glanced at the door, his knee jumping below the table. Could he go to her now? Would she see him?
“What did you think of that tremor?” Zora had a glass of water sitting in front of her, and she was absently tracing the lip with one finger.
Ash blinked, refocusing his attention on her. “Tremor?”
“There was a tremor when the Black Crow entered the anil, and another one when they returned.” Zora frowned. “You didn’t notice?”
“There are always tremors,” Ash said. “There was one when Chandie and I were coming back from Mac’s the other day.”
“Nearly drowned us,” Chandra added, slurping.
Willis had another cocktail napkin in front of him, and he was folding it into something that had fins. He lifted his eyes. “Did you think it was something else?”
“No. Ugh, I don’t know.” Zora took a pencil out from behind her ear and tapped it against her bottom lip. “It just seemed weird to me.”
Ash felt guilt twist through his gut. This was what he should be thinking about. Tremors and earthquakes and saving the world. Not Dorothy’s lips. Heat shot up the backs of his ears. What was wrong with him?
“Another?” Willis asked, nodding at his now-empty glass.
Ash dropped his eyes to his textbook. The numbers looked like gibberish, but he doubted another drink was going to get him any closer to understanding what they meant.
He was feeling restless. He needed a change of scenery. He needed to go somewhere that didn’t remind him of Dorothy.
He pushed back his chair, tucking the textbook under his arm. “I’m going to take a walk,” he told his friends. “Clear my head. I’ll see you all back at the school.”
21
Dorothy
NOVEMBER 7, 2077, NEW SEATTLE
“Friends, do not attempt to adjust your television,” Dorothy said, blinking into the glare of spotlights in the Fairmont basement. “Our broadcast has taken over every channel.
“I’m happy to announce that our trip back in time was successful. We returned early this morning with two hundred and forty solar panels, all in working order. That’s enough to power all of downtown Seattle, more electricity than our city has seen since before the mega-quake.”
Dorothy paused, eyes flicking to the darkness beyond the spotlights. She thought she’d heard a door open. Footsteps. And was that Roman’s voice, murmuring to someone she couldn’t see?
Her hands felt suddenly clammy. “Th-this is only the beginning,” she continued, faltering. The broadcast was live; she couldn’t just stop. “Those of you who lived through the devastation of the earthquakes will remember that the hospitals were looted back in 2074, and important medications were stolen. Many people died, not because of the earthquake itself, but because of lack of access to medication and medical attention. Many people are dying, still.
“Tomorrow, at dawn, we will go back in time again. We will return to the day the hospitals were looted, and take the medication before it can be stolen. And then we will bring it back here. For you.”
A small burst of static, and the broadcast was over.
“Marvelous, as always,” Roman said, but his voice sounded stilted.
Dorothy shielded her eyes, squinting past the spotlights. “Is someone else here?”
She could make out black shapes moving behind the recording equipment, the squeak of shoes on concrete.
No, not shoes—crutches.
And, then, the sound of soft, slow clapping.
“Bravo,” Mac called out, hobbling into the light. He was wearing the same ill-fitting suit he’d had on the night before, though it was quite a bit dirtier now than it’d been then. The bandage at his thigh was fresh and no longer bloodstained.
“You were watching?” Dorothy asked, standing. She didn’t like the idea of Mac in the darkness just beyond her spotlights, watching her when she didn’t know he was there. There wasn’t a single other person in this city who’d have come to the Fairmont without invitation.
“The whole city was watching,” Mac said. “The two of you are heroes.” He said the word heroes lightly enough, but there was something unpleasant threaded through his voice. Dorothy suppressed a shudder.
“But I didn’t come here tonight just to catch the show.” Mac readjusted the crutches beneath his arms. “I got something to show you. Come on.”
He started hobbling toward the door.
Dorothy glanced at Roman, frowning, and Roman shook his head. He didn’t know what Mac was up to, either. That didn’t bode well.
“Well, come on,” Mac said, hesitating at the door. “It’s a gift. It ain’t going to bite you.”
Dorothy chewed her lower lip. Gifts were manipulative. They nearly always came with strings attached.