Timefall

By Alison Lohans

Two worlds are poised on the brink of collapse.

Katie, a single teen mom, lives with her baby, her mother, and her younger brother. Her friends have deserted her - and at school, bullies find insidious ways of getting to her. One hot summer day she's finally able to take a bike ride for some peace and quiet, away from the constant demands of caring for her fussy baby Tyler, her mother's expectations, and the noisy presence of her bratty brother. As she settles back on the creek bank to relax, she falls into another world....

A thousand years in the future, Iannik is last in a long line of Seers - but his Sight is flawed, and everyone fears his formidable psychic powers. His mentor is failing quickly. Does Iannik have the strength to summon the T'laaure, the long-promised infant from the doomed, distant past? The Child, according to the prophecies, is the only one who can save the future....

Is Katie's baby the one who holds all the answers?
Finalist, 2019 Prix Aurora Award, Young Adult Novel (first edition, 2018)

"Timefall faces climate apocalypse and teen parenting with an innocence that can't help but be engaging." Jayne B., author of the Maddie Hatter Adventures

"...fascinating, and disturbing, as the characters grapple with multiple challenges to their relationships and their world. The characters are multifaceted and complex, the conflicts are realistic, and solutions don't necessarily result in happily-ever-after endings. This is a YA book only because its characters are young adults; I also recommend it highly for adult readers." Cathy D., 5 stars

"Alison Lohans has masterfully woven a fantastical tale, both thought-provoking and mind-bending. An intense read!" Loretta P., 5 stars

"This excellent novel hooks you in from the first page, intertwining a future and a past story....The characters grapple, mostly courageously, with what they face, but are realistically drawn, and thus flawed, people [who] cling to what is good, and their love and good intentions for others. An interesting and well-written young adult book, which repays reading by adults as well." SFP, 5 stars

"A unique coming-of-age novel. Set in both pre- and post-apocalyptic times, three young people seek to find their place in their dying world. Another engaging read by Alison Lohans." Dianne Y., 5 stars

"Timefall hooks you on the first page and pulls you along, much the same way that Iannik looks into the deep blackness of time to bring the Child, teen mother Katie's nine-month-old son, to Aaurenan.... Award-winning author Lohans' writing is beautifully descriptive yet concise, so both worlds and both narrators, Katie and Iannik, come vividly to life. While blending science fiction and fantasy is challenging, Timefall succeeds at combining them both, as well as present and future." Aksomitis, 5 stars

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alison Lohans
• Release date: Aug 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777287122

Alison Lohans

Alison Lohans began making up stories when she was five, and knew at age nine that her calling was to be a writer. Born and raised in Reedley, California, she did her undergraduate work at Whittier College and California State University, Los Angeles. Soon afterwards, she immigrated to Canada in 1971 with her late husband. They spent five years in British Columbia (where her husband completed his Ph.D., and Alison earned her Postgraduate Diploma in Elementary Education while working as a pharmacy assistant). They then moved to Regina, Saskatchewan.Over the decades since Alison's first YA novel was published by Scholastic Canada in 1983, she has published 26 books for young people with Canadian and international presses. These books range from picture books, early chapter books, middle-grade novels, and on up to mature YA novels. Her YA novel This Land We Call Home (Pearson Education New Zealand, 2007) won the 2008 Saskatchewan Book Award for YA fiction, and many of her other books have been finalists for provincial, national, and international awards. Alison has done over a thousand readings of her works in schools and libraries across Canada, and still loves connecting with readers in this way.In addition to her books, Alison writes short fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction. For decades she longed to write contemporary romance, and finally gathered up the courage to give it a try. She has taught writing and mentored other writers; she's taught instrumental music; completed her M.Ed. degree; done a bit of editing; and served as Writer-in-Residence at Regina Public Library in 2002-03. She has also served on countless boards of arts groups at local, provincial and national levels. Alison was awarded the 2012 Regina YWCA Woman of Distinction Award for her contributions to the arts.Alison treasures her connections with her writing groups: the Children's Writers' Round Robin; the Saskatchewan Romance Writers; the Saskatchewan Writers' Guild; CANSCAIP; and The Writers' Union of Canada.For fun, she plays cello, cornet and recorder in community groups, has resumed piano lessons after a decades-long hiatus, and occasionally sings in choirs. International travel is very high on the list of things Alison loves doing - and in some instances, books have been sparked by visits to new places.Regina has been home to Alison since 1976, where she lives with her dog Sebastian and two finches.

