“I did check, and it appears that neither of you are particularly susceptible to motion sickness,” Second said. “Which is a very, very good thing.”
More spinning.
“I will never go to an amusement park again!” Katherine screamed.
“Isn’t this fun?” Second asked, his voice entirely too cheerful. “I’ve never been a betting man—what was the point of betting when I always knew the outcome? But now, when anything could happen . . .”
Jonah missed the rest of Second’s sentence, because the spinning started all over again.
“So I was thinking a little bet is in order,” Second was saying when the spinning stopped. “You succeed in cleaning up the problems in 1611, and I’ll guarantee your friends get safely out of the 1600s and back to the twenty-first century. Safely and happily, even in Andrea’s case.”
“And . . . JB’s,” Jonah mumbled, fighting back dizziness. He couldn’t tell if the spinning had begun again or if it all was in his head. “Save JB, too.”
“What’s that you say?” Second asked. “You say you count JB as your friend now too? Aw, how sweet. I can throw him and the dog in as a bonus. So the bet is, you succeed, and everyone’s safe. You fail and—well, anything could happen then! Time itself could end!”
“Jonah,” Katherine whispered, tugging on his arm. She pointed.
Jonah had been too focused on the spinning to notice, but there were lights directly ahead of them, zooming closer and closer, faster and faster.
“We’re about to land,” Katherine whispered.
“My message can only last the duration of your trip through time,” Second was saying. “So I’ll leave you with this final thought: How many times did you cross the ripple?”
“Five?” Jonah said. “Six?”
“I wasn’t counting!” Katherine fumed.
“The actual number doesn’t matter as much as whether it’s even or odd,” Second said cheerfully. “Even numbers mean you’ll beat the ripple to 1611; odd means you’re starting out behind.”
“But we don’t know!” Jonah screamed.
“Either way, best of luck!” Second continued. “I’ll be waiting for you after 1611!”
“He can’t be sure of that,” Katherine complained. “He passed out, remember? By now, JB will have him in time prison!”
“Don’t you think—” Jonah began, but they hit the last part of their journey just then, the part where everything sped up and it felt like they were being torn to pieces, down to each individual atom. The re-entry into time was harder than ever because they kept hitting the ripple. Spin, stop, spin, stop, spin, stop . . .
Even if Jonah had had an accurate count before, he would have lost it through all that spinning and tumbling.
And then everything stopped for good.
“Numb,” Jonah mumbled. “Can’t see. Can’t hear.”
Or maybe Jonah couldn’t speak, either, and he only imagined that his mouth was moving. Could he feel anything? It took a moment or two, but he could tell that the Elucidator was still in his right hand; he could feel Katherine’s hand still clutched around his right arm; he could tell he was lying flat on his back on some hard surface. And then something hit him in the face. Something light—a feather? A leaf?
Remembering how he’d had to brush away pine needles when he’d first arrived on Roanoke Island, Jonah clumsily groped his left hand up toward his face. It took three tries, but he managed to grab on to something: a piece of paper. There was a ripping sound. Jonah didn’t really have enough energy even to rip paper, so he froze, clutching the paper.
“Jonah? Katherine? Please answer! Please!”
Absently, Jonah noticed that this was JB’s voice again, coming from JB’s Elucidator.
Good, Jonah thought. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Not Second on JB’s Elucidator. That’s too confusing.
“Please answer! Are you there? Can you hear me?”
“—uh?” Jonah said.
He’d been trying for Huh? but evidently that was beyond him right now.
“We’re on emergency backup power—I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to talk to you,” JB continued. “This is what I have to tell you. Second escaped—”
“Escaped?” Katherine repeated. She was apparently recovering more quickly than Jonah, if she was able to say a whole two-syllable word. And sound outraged, all at once.
“Yes . . . I don’t know how he did it—he must have been prepared for me to hit him with that time smack. He must have just been faking it, when he passed out,” JB said. “And then he knocked me out and vanished. I should have been prepared for that, just in case. . . .”
Jonah blanked out for a moment. He wasn’t worried about Second just then. There was something else . . . someone else. . . .
“Andrea?” he whispered, with great effort. “How’s Andrea?”
“Jonah, she’s fine for now,” JB said. “We’re all fine. She’s buried the bones; Brendan and Antonio are doing their artwork. . . . We’re coping. But listen—” The urgency was back in his voice. “Everything depends on you and Katherine.”
Jonah couldn’t hear what JB said after that. Maybe the Elucidator shorted out for a few minutes.
“Feel like . . . John White,” he muttered to Katherine.
“What are you talking about?” Katherine asked.
“Him, us . . . had to leave everyone . . . go . . . help . . . ” Jonah had it worked out much better in his mind, better than what he could say. He meant that now he could understand how John White felt, how heart-wrenching it must have been for the old man to sail away from the people he loved, thinking that their very survival depended on him.
Katherine slugged Jonah’s arm. She was definitely recovering faster than he was.
“How can you say that?” she asked. “Look what happened to John White!”
“He made it back,” Jonah protested. “Found . . . granddaughter, at least.”