Days ago they had taken a night drive to the open desert to find a spot suitable for Stefan’s departure. They needed to know the exact geographical location in advance in order to do the calculations that would make it possible for him to return conveniently to them after his work in 1944 was done.
Stefan intended to open the valve on the Vexxon cylinder before he pushed the button on the gate-homing belt, so the nerve gas would be dispersing even as he returned through the gate to the institute, killing everyone who was in the lab at the 1944 end of the Lightning Road. Therefore he would be releasing a quantity of the toxin at his point of departure, too, and it seemed prudent to do so only in an isolated place. The street in front of the Gaines’s house was less than two hundred yards away, within Vexxon’s effective range, and they did not want to kill innocent bystanders.
Besides, though the gas was supposed to remain poisonous only for forty to sixty minutes, Laura was concerned that the deactivated residue, although not lethal, might have unknown, long-range toxic effects. She did not intend to leave any such substance in Thelma and Jason’s house.
The day was clear, blue, serene.
When they had driven only a couple of blocks and were descending into a hollow where the road was flanked by huge date palms, Laura thought she saw a strange pulse of light in the fragment of sky that was captured by her rearview mirror. What would lightning be like in a bright, cloudless sky? Not as dramatic as on a storm-clouded day, for it would be competing with the brightness of the sun. What it might look like in fact was the very thing she thought she had seen—a strange, brief pulse of brightness.
Though she braked, the Buick was into the bottom of the hollow, and she could no longer see the sky in the rearview mirror, just the hill behind them. She thought she heard a rumble, too, like distant thunder, but she could not be sure because of the roar of the car’s air conditioner. She pulled quickly to the side of the road, fumbling with the ventilation controls.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked as she put the car in park, threw open her door, and got out.
Stefan opened the rear door and got out too. “Laura?”
She was looking at the limited expanse of sky that she could see from the bottom of the hollow, using her flattened hand as a visor over her eyes. “You hear that, Stefan?”
In the warm, desert-dry day, a faraway rumble slowly died.
He said, “Could be jet noise.”
“No. The last time I thought it might be a jet, it was them.”
The sky pulsed again, one last time. She did not actually see the lightning itself, not the jagged bolt scored on the heavens, but just the reflection of it in the upper atmosphere, a faint wave of light flushing across the blue vault above.
“They’re here,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Somewhere on our way out to route 111, someone’s going to stop us, maybe a traffic cop, or maybe we’ll be in an accident, so there’ll be a public record, and then they’ll show up. Stefan, we’ve got to turn around, go back to the house.”
“It’s no use,” he said.
Chris had gotten out of the other side of the car. “He’s right, Mom. It doesn’t matter what we do. Those time travelers came here ’cause they’ve already peeked into the future and know where they’re gonna find us maybe half an hour from now, maybe ten minutes from now. It doesn’t matter if we go back to the house or go on ahead; they’ve already seen us someplace—maybe even back at the house. See, no matter how much we change our plans, we’ll cross their path.”
Destiny.
“Shit!” she said and kicked the side of the car, which didn’t do any good, didn’t even make her feel better. “I hale this. How can you hope to win against goddamn time travelers? It’s like playing blackjack when the dealer is God.”
No more lightning flared.