Book preview

HOW TIMEFALL CAME TO BE

THIS BOOK was a very long time in the making. It all started with a vivid image that popped into my head and wouldn’t go away. A teen mom was holding her baby—and an odd guy wearing a robe wanted her child! That tantalizing idea glimmered in my mind for a lot of years. The only way to make any sense of it was to begin writing.

As the story began spooling itself out, it was unlike anything I’d written before. In elementary school I became intrigued with psychic phenomena after reading about ESP and learning that some twins had strong psychic connections. That fascination never went away. And, in some ways, I have to credit Laura Ingalls Wilder because when I was quite young, she planted the vastness of the prairies in my imagination. The only times I saw the horizon on land were during rare occasions of visiting cousins at their Oklahoma farm. It wasn’t until my adulthood that I moved to the Canadian prairies, where it was easily possible to experience the prairies. While writing this book, I took countless drives out of town in an ongoing search for what the prairies must have been like in pre-urban days. And I quickly discovered how hard it is to get away from all the noises that we routinely tune out. I would be listening to the birds chirping, the hum of insects, and the rustle—or swish—of the grasses as the wind touched them. And then a train or a truck would go by in the distance. Or a tiny speck of a jet would fly overhead, spilling out its contrails. And finally, I was fascinated by the possilities of using a baby as a character.

And so this fledgling novel kept growing. My friend Judith Silverthorne kept asking for more pages to read. The manuscript grew huge—700 pages when the first draft was done (fortunately Judith didn’t have to read all of them!) I was even imagining spin-off projects involving other characters. But first I had to begin marketing it, and 300 pages needed to be cut before I could send it out. During this lengthy revision process friends Sharon Plumb Hamilton and Anne Patton joined me in a critique group for our works-in-progress.

After the manuscript had bounced around the marketplace for a couple of years, to my delight Virginia O’Dine of Bundoran Press was excited to take it on. Virginia suggested breaking it down into two books. And so, Collapse of the Veil (2010) and Crossings (2012) were born. But publishers morph and sometimes change hands. In 2014, both books suddenly went out of print.

I was very fortunate to find a new publisher in Five Rivers Publishing, run by Lorina Stephens, where Dr. Robert Runté was editor. During two or so years of editing work, the two initial books were transformed back into one, under the title of Timefall. Robert’s keen-eyed editing brought new layers to the book, with close attention to character motivations, and updating the already-outdated technology. After its 2018 publication, Timefall was named one of the finalists for the 2019 Prix Aurora Awards in the Young Adult category—a true honour!

Then COVID-19 struck. The publisher suddenly could no longer manage the running of Five Rivers. And so, Timefall was orphaned once again, no longer available in print or ebook form.

But all was not lost. During the pandemic isolation, one of my writers’ groups, the Children’s Writers’ Round Robin, decided to take an online class on self-publishing ebooks, under the competent instruction of our fellow member Linda Aksomitis. The (not-quite-final) file for Timefall (2018) suffered catastrophic formatting changes as it was converted from a PDF, to rich text, then back to doc and, finally, docx. Cleaning up several hundred pages with formatting irregularities on almost every line was a monstrous challenge, and at times I battled with inserted notes and text boxes that simply wouldn’t go away. Enter Richard Hamilton, computer-brilliant son of Sharon Plumb. Together, Richard and Sharon found ways for me to work with the multiple dilemmas.

During the thirty-six years in which Timefall was written, re-written, edited, published, re-edited and re-published—and now edited once again—all of the people listed here, and others, travelled this road with me. During this final phase, talented graphic artist Sandra Norman has come aboard to create Timefall’s newest cover. My deepest thanks go out to all of you!

PROLOGUE

LONG ago when the human race swarmed like flies, a ravenous greed blackened the souls of the people, who gave little heed to the nurturing of the earth, nor even their own kind.

They spread great stone sheaths over the grasses; they ravaged the earth for its riches which they used without regard, giving back nothing but poisoned wastes which fouled the water they drank, and the air they breathed, and even the earth itself.

And thus came the Collapse of the Veil, which brought to an end this unspeakable way of living.

