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Anything.
That didn't mean he had to be proud of it.
Charlie managed another look at Vesuvius, then sucked in his breath. The fiery glow surrounding the volcano was bigger. And getting bigger by the second.
A seething cloud of brilliant, glowing gas—orange, baleful yellow, incandescent white in mad, churning patterns—enveloped the mountain. The fiery avalanche ran shrieking down the mountainside, miles wide. It lit up the whole night. The lethal glow split into waves of different speeds, illuminating the doomed town. Herculaneum huddled against the sea like a child's abandoned playset.
Except it wasn't abandoned.
The end had begun.
Charlie discovered he couldn't breathe. Couldn't even move. Fear held him, fear that ran to the core of his genes, like the leftover fears of some cave-dwelling ancestor, echoing down time to take up residence in Charlie's nerve endings. Sibyl had warned him, but not even her dire warning had come close to the reality of that... that...
God...
It smashed down the mountain. Vesuvius throbbed against the blackness. The surge spread over the countryside, churning and discharging lightning through the whole mass. Farms and groves Charlie had passed earlier in the day vanished under it.
Get out, Sibyl, get out of there... .
A third wave overtook the slower-moving second. Charlie shut his eyes. No way that's go
Whoever had summoned the time portal... could they get out before it struck? Was this ship far enough away not to get caught in the blast? Numb, battered, Charlie hugged his child close and watched the fiery surge roll down the flanks of Vesuvius. It smashed across the town. Phillipa's hoarse cry reached his ears. She pointed wordlessly. An odd darkness had split the surge, widening even as they watched.
A time hole, draining it off? My God, whoever went through, that surge blasted right through with them. Charlie felt sick, more helpless than he had the night they'd gu
Sibyl was dying, he was watching her death, and there was nothing he could do. Grief choked him, but the volcanic surge didn't let him grieve long. The rest of the seething, glowing gas belched out across the sea, right toward their fleeing boat.
Charlie clutched the gunwale, sucked in air against the constricting pain in his chest. It's going to catch us.... Charlie dragged frantically at fishing nets nearby. The darkness around the fishing boat glowed brighter and brighter as the surge raced across wild waves. Gagging fumes set them all coughing. Charlie dragged the nets over himself, dragged Phillipa and her baby down into the lowest part of the boat with him, shoved Lucania under his own body. She was crying, struggling against him. He huddled down right on top of her.
"Don't breathe! Whatever you do, don't breathe! Cover your child's mouth and nose!" He covered his daughter's whole face tightly with his own hands. Then heat and a blast of ash poured over them. The boat rocked madly, lifted stern-first. They slithered sideways into a trough. Water poured over the side. Stinging, cold seawater engulfed them. Charlie held his breath under the flood. The boat threatened to swamp. His lungs ached. Burned. He needed to breathe, had to breathe... .
Lucania was struggling against him. I'm suffocating her, dear God, I'm suffocating her to death— Then the boat righted itself. The puny craft rocked again as another wave poured over the side. But the next time the fishing vessel righted itself, the heat had dissipated, replaced by a rain of ash and rocks. Charlie gulped air reflexively. He coughed and choked, coughed again, while burning pain in his ribcage sent a stab of terror through him. For a split second, Charlie was convinced he'd inhaled air the temperature of a steel furnace... .
But the worst of the surge had passed, leaving them in a cloud of grit and ash. The pain in his chest was the pain of a broken rib, nothing more. He uncovered Lucania's face. She screamed and breathed against him. She's alive... .
He spent precious moments weeping.
Then, cautiously, Charlie poked his head out from under the fishing nets. They were hot to the touch, but the boat had held together. A flare of lightning showed him the mast, smoking and charred. Water pouring over the rest of the boat had saved them from death. At first he couldn't see Decius Martis. Then another flare of lightning revealed fitful movement in the stern. Under the strobe of multiple lightning flashes, the spare sail shifted, moved. Decius Martis finally emerged and gulped air.
"Phillipa?" Fear trembled in the man's voice.
She managed to poke her head into clear air. "I am all right, husband. And our son, too. The centurion pushed us under the nets. He saved us from burning to death!"
The fisherman shouted shaky thanks, then went back to fighting the tiller. The little fishing boat came about, stern-first to the waves again. Slowly Charlie uncurled his death grip on the coarse nets. He eased Lucania out from under him and made sure she'd taken no other injury. Then he wiped her tears and hushed her, rocked her in his arms and crooned a lullaby his mother had sung to him until she finally quieted. Were there mockingbirds in Europe now? He didn't think so... .
A measureless sweep of time flowed over them. Another fiery surge burst down across the town. This one barrelled farther across the heaving sea than the last. Once again, they all dove for cover under spare nets and sails. Again, water pouring into the little boat cooled them just enough to survive. By the time it was safe to emerge again, the mast was little more than a charred stump, two-thirds of it snapped off. The gunwales were a smoking ruin. But—once again—the little fishing boat had held together, saved from burning by the rough seas.
Charlie held his terrified daughter, rocking her once more into silence. While he sang of mockingbirds and looking glasses and pony carts, he eyed the ruined mast. So much for using wind power to get us out of this nightmare. Back toward shore, the time storm was breaking up. The anguish that came with just looking at the diminished lightning flashes was nearly unbearable. Sibyl, I'm sorry....
Then baseball-sized rocks and glowing volcanic debris hit the ship. "Get down!" He dragged the heavy nets over Phillipa and her child again. "Hold Lucania! I'll be back!"
The little girl screamed in terror when he left her. Charlie struggled toward the stern. Salt water poured over the charred gunwale and he was suddenly breathing the Mediterranean. Charlie coughed and spat, then a rocky missile impacted against his armor. He yelled. Another spreading bruise for already-battered ribs.... He finally fought his way back to Decius. Charlie yanked off his helmet and jammed it onto the fisherman's unprotected head.
"Get under cover!" Decius yelled. "Thanks—but don't be a fool!"
Charlie didn't argue. He rescued his daughter from Phillipa and crawled under the spare sail with her, giving Phillipa the privacy of the fishing nets. Lucania wrapped both arms tightly around his neck, in a baby version of the universal panic-stricken stranglehold. Charlie huddled beneath the sodden sail, leaving the sailing to the professional sailor, and whispered to his little girl. "Shh... Papa's got you now, honey, shh..."
Lucania quieted almost at once. He kissed her brow in the darkness and told her how wonderful she was, how brave and beautiful and fine she was, how proud of her he was. Charlie was still talking when he realized she'd fallen asleep under the protective curl of his body.