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Williams half-slept—his back propped against Ank and the wind in his hair—dreaming, remembering.
They had been running, was all he knew for certain: running with hundreds of others as the storm fell upon the fairgrounds and the dinosaurs scattered the crowd—entire swaths of which simply blurred and vanished completely, as though they’d never existed, as though they’d never been more than figments of his imagination. And then they’d been swallowed by a group none of whom had disappeared, and carried along by its current to the slow-moving train, upon whose flatcars throngs of parents had begun placing their children, and Williams had let go of her—of Tran’s—hand, and begun assisting them. And he hadn’t been but a few minutes—three, at a maximum—when Tran had called out ... for so