Prologue to the Lore of the T’laaure of Aaurenan.

And the Sight will dim, and the very Seed itself wither.

Aaurenan will suffer dire times, and will perish unless a Seer of lesser Powers gives all to summon the infant T’laaure from that poisoned time Before Collapse.

And the T’laaure himself shall also perish in those ancient days, should this Seer fail to summon sufficient strength to serve as the Bridge of Passage.

Prophecy of the Seer’s Stone, held by Erd’ris in his younger days.

PART ONE

Summer of the Grasshopper

ONE

HE WAS crying again.

Katie Nevill sucked in a sharp breath. It was tempting to do exactly what Tyler did, lie there squalling until someone took care of you. But Tyler was only nine months old and didn’t know any better.

It was a too-hot, too-dry summer, with dust blowing everywhere and grasshoppers taking over the earth, and Katie was sick of it. She was tired of being a mother, aged fifteen and a half. Of the extra weight gained during her pregnancy that just wouldn’t go away. Of generic hair that was no particular colour, and skin that only burned. Of not fitting in anymore. Worst of all was the loneliness, the aching emptiness.

At the moment, Tyler was in the playpen, wearing only a diaper. His face was red, his soft tummy prickly with rash.

You poor kid, she murmured, stroking the moist, fine hair back from his forehead.

Tyler’s blue eyes, so like Ryan’s, looked directly at her. Tears glistened on his cheeks, smudged in dust that had blown through the screens. Katie picked him up and wiped his face with her T-shirt. Tyler squirmed.

Katie? her mother called from the kitchen, where the computer keys shot staccato clicks into the air.

What? She went to see what Mona wanted.

Her mother glanced at her, still gripped in the thrall of the story she was writing. Resentment smouldered. Mona Carrington had rich auburn hair and green eyes, and elegant cheekbones in a slim face. Nothing no-name generic about her. Anytime they went places together, men watched her mother. It embarrassed Katie. After the divorce, Mona had quickly resumed her maiden name.

That man’s coming to start on the deck. Keys continued tapping. I have to email this, and then I’m going out for some groceries. If he comes when I’m not here, you’ll know what’s going on? Call me on my cell if.… Once again her mother was lost to her story.

Katie sighed. "Yes, Mother." She scowled at the wall calendar photo of turbulent storm clouds dwarfing a pale wheat field.

*You don’t need to treat me like I’m ten, Mom.* The thought burst out so strongly that she half-expected her mother to look up with a glare. According to Mona, if she was old enough to have a baby and keep him, she was old enough to be responsible. Also according to her mother: she never did anything right. Mona sacrificed precious work hours to babysit so Katie could stay in school. She was supposed to be grateful.

Is there any Kool-Aid? Her younger brother Corey tramped in, upper torso shiny with sweat. His legs and bare feet were caked with dust.

The keyboard kept clicking. I have no idea.

Corey hoisted himself onto the counter and rummaged through the cupboards. Can you—?

I have a deadline! Their mother’s voice snapped with the heat. I can’t do five things at once.

I know, I know. Corey scratched his head, loosing a cloud of dust; Katie watched it sift onto the burners of the stove. I found some, okay?

Fine. The keys churned up a fury.

Katie scowled at her nine-year-old brother. Corey shared her generic hair colour but had Mona’s fine bone structure.

Don’t lick the Kool-Aid. And wash your hands. Think we want to drink dirt?

Corey lifted his face from the foil packet, his tongue coated with purple granules. "Who says you’re getting any?"

In Katie’s arms, Tyler strained, grunting. A pungent diaper odour clotted the air. "Ewww!" Corey collapsed on the floor, choking dramatically.

Katie sighed and went upstairs with her baby. During the summer, Corey’s doctor took him off the medication for his ADHD. She wished it were winter, and suspected her mother did, too.

The bathroom was stifling. She spread the curtains wide, and removed Tyler’s repugnant diaper. At least you don’t talk back, she murmured, washing him, then massaging zinc ointment onto his heat-rashed bottom. She nudged her nose against his, and Tyler laughed out loud.

Katie danced him into the bedroom they shared. None of the kids knew this part of her life. They’d never felt the rush of love that could transform your whole awareness. Or the murky cloud of fatigue, from getting up night after night as crying penetrated your dreams. Having to be gentle even when you didn’t feel like it. Trying to understand a tiny person who couldn’t talk or reason.

