He slammed into it, making too much noise—but what did that matter when everyone was going to see him in a few moments anyway? Look for a window, he thought disjointedly. Or a door. Weren’t there any breaks at all in the wall? Any other way to get through? Jonah spread his hands along the wall, feeling side to side. It was solid in every direction. JB, this would be a great time to pull me out of 1903, he thought. But how could JB suddenly have the power to do that, if he hadn’t been able to get Jonah out before? What could JB do when he was trapped himself? Oh, please, God, Jonah thought. Can’t you help? Jonah wasn’t sure he’d prayed even once during all his time-travel trips—it had all seemed too strange, too far from anything he’d learned about the way religion worked. But he felt a little steadier just thinking those few words. Steady enough to turn around, and prepare to be caught. Mileva’s father was in the front of the mob of torch-bearing men. He was roaring, “Stop!
