Instead of answering, the Professor wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her over the side of the roof.

Bullets filled the air around them. People shouted. Dorothy saw the ground rushing toward her face, trees and sky blurring as they fell faster and faster—

And then, like a blink, they vanished.

28

Ash

JUNE 12, 1913

Ash was sure he was dreaming again.

The pain was there, and everything was all swimmy and blurry, like he was just waking up. He’d been lying on his side in bed, staring out the window at Seattle circa 1913, and trying to keep himself from falling asleep.

It hadn’t been easy. They sky was full and gray and heavy with clouds. It seemed to hang very low, and Ash had the feeling that if he opened his window and reached outside, he’d be able to touch the clouds themselves. He remembered wondering if they’d be soft, like cotton, or if they’d be wet . . .

And that must’ve been when he’d drifted off. Because, the longer he watched, the darker those clouds became. At first the change was so gradual that he hadn’t even registered it. It was like watching paint darken as it dried, the change so subtle that it’s only noticeable after, when one compares the mental images.

Ash watched the darkening clouds and, when they were near black, he realized, dimly, that a storm must be coming. But—it was the strangest thing—see, the storm only seemed to be brewing in this one, very specific part of the sky. If he turned his head either to the left, or to the right, the clouds were still light and fluffy.

Weird, he thought. He’d seen a lot of storms in his time, but he’d never known them to act like this.

His eyelids were growing heavy. Lightning flashed, and he thought he felt thunder rumble through the earth, the vibration moving up his bed. His pillow was so soft. . . .

And then, smoke appeared. He smelled it before he saw it, that acrid, engine smell leaking through the glass in his windows. His eyes fluttered back open at the exact same moment that the shapes of two people appeared in the clouds. Ash watched, drearily, certain he was dreaming as the people fell to the earth, their bodies thudding into flattened grass. For a moment, they were still. Ash wondered whether they were dead. They hadn’t fallen a long way, but it had certainly looked painful.

He began to drift. He was stuck in that halfway point between sleep and waking. He wasn’t entirely sure whether his eyes were open, and everything felt so heavy, so warm.