Page 76 of No Place in Time

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would feel better.

But even as she thought it, she knew the truth.

Tomorrow she would feel worse.

39

FINN

1301

Finn held Cecily tight as the world tore apart around them.

The cave walls were moving. Cracking. They watched as fissures spread through stone like streaks of lightning. A chunk of stone ceiling fell away, then another, disappearing in a flash of light.

“Don’t look,” Finn said against her hair.

But he couldn’t close his eyes. The air grew frigid, then damp, then warm, the seasons washing over them in dizzying waves. He heard the ring of steel on stone, an echo that grew loud then faded in a heartbeat. The walls around them flickered, dissolving into light before solidifying again, chunks of rock vanishing with each pulse.

The machine ground to a stop.

Cecily gasped, gripping Finn’s arm. His stomach rolled, settling slowly. The world stopped spinning. They were crouching on solid ground again.

They both looked up. The cave was gone. Open sky stretched above them. Light streamed down. They sat in rubble with broken stones scattered everywhere, walls reduced to knee height. The cave’s ceiling had vanished completely.

“What happened?” Her voice came out hoarse.

Finn stood slowly, pulling her up with him. He turned in a circle, taking in the destruction.

“I don’t know.”

They picked their way through the debris. Cecily’s boot caught on something. She looked down. A broken pick with its handle splintered.

Finn bent down and ran his fingers over the stones. “Tool marks,” he said. “Someone demolished the cave deliberately.”

“Why would anyone—”

“To find us,” he said. “To find the machine after we disappeared.”

He was already moving toward the time machine, checking it over. He went very still and looked again, hoping he had misread it. His jaw set.

“What’s wrong?” Cecily asked.

He looked up at her. “The coordinates. I couldn’t see properly in the dark when I set them…”

“How far did we come?”

“A year.” He sat back on his heels. “Not the ten years we’d planned.”

Cecily stared at him. “Then let’s set it again. Now. Go forward the ten years.”

Finn shook his head, his hand hovering over the dials without touching them. The memory of Anton’s voice was sharp in his mind, a warning about pushing the machine too soon, about the risk of landing nowhere at all.

“We can’t,” he said, the words tight. “Your grandfather warned against rushing it. The next time, I need light, and quiet, and a clear head. We need to wait. At least a day.”

Cecily was quiet for a moment. She looked at the machine, then at him. “So we wait.”

“Yes,” he said. “We find shelter, we rest, we think. Then we set it properly and go.”