God had not taken it back.
Laurel kissed the still slope of Dinah’s cheek and then raised her hand to the little girl’s face. Her fingers stopped only an inch from her eyelids.
I saw through Mr Toomy’s eyes. Everything was beautiful … even the things that were dead. It was so wonderful to see. ‘Yes,’ Laurel said. ‘I can live with that.’ She left Dinah’s eyes open.
10
American Pride 29 flew west through the days and nights, going from light to darkness and light to darkness as if flying through a great, lazily shifting parade of fat clouds. Each cycle came slightly faster than the one before.
A little over three hours into the flight, the clouds below them ceased, and over exactly the same spot where they had begun on the flight east. Brian was willing to bet the front had not moved so much as a single foot.
The Great Plains lay below them in a silent roan-colored expanse of land.
‘No sign of them over here,’ Rudy Warwick said. He did not have to specify what he was talking about.
‘No,’ Bob Jenkins agreed. ‘We seem to have outrun them, either in space or in time.’
‘Or in both,’ Albert put in.
‘Yes – or both.’
But they had not. As Flight 29 crossed the Rockies, they began to see the black lines below them again, thin as threads from this height. They shot up and down the rough, slabbed slopes and drew not-quite-meaningless patterns in the blue-gray carpet of trees. Nick stood at the forward door, looking out of the bullet porthole set into it. This porthole had a queer magnifying effect, and he soon discovered he could see better than he really wanted to. As he watched, two of the black lines split, raced round a jagged, snow-tipped peak, met on the far side, crossed, and raced down the other slope in diverging directions. Behind them the entire top of the mountain fell into itself, leaving something which looked like a volcano with a vast dead caldera at its truncated top.
‘Jumping Jiminy Jesus,’ Nick muttered, and passed a quivering hand over his brow.
As they crossed the Western Slope toward Utah, the dark began to come down again. The setting sun threw an orange-red glare over a fragmented hellscape that none of them could look at for long; one by one, they followed Bethany’s example and pulled their windowshades. Nick went back to his seat on unsteady legs and dropped his forehead into one cold, clutching hand. After a moment or two he turned toward Laurel and she took him wordlessly in her arms.
Brian was forced to look at it. There were no shades in the cockpit.
Western Colorado and eastern Utah fell into the pit of eternity piece by jagged piece below him and ahead of him. Mountains, buttes, mesas, and cols one by one ceased to exist as the crisscrossing langoliers cut them adrift from the rotting fabric of this dead past, cut them loose and sent them tumbling into sunless endless gulfs of forever. There was no sound up here, and somehow that was the most horrible thing of all.
The land below them disappeared as silently as dust-motes.
Then darkness came like an act of mercy and for a little while he could concentrate on the stars. He clung to them with the fierceness of panic, the only real things left in this horrible world: Orion the hunter; Pegasus, the great shimmering horse of midnight; Cassiopeia in her starry chair.
11
Half an hour later the sun rose again, and Brian felt his sanity give a deep shudder and slide closer to the edge of its own abyss. The world below was gone; utterly and finally gone. The deepening blue sky was a dome over a cyclopean ocean of deepest, purest ebony.
The world had been torn from beneath Flight 29.
Bethany’s thought had also crossed Brian’s mind; if push came to shove, if worse came to worst, he had thought, he could put the 767 into a dive and crash them into a mountain, ending it for good and all. But now there were no mountains to crash into.
Now there was no earth to crash into.
What will happen to us if we can’t find the rip again? he wondered. What will happen if we run out of fuel?
Don’t try to tell me we’ll crash, because I simply don’t believe it – you can’t crash into nothing. I think we’ll simply fall . . . and fall … and fall. For how long? And how far? How far can you fall into nothing?
Don’t think about it.
But how, exactly, did one do that? How did one refuse to think about nothing?
He turned deliberately back to his sheet of calculations. He worked on them, referring frequently to the INS
readout, until the light had begun to fade out of the sky again. He now put the elapsed time between sunrise and sunset at about twenty-eight minutes.
He reached for the switch that controlled the cabin intercom and opened the circuit.
‘Nick? Can you come up front?’
Nick appeared in the cockpit doorway less than thirty seconds later.
‘Have they got their shades pulled back there?’ Brian asked him before he could come all the way in.
‘You better believe it,’ Nick said.
‘Very wise of them. I’m going to ask you not to look down yet, if you can help it. I’ll want you to look out in a few minutes, and once you look out I don’t suppose you’ll be able to help looking down, but I advise you to put it off as long as possible. It’s not … very nice.’
‘Gone, is it?’
‘Yes. Everything.’
‘The little girl is gone, too. Dinah. Laurel was with her at the end. She’s taking it very well. She liked that girl. So did I.’
Brian nodded. He was not surprised – the girl’s wound was the sort that demanded immediate treatment in an emergency room, and even then the prognosis would undoubtedly be cloudy – but it still rolled a stone against his heart. He had also liked Dinah, and he believed what Laurel believed – that the girl was somehow more responsible for their continued survival than anyone else. She had done something to Mr Toomy, had used him in some strange way … and Brian had an idea that, somewhere inside, Toomy would not have minded being used in such a fashion. So, if her death was an omen, it was one of the worst sort.
‘She never got her operation,’ he said.
‘No.’
‘But Laurel is okay?’
‘More or less.’
‘You like her, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Nick said. ‘I have mates who would laugh at that, but I do like her. She’s a bit dewy-eyed, but she’s got grit.’
Brian nodded. ‘Well, if we get back, I wish you the best of luck.’
‘Thanks.’ Nick sat down in the co-pilot’s seat again. ‘I’ve been thinking about the question you asked me before. About what I’ll do when and if we get out of this mess … besides taking the lovely Laurel to dinner, that is. I suppose I might end up going after Mr O’Banion after all. As I see it, he’s not all that much different from our friend Toomy.’
‘Dinah asked you to spare Mr Toomy,’ Brian pointed out. ‘Maybe that’s something you should add into the equation.’
Nick nodded. He did this as if his head had grown too heavy for his neck. ‘Maybe it is.’
‘Listen, Nick. I called you up front because if Bob’s time-rip actually exists, we’ve got to be getting close to the place where we went through it. We’re going to man the crow’s nest together, you and I. You take the starboard side and right center; I’ll take port and left center. If you see anything that looks like a time-rip, sing out.’
Nick gazed at Brian with wide, innocent eyes. ‘Are we looking for a thingumabob-type time-rip, or do you think it’ll be one of the more or less fuckadelic variety, mate?’
‘Very funny.’ Brian felt a grin touch his lips in spite of himself. ‘I don’t have the slightest idea what it’s going to look like, or even if we’ll be able to see it at all. If we can’t, we’re going to be in a hell of a jam if it’s drifted to one side, or if its altitude has changed. Finding a needle in a haystack would be child’s play in comparison.’
‘What about radar?’
Brian pointed to the RCA/TL color radar monitor. ‘Nothing, as you can see. But that’s not surprising. If the original crew had acquired the damned thing on radar, they never would have gone through it in the first place.’
‘They wouldn’t have gone through it if they’d seen it, either,’ Nick pointed out gloomily.
‘That’s not necessarily true. They might have seen it too late to avoid it. Jetliners move fast, and airplane crews don’t spend the entire flight searching the sky for bogies. They don’t have to; that’s what ground control is for. Thirty or thirty-five minutes into the flight, the crew’s major outbound tasks are completed.