Bitterness soured her gut. Ryan had never seen his own son, had done like birds in the fall as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Except the birds always came back.

He doesn’t deserve you, she said to Tyler as she opened a package of teething biscuits. One went into Tyler’s hand; three others were for herself. She kissed his plump cheek. C’mon, let’s go in the pool.

Munching biscuits, she smeared her baby with sunscreen and then pulled on her bathing suit, scowling at the way her stomach sagged. She’d die if anybody saw her. Having a baby made all the difference in the world. *I’m the same me!* she cried out to nobody. Just once it would be heaven to get back the freedom, that singing happiness that shot through you for no reason. Just being alive, and having all the time in the world….

Sunscreen! Mona called as Katie headed for the back door.

I did it, already. Her mother was like that—you’d think her story was all that mattered, but try and do anything? She tied the strings of Tyler’s white sun hat. C’mon, Tyler, she whispered. Let’s get out of this dump.

Heat shimmered off the Haywards’ garage roof next door. Balancing Tyler on her hip, she blinked in the glare. The hose was like a hot snake. She turned on the outdoor tap and jumped back from the scalding spurt. When it ran cool and delicious, she jammed her thumb across the opening and sprayed the wading pool. The yellow plastic sang as ever-present dust darkened and slid away. As the pool filled, she slipped in with Tyler, and held the hose between her toes. It gurgled in a sparkling fountain.

Tyler laughed and clapped his pudgy hands.

Katie leaned against the plastic rim. I NEEEED you, she sang from her favourite song. It’s a kinda special thing; and I LUUV you…. In the video, she’d practically died at Chase Wilder’s intense grey eyes….

Katie? Her mother was at the back door. I’m going. Keep an eye on Corey. Have you got your phone?

Yes, Mom. *Anything you say, Mother.* Corey wouldn’t stick around, and she could hardly cart Tyler all over the neighbourhood, trying to watch her brother. She glanced over at the heap of towels where she’d put her phone. No point in turning it on. Nobody texted her anymore except Mona, and the rare time when somebody called, it was usually some creep. With the sort of message no girl ever wanted to get.

The haunting cry of mourning doves echoed in the hot air. Corey’s voice rang down the back lane, followed by yells of other kids. Everybody in the world could tell where Corey Nevill was.

The gate latch clicked; feet thudded across the grass. Katie looked up and saw her brother in midair. She yanked Tyler into her lap just before the explosive splash.

Katie punched her brother’s slick, wet arm and stood up.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could’ve hurt him!

Owwww! Corey’s face contorted. You didn’t have to hit me.

You’re not bleeding. The heat wrapped around her. Miraculously, Corey was quiet. Then, men’s voices. Katie stiffened. Two men appeared at the gate with lumber and tools. Except, one wasn’t a man. It was Lorne MacAulay. From school.

Is this the Carrington place? the man called.

Katie nodded, her face flaming. He’d see her flab!

Corey darted over to look at the tools.

I’m Simon MacAulay, the man went on. We’re here to do your deck.

Katie picked Tyler up along with her phone and the towels; they’d help cover her stomach. She could feel Lorne’s curious gaze. No way was she looking at him, not with her face on fire. But maybe she was the one who ought to stare. Lorne’s Asian features were nothing like his father’s redheaded complexion. Lorne was slim and small; his father was burly. Maybe his stepfather?

What’s this? Corey was rummaging in the toolbox. What’s the bubble do?

"Corey," Katie warned.

It’s a level, Lorne explained. The bubble tells you when things are lined up straight.

Keep out of their way, Corey. Then her baby yanked down the strap of her bathing suit.

She wheeled around, only barely stopping herself from slapping him. *Tyler, how COULD you?* Why had she ever thought breastfeeding was a good thing? She caught a glimpse of Lorne’s face, stained a sudden pink, as she ran inside.

She might as well die. At least Lorne wasn’t anybody who mattered. Resentful, burning with humiliation, she let her baby nurse.

Tyler fell asleep soon afterwards. The house phone rang once, but it was only her mother’s friend Shirley. When Mona returned, Katie made a dash for the door. I’m going for a bike ride, she said. If Mona didn’t like it, tough. And her phone was still on her bed. If Mona didn’t like that, so what?

