Dorothy opened her mouth. How to explain? If she didn’t do this, Mac would find Ash again. He would dig the EM out of his body. He would use time travel over and over and over again, not caring that it would turn the rest of the world to dust. This was the only way. The outcome couldn’t be changed.

Dorothy curled her fingers around Roman’s dagger. “Of course it does,” she said.

Unless, she thought.

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way to accomplish that that doesn’t, quite literally, involve knives and stabbing.

Dorothy hesitated, thinking. An idea was occurring to her. The outcome couldn’t be changed, but everything leading up to it could be.

Was it an idea? Yes, yes it was. Her actions could change. She could do this differently.

Headlights glimmered in the darkness. Every nerve in Dorothy’s body sparked. She heard distant voices, followed by a series of sharp cracks.

Gunshots.

She turned back to Ash. The Freaks were circling closer. Soon, they would be spotted. If she was going to attempt to do this crazy thing, she would need to do it now.

She pulled Roman’s dagger loose. Ash’s eyes followed the movement, something flashing through them. Not fear; disappointment.

“Dorothy—”

She leaned forward, gripping his shoulder. Ash brought his eyes up to hers, frowning.

“Do you trust me?” she asked urgently.

A look of confusion clouded Ash’s face. “What? I don’t—”

“Close enough.” She plunged the dagger into his abdomen, just below his ribs, where she knew the exotic matter was lodged. She didn’t stop until she felt the tip of the blade catch.

I would, essentially, need to use a piece of copper to connect the person with the electronic matter inside their body.

Something sparked—sending energy up her arm. Please work, she thought, and pulled Ash close, her blade still connected with that tiny piece of exotic matter. She dragged both of them over the side of the boat and into the black water below.

The anil swirled angrily, pulling them into its center.

Part Three

“Yeah, but what if you went back and killed your own grandfather?”

He stared at me, baffled. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

—Stephen King, 11/22/63

20

Ash

Heat and pain.

The pain was worse than the heat; it reminded Ash of waves. It would crash into him, over him, and then he’d be sinking.

Down

and down

and down . . .

And, just when he thought he could take no more, the pain would ease, just a little, just enough for him to hear her voice.

“Ash? Ash, can you hear me? Open your eyes . . .”

Dorothy. He opened his mouth and tried to force words out through his lips, but then the pain hit, and it all started over again.

Was this what dying felt like?

He didn’t know.

He’d never died before.

21

Dorothy

JUNE 7, 1913

Smoke and spinning. Flashing lights.