“Get out!” Viktor yelled to them, but no one followed or even acknowledged him. In this building, like many others, neighbors rarely talked, and all were strangers to each other.

Viktor kicked open the downstairs doors and rushed into the freezing street, not stopping until they were on the opposite sidewalk. He checked his brood were all with him, and put an arm around Alina. Only then did he look back.

The building shimmied, rose a couple of feet, and then, staggeringly, dropped into the ground as though on a fast elevator. It didn’t fall and then stop, crumble, or even collapse. It simply went down, and kept going down.

Viktor could hear the crushing grind of earth and brick as the three-story edifice disappeared into a massive black void. There was silence for a minute or two. Then the screams came.

Chapter 3

Matt Kearns pushed long hair back off his face, and then ran across Massachusetts Avenue towards the Qdoba Mexican Grill. He kept a hand over his leather satchel on one shoulder and pushed open the small door, inhaling the scent of chilli, spices, and roasting meat.

“O-ooh, yeah.”

His interview with the board in at the Harvard Lamont Library had gone well – very well – and he expected an offer to come through within the week. After all, he was still one of the top paleolinguists in the world, had an understanding of more ancient languages than anyone else in the USA, and was witty and charming – Why shouldn’t they love me? he thought, and grinned, as he was shown to a table.

He snatched a copy of that day’s newspaper from the rack and slid into the booth. If he got the job, he’d start teaching a basic languages class at the Resource Center. Low down the ladder, but he’d be home, and that was all that mattered. Besides, he was sure he could climb back to full tenure quickly.

He waved to a pretty waitress and she nodded in return, and then made a beeline toward him. He looked around – the diner was near empty, save for a few foreign students, a large family eating without talking or even making eye contact with each other, and a solitary coffee drinker.

Matt lifted the satchel over his head, leaning it on the seat beside him as the waitress stopped.

“Welcome to Qdoba Mexican Grill. My name is Andrea. We have specials today that–”

“I know.” Matt smiled. “It’s all good, Andrea.” He smiled, sweeping his hair back again. She nodded, and her eyes lingered just a few seconds longer than was necessary, before flicking away.

He smiled. Still got it, he thought, as he looked down the menu quickly, already knowing what he wanted: chicken quesadilla – one enormous corn tortilla filled with spicy chicken, bell peppers and melted cheese, then folded in half and lightly toasted – heaven on a plate. He used to have them once a week when he worked here three years earlier…and he planned on resuming the same delightful habit now he had returned.