Hot wind gusted into her face, lifting her hair as she pumped along the path that meandered along Wascana Creek.

Her bike tires hissed against asphalt. Not many cyclists were out, but grasshoppers were on the path and everywhere else.

*Who’d you hang out with all summer? Nobody, just my baby and a bunch of grasshoppers….* A meadowlark sang from a Russian olive tree as she went by, its black V a vivid contrast to its yellow breast.

Katie rode to the end of the bike path and stood there looking past the outskirts of the city, out across the prairie. The air was thick with dust, and its telltale grittiness sent shivers through her teeth. But it was great to be alone.

She pushed her bike through the wild grasses growing along the sluggish creek. Grasshoppers thudded against her bare legs. It was ages since she’d had any space; she’d just sit and watch the sky, listen to the sounds of summer. And not think about diapers and heat rash. Teething. And trying to please her mother.

And Ryan. The awful hurt….

A clump of wolf willows beckoned near the water’s edge. Katie made her way there and dropped her bike. From here you could almost pretend the city didn’t exist. Ignore the youth detention centre off to the right. Just the airport fence, a line of power poles marching westward. An industrial building. The windrow and outbuildings of a farm. Halfway to the horizon, a string of stranded railroad cars.

Grasshoppers scattered when she sat in the leafy shade. She slipped her sandals off.

The earth was rock-dry, puckered by a labyrinth of cracks. A metal-blue dragonfly hovered nearby. A hot breeze stirred the willow leaves. She slapped a mosquito. In the distance, the city hummed. Gradually she felt the stillness of the prairie, and let it seep in.

She lay back. Closed her eyes, looked at the orangey glow of her lids. The smell of summer filled her nostrils, scents of weeds and dust and the creek….

She stretched backwards, felt the smooth warm bark of the scrubby bushes.

And fell into blackness.

TWO

IN THE Meeting Hall, a very old woman collapsed to lie senseless before the People of Aaurenan.

Pulsebeats roared in Iannik’s ears. "Nylla!" Scarcely hearing the frightened voices around him, he scurried to her side, nearly tripping over the hem of his robe in his haste—Nylla, his mentor, and the only one who lay between him and a terrifying future.

Her gnarled hand was cold in his trembling grip, her gaunt face the colour of fire-ash. Her white hair lay scattered across the mat. *Nylla!* At forty-seven summers, she was so frail it scarcely seemed possible life could yet dwell in so ancient a body.

Daaiv’d the healer knelt beside him. Calm yourself, Iannik. She needs our strength.

As Nylla had taught him, Iannik drew in a breath, then another and another. Pressing his fingers beneath the smoke-dark glasses of the eyeshield, he sought to concentrate.

Lieda his lifemate joined them. Iannik, she murmured, she breathes. It was true; the old Seer’s breast rose and fell, and with it came a faint whistling.

Above the great windows, the sky was grey; rain tapped its fingers upon the glass. All in the Meeting Hall waited; as always, old Jefrik muttered his dissatisfaction. Iannik tried not to listen, for the ancient uncle had only unpleasant things to say about Nylla and himself. But Jefrik was not the only one; the fears of the People shivered about them like leaves.

*Iannik of the Mutant Sight; Iannik the untrainable….*

He dashed this from his thoughts—though hadn’t he trained with Nylla the greater part of his seventeen summers, but still could not completely quench the fire of his Sight? To this day the People hadn’t forgotten what happened to Fod’rik, and feared him.

Daaiv’d waited.

Cautiously Iannik reached with his mind into the warm flow emanating from the healer, whose energies came steady and pure. And so, he linked to Nylla herself, whose mind he knew well from his apprenticeship. This day she sought to Open the crossing-channel, for she had Seen an infant she believed to be the T’laaure, the long-awaited Child of the Lore who would come from the poisoned time Before Collapse.

Upon linking, he nearly cried out. Nylla’s regal mind was riddled with dark chasms where the fire had been spent, its elegant, intricate structure crumpling like a lily past its ripeness. Terror darted amidst the myriad flickerings. Unconscious, Nylla sensed his presence and reached toward him in a mute plea for help. Iannik stilled and sent his energies to flow as a river into her need. At last his breath came calm.

