Dark Stars by Danielle Rollins (most read books of all time .txt) 📗

followed the dark jacket through the door and found herself in a stairwell. She could go up, or she could go down.

“Professor?” she shouted. Her voice echoed, and she thought she heard the sound of footsteps, someone running toward the roof. Heart pounding, she ran, holding her breath as she plowed up the stairs.

Each step she took shuddered through her, rattling her bones and making her knees ache. Eventually, she reached a heavy door. She pushed it open and stumbled outside.

Sunlight hit her full in the face. She shielded her eyes, squinting into the glow.

A man stood before her. He had dark brown skin and hair, and a black beard speckled with gray. He looked different from what Dorothy had been expecting, in his jacket and loose black T-shirt. Dorothy’s throat closed up. He looked just like Zora.

He was humming to himself, fumbling with something that appeared to be a small gun. Dorothy eyed the gun, wondering whether she should be worried. He didn’t seem dangerous, but . . . well, it occurred to her that he might be a little crazy. She’d read his journal. He might be more than a little crazy.

Then again, she’d come all this way. She cleared her throat.

The Professor looked up.

“Ah!” he said, brightening at the sight of her. Dorothy didn’t know whether it was her modern clothes or her white hair, but he seemed to know, instantly, that she wasn’t from this time period. “Have you come to fetch me, then?”

For some reason, his casual demeanor made Dorothy uneasy. It occurred to her that he didn’t have a clue what was happening in his own time. She didn’t particularly want to be the person to break it to him.

“Professor,” she said, taking a step forward. “Do you know who I am?”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in her tattered clothes, her white hair, and scarred face. “Are you a friend of my daughter’s?”

Dorothy’s lip twitched. “Uh, something like that,” she said, trying not to picture the look of horror that would surely cross Zora’s face if she were to learn that Dorothy had referred to the two of them as friends. “I was coming to see whether I could convince you to come with me.”

“Ah . . .” The Professor frowned, his nose twitching. “I see. It’s just . . . I was rather hoping I’d have a bit more time.”

“Professor, the future is a mess just now. The earthquakes are getting worse, and there’s a man trying to take over New Seattle, and time travel—”

She was cut off by the sound of footsteps. She turned, her heart hammering. “Blast. I must’ve been followed.”

“Actually, I think they’re after me,” the Professor said. He was looking down at his gun now, fumbling with something that Dorothy couldn’t see. “I really shouldn’t be here.” He looked up, eyebrows lifting above the frames of his glasses. “Then again, I doubt you’re supposed to be here, either.”

“Definitely not,” Dorothy admitted, glancing anxiously, over her shoulder. The footsteps were drawing closer. “How are we—”

“Ah, that.” The Professor lifted his gun. “I’ve been working on something special.”

“Time travel without a vessel,” Dorothy said, staring at the gun.

“Without a vessel, without an anil, without anything.” The Professor stroked the sides of his gun, his grin widening. “That’s why I’ve come back here, as a matter of fact. To see if I could arrange for a way to travel through time without causing the earthquakes. I do believe I’ve done it. One shot of this, and we can vanish anywhere in history without remotely disturbing the structure of the tectonic plates.”

Dorothy cast one last glance at the door behind her. She didn’t exactly have time for second thoughts. She could either trust the Professor, or face whatever was about to come through that door.

Swallowing, she asked, “Does that need to be injected into my aorta as well?”

“Oh, no, dear, any arm will do.” He looked at her now, holding out the gun. “May I?”

She nervously offered the old man her arm.

Here goes nothing, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

It was like getting pricked with a needle, just a quick jab, a flicker of pain, and then nothing. Dorothy opened her eyes in time to see white light swirl beneath her skin and then vanish.

“Oh my,” she said, amazed.

The door burst open and soldiers spilled onto the roof, surrounding them.

“Ah. Well, then.” The Professor pushed his glasses up on his nose with one finger. “I suppose we are a bit later than I intended. Best make this quick.” He aimed the gun at his own arm and pulled the trigger again, cringing a little. “Time to go,” he said to Dorothy.

Dorothy was confused. “Go?”

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.

28Ash

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