I had seen this version of our town before, of course, but it still broke my heart to lay eyes on it again. The minute we stepped off the train, I could see the influence of the invading Russians: the guards in stiff uniforms roaming the train platform, the signs in dual languages. But the biggest anomaly was the division between the people: rich and poor.

On the rich side, the same fifties' fashions that had been trending in Portland seemed to be in vogue—lots of red lipstick, bouffant hair, and what appeared to be fox-fur coats. Near as I could figure, the fifties had been some sort of heyday for the Russians and the Americans who were glad to have them. Money was pouring in, they were all living the high life. So there was still some cultural fascination with that time period that never really died out. At least, not for them.

But on the poor side, kids younger than me shuffled aimlessly around the tracks with no shoes on their freezing feet, begging passersby for change.

As Adam and I threw our backpacks over our shoulders and started walking away from the station, I wondered how we must look to the people all around us. Which group did we seem to fit into? Or was it obvious that we didn't fit in at all?

My instinct was to head to my house, but I dreaded to discover what it might look like in this reality. Would my dad even still live here? Would he be married to Laura? I reminded myself that it didn't matter; that if we were successful in finding and stopping Jenny, this version of events would cease to exist. But for now, it mattered very much, both to me and everyone else around me.

"What's the plan?" I asked Adam once we were across the street in front of Graussman's Pharmacy and safely out of earshot of the Russian guards.

"We need to get a more specific idea of where in history Jenny went—when the paths of our world and this one first separated."

"Okay. So should we go to the library, or..."

"Oh, you mean the library where you did your Genghis Khan research?" he teased. I could only blush in response. "Word to the wise," he continued, "don't crib off Wikipedia. We have software to detect that."

"It wasn't all from Wikipedia," I protested, but I had to admit he had caught me.

"It's not important right now. We can't go to the library."

"Why not?"

"Because history is written by the victors, M. We'd only get the official Russian version of events. We need to talk to real people."

"What real people?"

He pulled out a couple of the pictures from Sage's album, flipping through them until he found one of Sage herself, sitting awkwardly in front of a statue of Stalin. "Sage's mom. She was very smart and always nice to me. She's not alive anymore, but we could use this picture to go back to this date and talk to her there."

"Yeah, but Adam, this is a different timeline than when you met her. She won't remember you." I hesitated a moment before saying anything else, but then I couldn't stop myself. "And neither will Jenny."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because if this is just some excuse to go see your ex-girlfriend, I really don't have time for it."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"The adult Jenny left our timeline, came down to this one, and then went back to the forties. That's what Sage said. She's the one we're looking for—the adult from our timeline—not a seventeen-year-old, which will be a different version of her anyway. We shouldn't waste our time—"

"Where in the forties, M? What year, what day?"

"Well, when was the bomb dropped?"

He sighed, reining in what appeared to be frustration either with my tone or the fact that I knew so little about history that I had to ask that question. "August sixth, nineteen forty-five."

"Okay, so sometime before then."

"Oh, great, that narrows it down. Do you know how long I've looked for her? This is the first real lead I've got. Why are you giving me a hard time?"

"Why are you mad at me?" I asked, realizing that we were drawing attention from too many people. I took a step closer, trying to keep the volume down.

He shook his head, looking down at his feet, crammed as they were into a pair of Ado's stained old gym shoes. "I'm sorry, I'm really hungry."

"Well, I offered you a sandwich..."

I opened up the backpack and dug out what was left of the take-out food. The turkey and mayo had been sitting out all night, and I made an executive decision that he shouldn't eat it. "Stale French fries or a Danish?"

"Danish, please."

I handed it to him, and I could see the tension physically deflate from his body as he chewed and his blood sugar came back to a normal level.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I waited another moment, looking around at the tired masses of people roaming around us like zombies and nibbling on a few of those stale French fries. "Do you really think Sage's mom can help?"

"Unless you've got a better idea?" he responded, his tone significantly softer than a moment ago.

"I don't."

He held up the picture of Sage again, and I could only nod in agreement.

*

I spent the walk to the high school mentally preparing myself for what it would look like, remembering the nurse who had been dispensing vaccine shots after I had rescued Robbie and Piper from the train two years ago. And yet no matter how much I tried to be ready, the actual sight of it still felt like a punch in the gut.

The words "Good Citizens Academy" now adorned the front portico, just as they had in Sage's pictures, with the Russian translation beneath it. But the building looked even more imposing and cold than it had in those twenty-year-old images. There had been some trees then, at least, at the corners of the building. Now they were removed, two stone guard towers having taken their place.

There was no nurse's station set up in front of it anymore. I guess by this point, everyone in town had either already received their vaccine, or the disease had already taken them.

But there were lines of people anyway. One line for bread. One for socks. And another line—the longest one—winding its way through the parking lot, was just people queuing up for an empty table. Whatever was supposed to be there had apparently run out. But the people waited anyway.

There weren't any children in the lines, however. It was after eight a.m., and they were probably inside already, being force-fed whatever information my mother and President Koenig decided they should know.

