and Dorothy found herself remembering a conversation they’d had long ago. She’d asked Roman why he’d betrayed Ash and the Professor and everyone else, and he’d responded, “I’m afraid we haven’t been acquainted long enough for that story. . . . Maybe one day, I’ll let you in on all my secrets.”
That had been a year ago now. Roman knew all of Dorothy’s secrets and, yet, his were elusive as ever. Dorothy knew that Roman didn’t display emotions easily. Always, his feelings were buried beneath a sly smile or a sharp joke so that she was constantly wondering what he really thought, why he guarded himself so closely.
She stared at him for a moment longer, the question already on her tongue. What happened to you? What haven’t you told me?
But darkness fell over the ship before she could ask it, and they were inside the anil and it seemed, once again, like an opportunity had passed.
NOVEMBER 29, 2073, SEATTLE
When they exited the anil, they were in a strange, new world.
Well, strange to Dorothy, at least. This Seattle hadn’t been flooded. The trees were monstrous and leafy green, not white and dead. Buildings towered into the sky, nearly blocking out the sun, and they huddled so close together that Dorothy had a hard time imagining how cars made their way between them—
That is, until they descended below the cloud cover, flying the Black Crow low enough for Dorothy to actually see the cars zooming down narrow streets, before disappearing farther into the concrete jungle.
Extraordinary, she thought, leaning close to the window as they flew over it all, their time machine hidden by the day’s heavy fog. Electronic billboards flashed dizzily in the gray, and the huge concrete arc that Dorothy had seen in New Seattle—highway, it was called—was now loaded with cars and trucks and motorcycles.
In just two short years it will all be destroyed.
Something sour hit Dorothy’s throat. She leaned back in her seat, looking away from the window. Many people wouldn’t even have to wait two years. The first earthquake would hit the next day. She’d heard about this earthquake before but, for the first time, it felt real.
People were going to die. Half the city would lose their homes and have to move into tents. The power in entire neighborhoods would be knocked out and never recovered; hospitals would be overrun; children would go without food and water.
She felt suddenly sick.
Roman glanced at her sideways, seeming to read her thoughts. “It was four years ago.”
His voice was strange, and Dorothy bristled, thinking he meant to scold her for getting emotional over something that had already happened, something they couldn’t change. “I know that—”
“No,” Roman cut her off. “I meant that it really wasn’t that long ago, when you think about it.”
There was a brief silence, and then Roman said, “Black Crow preparing for landing.” He switched a button on the control panel and pulled down the yoke.
They began to descend.
18
Ash
NOVEMBER 7, 2077, NEW SEATTLE
A tremor moved through the city as the Black Crow disappeared into the anil.
Ash tightened his hands around his coat, shivering in the early morning fog. He and Zora had gathered on the docks to watch, along with a few hundred others, some holding soggy signs, the paint bleeding in the damp. Some were even chanting.
“The past is our right! The past is our right!”
Ash felt fidgety, all too aware of the eyes in the crowd. He saw a man standing a few feet away, staring, head cocked like he was trying to work out how he knew him. Ash turned away, pulling his collar up to hide his face.
He’d been hoping for some sign of Dorothy, but she hadn’t left the time machine, hadn’t even stuck a hand out the window to wave at her adoring fans.
This feeling—the sudden hope followed by crushing disappointment—was so great that his hands curled into fists. He glanced at Zora and saw that her eyes were glued to the swirling mess of colors churning in the middle of the sea. The skin between her brows creased as she reached for his arm.
“Does it always do that?” she asked.
Ash focused on releasing the tension in his hands. “Do what?”
“That tremor—”
Before he could answer, the anil lit up. It was no single color, but all colors, shifting and unknowable. The ground below them began to shake.
The Black Crow was returning.
19
Dorothy
NOVEMBER 29, 2073, SEATTLE
Dorothy hadn’t spent a month planning this con. It’d been easy. All they’d needed were a few props.