Chapters (51)
Roman tried to speak. “Where . . . where . . .” His voice wasn’t working like it was supposed to. The inside of his mouth tasted strange. Stale. Like he hadn’t brushed his teeth for a very long time. And, damn he was thirsty. His tongue felt like straw.
He swallowed, trying to force saliva down his scratchy throat.
“You are in the lovely town of New Seattle, at a charming little bar called the Dead Rabbit,” the girl was telling him. “We found you here two days ago, bleeding from a bullet wound, of all things. Pop was the one who brought you back here and got you stitched up. Although, I have to be honest, he does have a bunch of questions for you. Gunshots aren’t super common around these parts, not in the last few years, at least.”
She crossed the room and yanked the curtains open, letting in a shock of bright, white light. “Why don’t you relax while I go find him. He’s the one whose been taking care of you, and I know he’ll be able to explain everything.”
Roman blinked, trying to make sense out of all the things she’d just said. He was in New Seattle? At the Dead Rabbit? And what did she mean, gunshots aren’t common?
The girl was almost to the door. Roman cleared his throat, trying again to use his voice. “What . . . what year is it?”
The mention of the year brought the girl’s chin up. She stared at Roman for a long moment, and then she said, very carefully, “It’s 2082. Why?”
Roman exhaled. He could feel his heart beating at his temples, see the blood pulsing through his lids.
The year 2082, he thought. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He was in the future, but not so far in the future that he couldn’t live something like a normal version of his life. And . . . well, things certainly seemed different from when he’d come here with Dorothy. No ashes and blocked-out sky. No city in ruins, at least as far as he could see from this bed.
They must’ve done something, he realized. Dorothy and Ash and the others. They must’ve changed things.
The thought brought a thin smile to his lips.
Good for them.
When Roman opened his eyes again, he saw that the girl was still at the door, staring at him.
“What is it?” he asked, frowning.
“It’s just . . . I was wondering if you were a”—she lowered her voice—“a time traveler?”
Roman felt himself go still. His heart was pounding in his ears, a slow, steady drumbeat. “Why would you ask that?”
Now the girl looked nervous. “It’s nothing,” she said in a rush. “It’s just that there are a bunch of people outside and . . . I thought they were crazy, but they said that they’re time travelers, too. They seem to think they’re friends of yours.”