The study of mathematics makes women infertile. I still remembered that particular little nugget from last time.

Or maybe they were just working on their letters to President Koenig, expounding on how perfect and amazing he was so they could get the chance to ride a pony. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Adam and I were standing frozen at the edge of the parking lot, watching the sad progression of desperate people lined up before us, and I could feel my breath growing heavy with an impending rage.

"You okay?" Adam whispered to me.

But I only shook my head.

"Marina," he continued.

I tried regulating my breathing, but it only made my cheeks grow hotter. How did these people let it get this bad? Why didn't they revolt when it first started? Or did it start too quickly? Was it the threat of the disease that kept them pacified—the idea that only those magical shots from their godlike president could possibly save them, and so they should shut up and be grateful?

Don't forget to be grateful and gracious.

"M?"

"What?"

Adam was still looking down at me, waiting for me to snap to.

"We have to get into the school."

He was right, of course. There was no time for my feelings right now. We had too much to do. I nodded in response, shaking off my anger so I could pay attention.

"Follow my lead?" he asked, and I nodded again.

He took my arm and led me with a forceful push towards the school entrance, where another guard in that same over-starched uniform was surveying the people before him, a smirk of disgust on his sallow face.

"Caught this one ditching," Adam explained as we reached the guard.

The man swore to himself in Russian. "What were you thinking?" he then repeated to me in English, rubbing a hand through his thinning black hair.

"I needed to—"

"Don't talk," Adam reprimanded, smacking me on the back of my head. I knew he was doing it for the guard's benefit and yet it still made me want to throttle him. The heat of anger returned to my cheeks, but I swallowed down the urge to say anything more. "Can you believe these kids?" Adam added to the guard.

"They're bad seeds," the guard agreed, but his eyes had fallen to my chest when he said it, a fact that Adam didn't seem to miss as his hand tightened around my upper arm again. "I'll take her in for you," the guard offered, stepping up to meet me.

"No, I'll do it myself," Adam insisted. "I want to have a word with the headmaster."

"I insist," the guard replied, a sleezy smiling now oozing over his thin chapped lips. "Get back to work, citizen." Before I knew it, the guard had yanked me away from Adam and was leading me through the hallway, his hand on my lower back and working its way even further down.

I risked a look over my shoulder towards Adam, only to find him stranded by the door.

Shit. What do I do?

I could wait until we got to the principal's office—if there even was a principal in this godforsaken place—and then try to ditch this guy. Maybe Adam would meet me at the boiler room? But for now I was too distracted by the fact that the guard's hand had reached its goal: cupping my ass as we walked. I tried to pull away, but he only forced me closer. We were about to turn a corner and then I'd be alone with him. Was I strong enough to fight him off?

Before I could think of an answer to that question, the guard was suddenly hurled away from me. I turned in time to see Adam punching him out. I heard a pop and a clanking sound a few feet away. It took me a second to understand that the red object that had gone flying was one of the guard's teeth.

"Run!" Adam shouted before the guard had time to recover.

I didn't need to be told twice. I ran with all my might after Adam, my body in pure adrenalin mode and every muscle in my thighs tensing as we wound our way through hallways that were utterly foreign in appearance, and yet completely familiar in layout.

Before I knew it, we'd reached the door to the boiler room, only to find it locked. Adam quickly fumbled through his backpack, pulling out his school keys.

"They won't be the same," I warned.

"It's a master key. It might work," he muttered, the shaky fingers of his now bloody right hand almost dropping the whole ring as he tried to insert the biggest of the keys. A moment of breathless anticipation followed, and a second later, the flood of relief as the door opened.

We hurried inside and slammed the door back shut behind us, locking it from within. We'd made it into the boiler room. Now we could only pray that the science lab was still there, that the Russians hadn't sealed it off.

Rushing down the stairs, I was relieved to find that at least the wooden key that opened the second door to the winding hallways was still lodged above the doorframe. It wasn't until we were through it and working our way down that mysteriously curved walkway, thankfully now devoid of office workers, that I realized Adam was holding his shaking hand.

"You okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine," he panted, but I could see that he was shaking.

"Let me see it," I insisted, turning his hand over to inspect what would surely soon be very bruised knuckles.

"I haven't punched someone out in years."

"Yeah?" I asked, letting go of his hand as there was nothing I could do for him until we could get hold of some ice. "What's it like?"

"Honestly? It's fucking great," he smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back, wishing more than anything that I could have been the one to knock that jerk's tooth out after he grabbed my ass.

"Thank you, Adam."

He simply touched the top of my head with his still trembling hand in some sort of protective and kind gesture, and then nodded towards the science lab. "Let's go."

"Yeah."

We ran the rest of the way, not pausing long to consider some new computations that had been scrawled over the whiteboard, before racing down the spiral staircase towards the portals. Once we were in the anteroom, Adam pulled out the picture of Sage, grabbed my hand, and inserted a penny into the door to Yesterday.

*****

Keep reading for chapter 26!