seen the future? she remembered asking him, back when they first met.
Perhaps, he’d answered. Perhaps I’ve even seen yours.
A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She could feel the sobs rising in her chest and, for a moment, she considered letting herself break down. It would be such a relief, to cry. But she only blinked, hard, and focused on her hands clenched, tightly, in her lap.
There were guards outside her door, at least three of them, she thought, from the sound of their voices. She’d told them she needed something from Roman’s room, and so they were giving her a few moments to gather whatever it was before they dragged her off to find Ash.
But she’d lied to them. There wasn’t anything here that she needed. She only wanted to say goodbye, and now she had, so it was time to go.
She looked around the room for something she could pretend she’d come here for and found her eyes drawn to Roman’s bedside table. The top drawer was cracked, and something glinted from within.
Leaning over, Dorothy inched the drawer open further and found a dagger.
Her breath caught. She’d left her own daggers in the future, with Roman’s body, but they’d been long, thin blades, designed to cause sharp pain and leave little trace.
This was different. It was heavier, for one thing. The blade was nearly as thick around as her wrist. Dorothy picked it up, focusing on its weight in her hand. It was meant to do damage, to cut through bone and flesh like it was butter.
Below the dagger, she saw a small, folded note, Roman’s handwriting staring up at her.
Breathless, she pulled it out.
Dearest Dorothy,
It’s funny, I was never quite sure when to tell you this. Or, perhaps I didn’t want to admit that it was finally time. That’s the problem with knowing when and how you are going to die, I suppose. You have months and months to set all your grand plans into motion, but when the time comes, it’s too hard to go through with any of it. Strange, how the knowing doesn’t make death any easier to face.
I should explain. Ever since you and I first traveled back in time, I’ve been haunted by memories of my own death. I know exactly how and approximately when it is going to happen.
We will go to the future. Ash and I will fight, and I will be shot. I will bleed to death in the ashes of our ruined world. My last memory will be of that black, sunless sky.
We planned to save the world together, you and I, and my one regret is that I will not be alive to see it happen. But you, Dorothy. You still have so much life ahead of you.
Use it well.
Roman
Dorothy closed her eyes and now the tears finally fell. It wasn’t the breakdown she’d been picturing, though. This felt more like she was gathering her strength.
She knew what she had to do.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and pushed herself to her feet, curling her fingers around Roman’s dagger. She didn’t think he’d meant to leave the dagger for her, but she decided to take it all the same. She had an idea of how she might use it to save the world, like they’d planned.
It was time.
56
Ash
NOVEMBER 11, 2077, NEW SEATTLE
Ash stood in the small boat, easing his weight from leg to leg to keep his balance. Black water lapped at the sides, sending the boat rocking, but Ash moved, easily, with the motion. He’d grown used to the water over the years.
Trees seemed to glow in the darkness around him. Ghost trees. Dead trees. Water pressed against their hollow, white trunks, moving with the wind.
Ash counted ripples to pass the time while he waited. Seven. Twelve. Twenty-three. He lost track and was about to start again when her light appeared in the distant black. It was small, like the single headlight of a motorcycle, followed by the rumbling sound of an engine. He stood straighter. Part of him hadn’t expected her to come. But of course she would. She always did.
Leave now, he told himself. There was still time. He felt sure that she wouldn’t come after him if he left before she got here. He knew how this night would end if he stayed. He’d seen this exact moment a dozen times. A hundred, if he counted dreams. But he stayed still, his hand clenching and