The air in the house thickened, as though the dust itself had drawn breath. Lena stood near the staircase, barefoot, her skin glacial with fear. She could n't flash back when she'd last felt warmth. The electricity was long gone; no hum of life, no meter of machines. Only the slow, jouncing palpitation that came from the wood, from the old shafts that moaned as if stretching after a century of sleep. Every nanosecond since 300 AM had stretched endlessly — like the house was enmeshing time itself, looping it back upon her. She wanted to scream, but the house heeded too nearly. She