They exited the anil into a world of perfect dark. There were no stars to illuminate the ghostly white tree trunks, no distant oil lamps flickering through the black like fireflies, no far-off buzz of electricity, no moon. It was as though someone had painted the outsides of the Black Crow’s windows black, leaving only the faint green of the control panel.
Dorothy could just make out the silhouette of Roman’s face in the eerie glow. His lips were drawn in a tight line, the muscles in his jaw tense.
“I thought we were going to land in the afternoon,” she said, and Roman looked at her, and then away.
“Local time is 3:02 p.m.,” he said.
Then, hesitating, he added, “The sun’s been blocked by volcanic ash.”
“What?” Dorothy was quiet as the horror of this washed over her. There was no sun? Her hands grew clammy.
How could all this happen in just five years?
It felt like surfacing from deep water to find the world on fire. For just an instant, she wanted to turn around, go home, pretend she’d never seen this.
Mac’s voice came from behind them. “This ship still has light, doesn’t it?”
Roman said nothing but flipped on the time machine’s headlights. A steady, white beam cut through the darkness like a knife, splitting the world in two.
Bits of black dust hung in the air before the ship’s headlights, giving the world the appearance of a television set that couldn’t quite focus. Through the dust, Dorothy saw that the sky above their time machine was dark as oil, and starless, mirrored in the waters below so that she couldn’t tell where one bled into the other. She scanned the horizon for a city. But there was no city. Instead, a single jagged structure rose from the waters, covered in layers of craggy black rock and ash.
Dorothy’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the structure, something tugging on her memory. It seemed to have been a building once, but it didn’t look like one anymore. The Black Crow’s headlights bounced off the bits of broken glass still clinging to its windowsills, brick walls covered in thick layers of ash. It didn’t have a roof, and a huge gaping hole had opened up in the middle of its walls, looking for all the world like an open mouth.
Still, though, there was something familiar about the columns out front, the position of the windows . . .
Oh God. Dorothy pressed her mouth so firmly closed that she could feel the imprints of her teeth against the backs of her lips. She suddenly realized what she was looking at.
It was the Fairmont. In just five years, it would go from the most sought-after hotel in the city, to this ruin of burnt bricks and broken glass.
“Check out your castle, princess,” Mac said, chuckling beneath his breath. “Doesn’t look so impressive now, does it?” He leaned forward in his seat and tapped his window with one finger. Dorothy had the impression of a child shaking a snow globe.
This world will not change if you shake it, she wanted to snarl.
“I guess it seems a little silly that we were all fighting over that.” Mac’s lip curled as he turned to her, grinning. Disgusted, Dorothy looked away.
Mac might think of the Fairmont as nothing more than a prize. But she’d lived in that old hotel for a year now, and it was the closest thing to a home that she’d ever known.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw her hands over her eyes and demand that Roman turn off the headlights. She wanted to unsee everything that lay before her, even as she knew it was impossible.
She would remember this forever. She would see the imprint of it on her eyelids every night as she tried to fall asleep. The blackened, broken-down Fairmont would be the last image that haunted her on her dying day.
“Remember,” Roman said. “This is just one possible future. It’s not definite.”
“What the hell happened to make it look like this?” asked Mac.
“We . . . don’t know for sure.” Roman seemed to weigh his words carefully before adding, “Before I left the Chronology Protection Agency, the Professor was theorizing that another earthquake could hit the city in the next five to ten years. Possibly more than one earthquake. He thought that the movement of tectonic plates might be so great that they would set off a wave of volcanic activity.”
Dorothy turned to him, frowning. “An earthquake can cause a volcano