Boston, New York, Charleston, Miami.
All had been hit.
They couldn’t estimate the number of fatalities.
I just sat there. I felt completely numb.
It was the worst natural disaster in recorded history.
The most violent volcano eruption in recorded history.
The biggest tsunami in recorded history.
They played some footage.
It played so fast they had to slow it down so you could see what was going on.
From the street, a shot of the Empire State Building and a tall cloud drawing closer and closer, frame by frame, but it wasn’t a cloud—it was a wall of water—and then the image went blank.
A beach and you’re looking out at the water, only there is no water, just a boat stranded about a mile out into the ocean bed and you hear a voice praying to Jesus and then the image is shaking, shaking, and a wave so high the minitab can’t see the top thunders up. Then darkness.
Chloe said she wanted to watch kid TV. We ignored her.
Bad Makeup said the National Connectivity was down because three of the five satellite centers had been located on the East Coast.
Blue Suit said the president had declared a state of emergency and was safe at an undisclosed location.
We watched, mostly in silence.
“Turn it to Tabi-Teens,” Chloe whined. “This is bo-ring!”
I looked at her. She was totally clueless. She was listlessly picking at a label stuck on the minitab counter.
None of the little kids seemed to understand what we were learning. They were just kind of slowpoking around, hanging out.
I had to keep watching the TV. Couldn’t think about the kids.
I felt gray. Washed out. Like a stone.
Bad Makeup said the megatsunami had triggered severe weather conditions across the rest of the country. Her voice caught on “rest of the country.” She mentioned storms called supercells, sweeping across the Rockies (that was us).
I looked over at Josie. She was watching the screen. Caroline had crawled onto Josie’s lap, and Josie was stroking Caroline’s hair absentmindedly.
CNN showed more footage from the East Coast.
They showed a house carried up the side of a mountain. They showed a lake full of cars. They showed people wandering around half naked on streets in places that should have looked familiar, but now looked like locations from war movies.
People in boats, people crying, people washed down rivers like logs on a log float, people washed up along with their cars and garages and trees and trash cans and bicycles and god-knows-what else. People as debris.
I closed my eyes.
Near me, someone started to cry.
“Put it to Tabi-Teens!” Chloe demanded. “Or Traindawgs or something!”
I took my brother’s hand. It was ice cold.
* * *
We watched for hours.
At some point, somebody turned off the television.
At some point, somebody got out sleeping bags for everyone.
They were really bothering us. Especially Chloe and Batiste.
Batiste kept talking about the “end of days.”
He said it was just like Reverend Grand said would happen. The judgment day was upon us. I wanted to punch him in his little greasy face.
I just wanted to think. I couldn’t think and they all kept crying and asking for stupid things and clinging to us and I just wanted them to shut up.
Finally Astrid bent over and grabbed Batiste by the shoulders.
She said, real clear and kind of mean, “You kids go and get candy. As much as you want. Go do that.”
And they did.
They came back with bags from the candy aisle.
That was the best we could do for them that night: candy. We took the bags and ripped them open and made a big pile in the middle of the floor, and everyone gorged on fun sizes of all brands and types.
We ate it like it was medicine. Like it was magic candy that could somehow restore us to a normal life again. We ate ourselves numb and got in our bags and went to sleep.
There was a lot of crying from the little kids and occasionally one of us would yell, “Shut up!”
That’s how we got by, that first night.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Acknowledgments
Excerpt: Monument 14
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Emmy Laybourne
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
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First hardcover edition 2017
eBook edition October 2017
eISBN 9781250135230
ks on Archive.