CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Oliver blinked once. Twice. A moment ago he’d been in the wormhole. But now, suddenly, he was not. Instead, he discovered he was lying on his back, on wet sand that had soaked into his clothes. The sky above him was black, the stars numerous.
He sat up and glanced around. He appeared to be back on the beach on the island of Cousteau. But he had no idea how he’d ended up here, pretty much right back where he’d started.
His first thought was that he must’ve imagined the whole thing. Maybe he’d knocked his head as the ship had been sinking, and in his unconscious dream had invented the wormhole that had taken him through the dimensions. But no, his head felt fine. When he touched it he found no lumps or bumps that might indicate he’d hit it.
Well then, maybe he hadn’t