*Young Iannik, my time soon ends,* she mindspoke, though she did not awaken. *The T’laaure beckons and you must greet him, and train him in the ways of Aaurenan. Go with caution, my dearest Iannik, lest you spend your Powers too soon.*

Iannik’s pulses leapt. He, train the T’laaure? It was unthinkable! Nylla must not depart; how could she leave the weight of Aaurenan’s very survival for him to bear alone? Then, shamed, he thought of Nylla’s exhaustion, her failing mind, her dimming Sight. He must not fault her. Iannik rose to face the People. The T’laaure beckons. His voice fell like a stone into the instant quiet. Were Nylla right this time, all would be saved.

The People’s voices rose like sparks from a fire. He felt their hopes, their movements, as his own, felt them sing like birds after a storm. All except blind old Jefrik with his mutterings about his father, the great Erd’ris, who would never have made a false summons; had he not indeed set the magic of the Testing Stone before his time came to its end? The man simply would not cease. Iannik longed to smite him as he would a bloodwing. Instead, he drew in a breath to cleanse himself of such thoughts.

The Seer’s Stone lay upon the grass mat, tumbled from Nylla’s pouch. His fingers longed to stroke its perfect ice-clear crystals, but he dared not. With respect, he wrapped the folds of his robe about the Stone and eased it back into its rightful place. If the T’laaure did not come, the Stone would one day be his to hold, passed down the line of Seers from the fabled days of Torin the Great. Until that time, he must not touch the precious artifact.

The T’laaure….

Eight times before, Nylla had summoned a male infant—and eight times, a child had screamed upon the Testing Stone. In every fibre of his body, Iannik felt the pain of those tiny mortals as the cruel Stone denounced them, and then returned them to their time.

None but Nylla had Opened in search of the T’laaure.

The Prophecies and Lore were clear about the Time of the T’laaure, and powerful Erd’ris, Seer before Nylla, had made ready for the dawning of this time. Might the Lore itself be false? He banished the thought. Lieda seemed to sense his fear, but she offered no gesture of comfort.

Head bowed, he silently crept up the packed dirt steps, leaving the hushed People of Aaurenan to wait in the Meeting Hall. Above-ground, rain struck his face. It did not lift the fear from his belly.

He would not play part to yet another infant’s pain.

Iannik prayed that this time Nylla would be right. For his sake; for the sake of the infant; and for the sake of all Aaurenan.

As the rain fell, he ran from the settled area with its small rounded hills, each with a dwelling-place, meeting area, storage place or animal-barn dug into the earth below. Lieda might follow to join him at the crossing-place. He must somehow keep this child safe from the painful magic of the Stone, and bring him home. Any male infant was a rare gift indeed.

Iannik ran faster. The wet grasses flashed beneath his bare feet.

THREE

KATIE fell into black nothingness.

Tumbling; no centre; she couldn’t tell which way was up. She tried to scream but couldn’t even breathe.

When it finally stopped, her stomach continued its flipping. Gagging with dry heaves, she rolled onto her side and tried to catch her breath. It was a while before she was able to sit up, and when she did, the world tilted crazily. Grey clouds blotted the sky. It was raining. And the air was sweetly fresh. Had she passed out or something?

She’d been near a clump of willows. Now thistles, chokecherries and saskatoons crowded around too. Cattails rose from the rain-pocked creek. It was the same on the opposite bank. A minute ago it had been grassy.

In a panic, she turned toward her bike.

It wasn’t there. Neither were her sandals. Her pulse thudded in her head.

The willows were still there, bark yellow with new growth. The chreee! of a red-winged blackbird sounded. A yellow- headed blackbird scolded from another bush.

Somebody had stolen her bike. And her sandals. She must’ve dozed off.

*Yeah, stupid. Bushes don’t grow that fast. And who’d steal your ratty old sandals?*

A hollow, betrayed feeling seized her. Her hand went to her pocket, reaching for her phone. But it was still on her bed….

Slapping at mosquitoes, she clambered out of the bushes and felt rain on her skin. She went limp. The detention centre wasn’t there, with its high chain fence and grim surveillance lights. The airport was gone; the railroad cars; the farm. Holding her breath, she turned toward the city.

It was gone too.

Again she reached for the phone that wasn’t in her pocket. A hopeless wail mounted inside.

