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Back Dark Stars Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. Part Two
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Three
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. Part Four
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. Part Five
  46. 39
  47. Acknowledgments
  48. About the Author
  49. Books by Danielle Rollins
  50. Back Ad
  51. About the Publisher

He was young, small, and running. He could feel the blood pumping through his chest and down into his legs, his lungs expanding and contracting beneath his ribs. The sun was hot on his shoulders, and, all around him, there was the swaying brown and yellow and green of corn. He was racing through the cornfields behind his parents’ house, and it was summer.

On days like this, he always felt like he could run forever. . . .

And then the memory changed: He was sixteen, and it was his first day at flight camp, and he was standing before a group of soldiers, all of them older than he was, scowling and confident. They made him nervous. He figured they must’ve grown up around planes instead of corn and dirt. He pictured them climbing into the cockpits of their jets like young princes mounting fine steads, coaxing them forward so easily he’d think the planes were living, breathing things. He felt shame climb his cheeks. They were all laughing at him, he knew, joking that he treated the fighter jets like they might bite. . . .

And, again, the memory changed. It was night now, and Ash was asleep, but a man had grabbed his arm, shaking him awake.

“My name is Professor Zacharias Walker,” the man said in a deep, vibrating whisper. “I’m a time traveler from the year 2075. If you’ll accompany me for a moment, I can show you my time machine.”

And again.

Ash was in a dirt clearing, surrounded by trees, the air filled with the sound of church bells. A girl stood in front of him, barefoot, wearing a wedding gown with a hem stained with mud. She was the most beautiful girl Ash had ever seen, with skin like porcelain, a small, rosebud-shaped mouth, and brown curls cascading around her shoulders.

The church bells stopped, and the girl forced her mouth into a practiced smile.

“Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me,” she said, tilting her head. “I appear to be lost.”

Ash felt his lips move. “Excuse me for saying so, miss, but it looks like you meant to get lost.”

The girl smothered a grin.

And then the images were fading, swirling and disappearing into purple and blue walls and distantly twinkling stars. . . .

23

Dorothy

JUNE 7, 1913