But not for long. Without warning, a miniature sun erupted in the middle of the clearing. It burst into being with a noise like crackling thunder and a flash of light so intense it blinded several of the creatures who chanced to look upon it.

Everything in the vicinity fled. There was only silence as the light faded, growing bluer and bluer, merging with the darkness. The outline of five figures materialized.

Jill blinked into the light, trying to get her bearings. She wasn’t dead, at least she didn’t think so, and it didn’t feel like her legs had replaced her arms or her lungs had turned inside out or anything else of that nature.

She groped around and found a hand—Nate. She grasped it, panicking for a moment with worry. But he squeezed her back, reassuring, whole. Relief made her knees weak. Her feet felt pinned to the ground.

Gravity. It felt so strong—too strong to be Earth? Or was she simply unaccustomed to it?

She closed her eyes against the stinging light and when she reopened them it was better. To her left she could make out the silhouette of Nate, his head turned toward her. Farther away, in a wide circle, were three others. It was like watching a film negative develop. There was… yes, the rabbi, on her right, with his full beard, rubbing his eyes. And next was… Denton Wyle, tall and slim, his arms held out as if to catch himself, already aware enough to be astonished. And the last…

The last figure was farthest from her and she could just make out a well-made masculine shape, tight, heavy clothes. Who…?

“For the love of God, what’s happened?” The rabbi found his voice first.

Jill tried to speak and had difficulty moving her mouth. It was as if her brain were trying to reacquaint itself with the engine under its control.

“Rabbi Handalman,” she managed, “it’s Jill Talcott.”

“Dr. Talcott?” came a light male voice. “Is that Nate with you? It’s Denton.”

“Yup, it’s me, Nate.”

And still the fifth figure did not speak.

The light had continued to dim, moment by moment, and now Jill could make out Nate’s features. He was looking around and then he looked at her and smiled—not a big smile, he was not quite in control of himself enough for that, but it was big in intent. It said, We did it. We’re home.

She tried to verify that herself, squinting beyond him to make out trees, tall and black against the bluish light. She looked straight up above her and saw a familiar moon. The coldness and the scent of the air penetrated her senses. She breathed it in, her nostrils growing brittle, exhaled to see a plume of mist.

“Is this Earth?” came the rabbi’s voice, hopeful, trembling. “It’s not possible… Is it?”

“We’re back where we started, Rabbi,” Nate said. “At least, that was the general idea.”

“You did this?” Denton sounded delighted.

Jill squeezed Nate’s hand, hard. She was staring at the fifth figure across the clearing. At first she had the irrational idea that there’d been some crossed wires in time, that they’d plucked some random stranger out of the ether accidentally. For there he stood, becoming clearer by the moment—a muscular form in heavy dark clothes, close-cropped blond hair, stern, square, craggy face.

The man was staring at her. He stood stiffly, arms at his side, face struggling with… fear? Confusion? Rage?

Denton found his legs and took a shaky step, going over to the rabbi and grabbing him in a bear hug, to which the rabbi said, “Oooff!”

“Jill? That’s not Anatoli. Who is it?” Nate asked in a quiet voice.

His question, at last, triggered a memory, a memory aided by the cold white-blue eyes coming into focus. Only they weren’t cold now; they were burning, staring at her.

“Oh, god,” she muttered.

She saw the same recognition on his face, at the same instant. And then he moved, fluidly, taking a step back and going into a wide stance. Denton and Rabbi Handalman were chatting, oblivious, as the man brought up his hands, revealing the presence of a heavy old-fashioned handgun. He pointed at Jill.

“Freeze!” he screamed, his voice loud and rich with emotion. He aimed the gun from one to another of them as Denton and the rabbi turned to regard him with surprise. “Into a line—move!” He motioned with the gun.

Jill shared a look with Nate—a look of frustration and hopelessness that they had come back all this way only to be captured so easily and so soon. But the four of them did as they were told, moving into a line. Rabbi Handalman was on her right.

“Who is this?” the rabbi demanded. “What’s going on?”

Jill shook her head tightly and spoke to the gunman: “It’s all right. You’re back home now.”

“Yeah, take it easy,” Denton said soothingly.

Nate was still holding her hand, trying to draw her toward him, behind him, to protect her. She resisted. If this was anyone’s battle it was hers.

The man with the gun continued to swing it from one of them to another, staring especially at her and Nate. His widely planted legs were shaking so badly it was a miracle they held him up. The woods were now coming into sharp focus around them and his eyes darted here and there as if trying to get his bearings. In the last of the fading light his face was white, covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He was panicked, Jill realized, completely and utterly out of his head. He might do anything. And for the first time she was genuinely afraid.

“Lieutenant Farris?” she said in a loud, soothing voice. “Are you ill? Could you please lower the gun?”

With great deliberation he straightened his body and pointed the gun, in one extended hand, right at her head. The intention on his face was murderous. And then those white-blue eyes rolled back and Calder Farris collapsed into a dead faint.

They debated what to do with Farris’s unconscious body for several minutes. Denton was cold, freezing his ass off cold, and he knew they had to find shelter soon. Nate and Jill wanted to take Farris with them. Apparently, he was an agent with the Department of Defense, someone Jill had met before. Denton wasn’t sure why they would want to drag around a man who was out for their blood, but it was certainly possible that if they left him alone he would freeze to death.

The four of them formed a square, carrying the man like pallbearers. Jill’s short stature tilted the burden in her direction and Denton had to walk with his knees bent. And he was dressed for ninety-degree weather, so there was nothing between him and the frigid air but a pair of jeans and sandals. All in all, it was excruciatingly uncomfortable, not to mention a nice, sharp dose of fifty-fifty reality. Welcome home!

Yet nothing—not the pain in his knees or the ice forming between his teeth—could touch Denton’s elation. They were back; they were honest-to-God, no-freaking-way back. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he figured there was an explanation, technical as hell, and he’d hear it eventually. For now, he was busy calculating all the nifty stuff he was going to be able to do, imminently, like eat ice cream and watch the tube for about a week solid. And then there were, oh, women.

At that thought he felt a twinge of conscience. He and Eyanna never had hooked up, and he’d remained celibate the last few months in Khashta. He didn’t want to slip back into his old ways now. But he knew that was not going to happen; he would never be that person again. In fact, it would be interesting to find out who he would be now that he was back on his home turf.

They took more wrong turns than they needed to. Just about the time all of them were utterly exhausted, they saw lights through the trees. They followed the lights until they saw a tiny house. They paused at the edge of the woods, dropping their burden none too gently.