from the Dark Star, and the Black Crow is a smaller ship, so it’s possible that it hasn’t been doing quite as much damage.”
“The size of the ship matters?” Ash asked.
Zora nodded. “Think of a smaller ship like a smaller cog on the tower. The smaller the cog, the less likely it’ll cause the tower to fall over, right? But every cog, no matter the size, makes the tower less stable. It’s the same with the anil. It’s still dangerous, but there’s no way of knowing how dangerous. . . .”
“They leave at dawn,” Ash said.
Zora fumbled with the watch at her wrist. “That’s not for— Oh, shit.”
Ash was already pulling his jacket off the back of his chair. “If we go now, we might still be able to stop them.”
29
Dorothy
NOVEMBER 8, 2077, NEW SEATTLE
It was early, and the Fairmont garage was cool and dark, only the thinnest glimmer of silver light making its way through the dirty glass. Dorothy stood beside a window, fingers twisting in the folds of her coat.
She closed her eyes, breathing as nausea rolled through her. She imagined she could hear the sounds of the crowd past the roar of wind and waves crashing into the concrete walls. She could picture them clapping and stomping their feet as they waited for her and Roman to fly over their heads, and the image was so clear that she could almost feel the vibration spreading through the concrete floor of the garage and trembling up her legs.
It left her on edge. She and Roman were supposed to be going back in time for medical equipment to help the city’s sick and downtrodden. But what was the point of saving this city if it was only going to be destroyed again?
“You look like death,” Roman said, coming up behind her. “Didn’t you sleep?”
Dorothy looked at him, taking in the green cast to his skin, the firm press of his lips. “Did you?”
“Well enough,” Roman said, voice falsely cheerful.
Lie, Dorothy thought, bitter. When had they started lying to each other?
She fixed a stiff smile on her face. “Well then, so did I.”
Another lie. She hadn’t slept at all. She’d sat at the edge of her bed, watching the window and waiting for morning. And, all the while, a cold dread built inside of her.
Butterfly effect, Roman had said. One single moment had the power to change the course of humanity. Why weren’t they trying to figure out what it was? Even if it was a fool’s mission, it seemed to her that they should at least try.
She felt numb as she followed Roman into the Black Crow and settled into the passenger seat beside him, fingers moving woodenly over her seat belt.
She thought of the Fairmont’s black walls and broken windows.
“The Black Crow is moving into position for departure,” Roman said. Dorothy curled her hands into fists.
A moment later, the time machine rumbled to life below them.
30
Ash
Ash crouched at the front of the rickety motorboat, his heart beating in his throat. He leaned forward, as though he could make the boat travel faster through sheer force of will. Sheets of water crashed over him, soaking his shirt, slapping into his face.
He had eyes only for the swirling tunnel in the distance. The anil.
The Black Crow was already there, a blight on the landscape; a dark, black smudge in the early-morning light. Ash gritted his teeth.
He turned and shouted over his shoulder, “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
“It’s a boat, not a plane,” Zora called back. “Now will you sit?”
Ash turned his back to her, ignoring this. His throat felt raw, and nerves thrummed through him, seeming to make his whole body vibrate. He pressed the heels of his hands into the side of the boat.
“Come on,” he murmured. He hadn’t prayed in years, but he felt like doing it now, like offering up this fierce hope to anyone who might be listening.
They were still yards away from the anil when the Black Crow began to hover.
“No,” said Ash, his voice hushed. Everything inside of him seemed to tense.
The time machine moved forward, into position.
Ash felt his blood boil beneath his skin.
No.
He saw Dorothy’s face the way it’d looked during their last meeting, behind the Dead Rabbit. Hair wet and plastered to her skin, fingers anxiously fumbling with her locket.
It isn’t possible to travel through time without a vessel. . . .
Yes, but the Professor went on experimenting with it, to see whether he could find a way.