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426 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1989





The fire grew through the day into a night that looked like an eerie orange day. If the flames ever went out, the passengers would disembark in London, if there was still a London then. Because it was disappearing before their eyes, as all their other senses verified. The cinders rained down upon them, blown by the same easterly wind that fanned the flames. When the wind veered, they sometimes smelled the city sour, as though it were a burnt-out fireplace. Other times the scent came to their noses woodsy, as if it were a homey kitchen fire. And there were times that the odor was bitterly acrid as hell itself at high noon.