The Slanted Worlds

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If the past becomes a land to voyage unto, how carefulle the journeyman must be. Will he not tread in a nightmare of uncertaynties? Be enmeshed in histories of which he knows nothing?

Like a man coming suddenly to a foreign land, and speking not the language . . .

From The Scrutiny of Secrets by Mortimer Dee

THE BOMB FELL in a split second of silence.

Racing down the street, Jake felt the unbearable pressure in his teeth and nerves; he grabbed at the unlit lamppost and threw himself to the ground.

The explosion was terrifying, a white starburst on his retina. It blew out every window. Bricks and dust roared down, glass shattered on his back and head and arms. Lumps of rubble thudded on him.

For a moment he was blind and deaf in a fog of ash and pulverized brick, afraid of broken legs and arms. Then he coughed, dragged himself up onto hands and knees, and turned his head.

The street was gone.

What had just been a square of Georgian houses was now a vast crater spouting flames, lurid in clouds of smoke. Fires erupted like volcanoes; as he staggered to his feet he felt sudden heat scorch his face.

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