There was that little rise, where the railroad cars had been. But all traces of civilization had vanished. There was no dust blowing. Everything was green.

Katie bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. The red-winged blackbird gave another chreee! and flapped away. The yellow- head stared at her with beady eyes.

Was she hallucinating?

Katie walked along the creek. No asphalt bicycle path appeared, not even a rut. Rainwater trickled cold down her neck.

It was far too quiet. She strained her ears but couldn’t hear even the faintest rumble of traffic. Or the airport. Her arms longed for Tyler’s cuddly warmth. Why had she left her phone at home?

Something sharp stabbed into her bare foot. She winced and sat down on a large flat rock to pull out a thorn.

And instantly hurled herself onto the ground. A huge, terrifying something pulsed from that very ordinary-looking rock—cold, greedy, with the intensity of a massive electric shock.

She staggered back in the direction from which she’d come and collapsed on the creek bank. Another chilling wave shook her as she crawled into a willow thicket. Her hand reached into her empty pocket.

Slowly her heart and breathing quieted. Sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the prairie with living light.

It was late; Tyler would’ve been up for hours. Her mother would be livid. Helpless tears rose hot in her eyes. *I’m here!* she cried in her mind. Not that Mona—or anybody—would hear. Especially her mother.

And then she froze. Voices. The rhythmic syllables were accented oddly, the speech formal and foreign.

A young man: —call. It cannot be— And he said a word she’d never heard of, something starting with T.

So Nylla has failed again. A girl’s sorrowful voice. There was a pause. You’re certain, Iannik? Where is he?

The young man mumbled something about mutant sight. Someone is come, he insisted. She is no infant, and her voice is powerful. A prickly sensation quivered along Katie’s skin.

The girl didn’t reply. Now Katie could hear their footsteps. And she—a gnat had just flown up her nose; she was about to— "AHHCHOO!"

A sudden silence, broken only by a musical chreee!

The sacred bush! the girl cried. "I didn’t know this was a crossing place. Why would Nylla choose one so distant?"

I wasn’t mistaken. The young man sounded apprehensive. Katie wished she could shrink deeper into the protective cover. Instead, she stood up to confront two staring faces, one with dark sunglasses. Dressed in long, loose garments, the two strangers looked about her age, maybe slightly older.

"A young woman. I thought it was the call of a child." The man’s wheat-pale hair hung to his shoulders; his face was bold, with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. Katie couldn’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses, and it gave her the creeps.

Iannik, do you think…? The girl backed up against him. Her fair hair was tied back, her face tanned and unguarded, with direct grey eyes.

And show Nylla’s failing before the people?

I’m lost, Katie stammered as they watched her intently. Can you help me? I don’t know what happened. I—fell; the city just…vanished. And my bike…. Her voice wobbled. I have to get home.

"Maybe we should take her to Nylla." The young woman sounded uncertain.

"No. At the man’s curt tone, Katie felt as if she were some kind of dreadful mistake. If it weren’t for the sunglasses, his eyes would be staring holes through her. You have touched the stone," he said uneasily.

Her palms went sweaty. I—what? Yeah, I sat on that big rock because.… Horror chilled her again. I have to get back. My baby.… Her throat clamped at the image of Tyler’s trusting face.

There was a shocked silence.

"The…child?" the girl whispered.

The young man nodded. Katie wished she could see his eyes. You have a male infant, he stated. It was not a question.

She scratched a mosquito bite on her thigh. Tyler’s only nine months old. I have to get back! The shielded eyes continued to stare. Katie shuddered and tugged at her wet shirt.

She’s frightened, as I was on my crossing. Compassion warmed the girl’s face. Send her back, Iannik.

The man’s hands grasped the girl’s robed shoulders. But the child…. Despite the sunglasses, he gave Katie such a piercing look that she cowered.

Katie clutched the willow branches so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms. "Please help me."

The young man gave the briefest of nods. Then he held still, seeming to concentrate on something. Sunlight played on his blonde hair.

Suddenly—the blackness. Falling. Again.

When it finally stopped, her forehead was beaded with sweat. The air was gritty. The sun glared down on a wilting world.

Choking with nausea, Katie sat up. A huge grasshopper perched on her knee with tiny clinging feet. In revulsion, she shook it off. Her hand hit a rubbery surface and hot metal spokes. Her bike.

