to him, but it'll do. That's your adventure. Will you do it?"
"Yes... but..."
"Good. Laurel, thank you." He put his left hand against the nape of her neck, pulled her face to his, and kissed her. His mouth was cold, and she tasted fear on his breath.
A moment later he was gone.
26
"Are we going to feel like we're... you know, choking?" Bethany asked. "Suffocating?"
"No," Brian said. He had gotten up to see if Nick was coming; now, as Nick reappeared with a very shaken Laurel Stevenson behind him, Brian dropped back into his seat. "You'll feel a little giddy... swimmy in the head... then, nothing." He glanced at Nick. "Until we all wake up."
"Right!" Nick said cheerily. "And who knows? I may still be right here. Bad pennies have a way of turning up, you know. Don't they, Brian?"
"Anything's possible, I guess," Brian said. He pushed the throttle forward slightly. The sky was growing bright again. The rip lay dead ahead. "Sit down, folks. Nick, right up here beside me. I'm going to show you what to do... and when to do it."
"One second, please," Laurel said. She had regained some of her color and self-possession. She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Nick's mouth.
"Thank you," Nick said gravely.
"You were going to quit it. You'd made up your mind. And if he won't listen, I'm to remind him of the day you brought the daisies. Have I got it right?"
He grinned. "Letter-perfect, my love. Letter-perfect." He encircled her with his left arm and kissed her again, long and hard. When he let her go, there was a gentle, thoughtful smile on his mouth. "That's the one to go on," he said. "Right enough."
27
Three minutes later, Brian opened the intercom. "I'm starting to decrease pressure now. Check your belts everyone."
They did so. Albert waited tensely for some sound - the hiss of escaping air, perhaps - but there was only the steady, droning mumble of the jet engines. He felt more wide awake than ever.
"Albert?" Bethany said in a small, scared voice. "Would you hold me, please?"
"Yes," Albert said. "If you'll hold me."
Behind them, Rudy Warwick was telling his rosary again. Across the aisle, Laurel Stevenson gripped the arms of her seat. She could still feel the warm print of Nick Hopewell's lips on her mouth. She raised her head, looked at the overhead compartment, and began to take deep, slow breaths. She was waiting for the masks to fall... and ninety seconds or so later, they did.
Remember about the day in Belfast, too, she thought. Behind the church. An act of atonement, he said. An act...
In the middle of that thought, her mind drifted away.
28
"You know... what to do?" Brian asked again. He spoke in a dreamy, furry voice. Ahead of them, the time-rip was once more swelling in the cockpit windows, spreading across the sky. It was now lit with dawn, and a fantastic new array of colors coiled, swam, and then streamed away into its queer depths.
"I know," Nick said. He was standing beside Brian and his words were muffled by the oxygen mask he wore. Above the rubber seal, his eyes were calm and clear. "No fear, Brian. All's safe as houses. Off to sleep you go. Sweet dreams, and all that."
Brian was fading now. He could feel himself going... and yet he hung on, staring at the vast fault in the fabric of reality. It seemed to be swelling toward the cockpit windows, reaching for the plane. It's so beautiful, he thought. God, it's so beautiful!
He felt that invisible hand seize the plane and draw it forward again. No turning back this time.
"Nick," he said. It now took a tremendous effort to speak; he felt as if his mouth was a hundred miles away from his brain. He held his hand up. It seemed to stretch away from him at the end of a long taffy arm.
"Go to sleep," Nick said, taking his hand. "Don't fight it, unless you want to go with me. It won't be long now."
"I just wanted to say... thank you."
Nick smiled and gave Brian's hand a squeeze. "You're welcome, mate. It's been a flight to remember. Even without the movie and the free mimosas."
Brian looked back into the rip. A river of gorgeous colors flowed into it now. They spiralled... mixed... and seemed to form words before his dazed, wondering eyes:
SHOOTING STARS ONLY
"Is that... what we are?" he asked curiously, and now his voice came to