, had used him in some strange way... and Brian had an idea that, somewhere inside, Toomy would not have minded being used in such a fashion. So, if her death was an omen, it was one of the worst sort.
"She never got her operation," he said.
"No."
"But Laurel is okay?"
"More or less."
"You like her, don't you?"
"Yes," Nick said. "I have mates who would laugh at that, but I do like her. She's a bit dewy-eyed, but she's got grit."
Brian nodded. "Well, if we get back, I wish you the best of luck."
"Thanks." Nick sat down in the co-pilot's seat again. "I've been thinking about the question you asked me before. About what I'll do when and if we get out of this mess... besides taking the lovely Laurel to dinner, that is. I suppose I might end up going after Mr O'Banion after all. As I see it, he's not all that much different from our friend Toomy."
"Dinah asked you to spare Mr Toomy," Brian pointed out. "Maybe that's something you should add into the equation."
Nick nodded. He did this as if his head had grown too heavy for his neck. "Maybe it is."
"Listen, Nick. I called you up front because if Bob's time-rip actually exists, we've got to be getting close to the place where we went through it. We're going to man the crow's nest together, you and I. You take the starboard side and right center; I'll take port and left center. If you see anything that looks like a time-rip, sing out."
Nick gazed at Brian with wide, innocent eyes. "Are we looking for a thingumabob-type time-rip, or do you think it'll be one of the more or less fuckadelic variety, mate?"
"Very funny." Brian felt a grin touch his lips in spite of himself. "I don't have the slightest idea what it's going to look like, or even if we'll be able to see it at all. If we can't, we're going to be in a hell of a jam