She must’ve fallen asleep and had a weird dream—except, it was all too clear. The faces. The voices, the blackbirds. She ran her hands across her damp shorts. Like the cold twist of a blade in her gut, the feeling of the rock reverberated through her. She mounted her bike and pedalled hard across the bumpy grassland to the path.

She nearly ran down an elderly man walking his Schnauzer, and then almost skidded into a lamp post. At the pedestrian crosswalk, brakes squealed as she swerved around the rear end of a speeding Corvette.

The MacAulays were just finishing for the afternoon. Coming from the kitchen was the unmistakable aroma of chili. Katie heard Tyler’s voice raised in a cheerful screech. The back door was inaccessible behind the raw wooden skeleton of the new deck. Heading around to the front, Katie stepped over a hammer and carpenter’s apron lying on the grass, colliding with Lorne who was just reaching for them.

Sorry, he mumbled and pulled away.

He was so very ordinary, a reminder of her boring everyday life. Something inside her needed to cry.

He looked at her. Are you okay?

Why wouldn’t I be?

Lorne’s brown Asian eyes regarded her steadily. Pretty hot day for biking.

She forced a laugh. Diapers get kind of boring, you know.

He flushed slightly. I had the funniest feeling….

What?

Nothing. He turned away.

She wanted to grab his arm. "What? Tell me!"

See you, he said, and picked up the tools.

"Where the hell have you been? her mother yelled. You say you’re going for a ride, and then you disappear for three hours? To top that off, you didn’t even think to take your phone. Do you have any idea how many times I tried texting you? I have things to do too, you know."

Instantly, she had a headache. Sorry, she mumbled. I lost track of time. Explaining would be pointless. Katie lifted Tyler out of his high chair and nuzzled against his soft cheek. Her mother sighed. Apology accepted. Was Corey with the workmen? Or has he wandered off too? She shook her head and stirred the pot of chili. At least I got the story submitted.

Her voice droned on as Katie trudged through the motions of setting the table. They lived on the money from her mother’s writing, that plus child support. Katie often wondered if the true confession stories by Mona Carrington were really about her.

She put soda crackers in a bowl and handed Tyler one to chew on. Images lingered—the dizzy blackness of falling; the strange-but-familiar place; that rock…the people. Her hands shook as she laid out the cutlery. A fly wandered across Mona’s plate.

Corey still wasn’t back. After an exasperated shout out the door, Mona strode to the table with swift, angry steps. Kids, she muttered, ladling chili into her bowl. Then she looked up. Where’d you go for three hours? Shopping? Sunlight gleamed in her hair, tiny rainbow glints in the rich auburn.

Katie popped her knuckles. I rode along the bike path.

Alone? Her mother poured the milk, frowning. I don’t think that stretch near Empress Park is too safe. I really wish you’d taken your phone.

A few losers hanging out at a park was nothing. Katie gulped some chili. There was nobody out. It was too hot—just me, and the grasshoppers.

A pucker appeared between Mona’s eyebrows. "What did you do all that time?"

She aimed a spoonful of yogurt toward Tyler’s mouth, but he turned away. The yogurt slopped onto his chin and shirt, missing his bib. Relaxed. Watched the birds.

Her mother looked skeptical.

Corey barged in. You started without me?

Where have you been? Mona snapped. "Go wash. With soap. You’re filthy. She stood up to swat a fly that was buzzing at the window. It’s about time you showed consideration for the rest of the family."

Dad too? Corey smirked.

The flyswatter hit the glass with a hard slap. Katie watched her mother’s face redden. Watch your mouth, young man.

Even after four years, Mom was still mad at Dad. Why was Corey pushing his luck? Was he trying, in his infuriating way, to get sent to Medicine Hat for a couple of weeks to visit their father and his new family? Well, it would be a good riddance.

There was no chance she’d be invited. Dad and Sharla had a baby; Ashleigh was only a couple of months older than Tyler. Hurt swelled in the back of her throat. Dad had never seen Tyler. Though he always sent extra money for him each month, he obviously had no interest in being a grandpa.

She stared at the floral pattern on the spoon handle, wishing she could twist it.

One wrecked life. The stares of ex-friends, who’d discarded her like a burger wrapper. The obscene phone calls, with