fuonlyknew

Welcome to The Friday 56 hosted by Freda’s Voice.

This is a really fun meme!

The only rules are to grab a book (any book), turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader and find a sentence or a few (no spoilers) that grabs you and post it.

The Rain

Rain Trilogy #1

by Joseph A. Turkot

My 56

I wonder if there are more out there. It’s like Dusty senses my thoughts though, and he tells me they’ve set an extra watch tonight, but there shouldn’t be any more attacks. I fix on his face, studying it, the curve of his chin, and his lips, and his eyes that look like they’re feeding on me. I think of Rochester, and Russell’s warning, and I realize how right he is. We don’t know anyone here. But even when I’m looking for it, I don’t feel any malice in Dusty or in Marvolo. I’m torn.

~~~~

Synopsis

There are a lot of stories about how the rain started.

The thing that always comes to mind first isn’t the how though, it’s the how much. Russell still does the math too: 15, 5,400, and 8,550. 15 inches a day, 5,400 a year, and 8,550 feet since the start.

We have no idea if it’s accurate. But it’s important to think about it, he says, because it reminds us to keep moving. I’m Tanner. Russell plucked me from the rain when I was two.

Fourteen years ago we left Philadelphia. As the water rose, we moved west, hoping the elevation would keep us warm and dry. Pittsburg, Indianapolis, Sioux Falls, Rapid City. Now we’re stranded on the islands in Wyoming. Russell thinks they used to be the Bighorn mountains. But we can’t go back now. There’s no warm and there’s no dry anymore. Just a rumor about a place where it isn’t raining. So we’re going to try to make it—520 miles south to Leadville. But we can’t drift east, the Great Plains have become waterspout alley, a raging tomb of moving water.

Together we push on, surviving, heading to Leadville. But something is wrong with him now. He says it’s nothing. But his breathing doesn’t sound that way.

Exposure, pruned hands, and infection. But since Rapid City, it’s the face eaters too. And the crack in the canoe that’s growing. And the ice I think I see on the water. Russell thinks it’s my imagination.

We cling to the last strips of the veneer. And each other.

~~~

I couldn’t imagine trying to live in a world of wet, of rain, of moisture and more moisture.

I like a rainy day now and then. I can put off the outdoor chores, curl up with a good book, and not feel guilty about it. LOL

But the sun had better come back out soon. I need those rays, the brightness, the heat on my skin.

I have a feeling by the time I finish this book, these poor people will still not see the sun, whether dead or alive.

~~~

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