The Rift - Howard Chris (читать книги бесплатно полностью .txt) 📗
“Don’t sound so bad.” I tried smiling.
“It was all wrong, though. I was trapped in there.”
“You were just dreaming,” I said, but I’d turned tight and cold inside.
“You couldn’t see me. You were running through the forest and screaming my name. And I was trying to tell you I was there, right there, but no matter what, you still couldn’t hear me. It was like the words wouldn’t even come out of my mouth.”
I couldn’t look at her now. I glanced back at the wall of corn behind us. The dust. The sun. Anything else.
“It don’t mean nothing,” I said.
“Yes, it does. It was a warning. My own mind telling me that I’ll lose you if we don’t remember this.” She put her hand on my chest. “You mustn’t forget. Okay? And I won’t forget, neither.”
“I won’t forget it,” I said. Because how could I tell her the real meaning of her vision? The real future that the world had in store.
“I’ll send word,” she said, trying so hard to hold it together. “To Waterfall City. Let you know when the Army of the Fallen Sun is ready to rise once again.”
“We’ll go wherever you want.” I tried to smile as I said it. “Just me and you. In the end.”
“See those trees bloom. Leaves and apples and everything. In the spring, right?”
“Right,” I said. “In the spring.”
I stepped closer. Pushed her rags above her stomach and wiped off the dirt. I put my hand against the bit of bark GenTech had sewn into her, and I let my fingers rest there a moment, as if I might conjure some spell. Then I pulled her towards me, shielding her with my body.
“I’ll be your pirate queen,” she said, her voice shaking. Her breath so warm on my neck.
“Course.”
“And you’ll be my tree king.”
I forced a smile, even though she couldn’t see me. Even though her face was buried in my chest.
“Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” she asked, and I held her face in my hands, wiped the dust off her skin. Then I kissed her lips and her neck and her shoulders. I held every part of her against everything I had.
“Hurry,” I whispered. Swallowing back tears as I watched her mount her speeder. Feeling ripped out and empty as she tugged down her mask.
And then she was tearing off beneath the burning sky and the plumes of dust, and the sound of her engine was the only thing left behind. And perhaps I should have let my tears loose, when she’d still been there to see them. But I’d wanted to look strong so she’d remember me that way, as if I could stop time or make the world stop spinning long enough to jump off. But the world would keep turning and time would keep moving and with spring would come life, and with life would come death.
But if I could get back those trees, there might still be a way forward. Because if Alpha was sick, there had to be a remedy. And if the bark was a disease, then there was one tribe that might know the cure.
END OF BOOK TWO
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As the journey of this story gets bigger, so does my list of people to thank.
My agent, Laura Rennert, provides me with brilliant support, and she edited this book with me, back and forth and back again, making it infinitely better. Others helped make it better, too: Jenny “Sassafrass” Kapke, Eric Dinkel, and MG Buehrlen all pitched in with their thoughts at important stages in the process. My dad, my mum, Annemarie Carzoli, and Mike Stjernholm all gave very useful feedback. My copy-editor, Pamela Feinsilber, went above and beyond, as we got near the end. Lara Perkins was on top of logistics that would make my head spin. Taryn Fagerness, my foreign rights agent, connected the story with people in different countries around the world, and I’d like to acknowledge everyone involved at the publishing houses in those countries, too.
I’d also like to acknowledge the booksellers, school teachers, librarians and book bloggers who were so supportive when the first book in this trilogy hit the shelves.
A big thanks, also, goes to every reader that got in touch with me after reading Book One and wanted to know when they could read Book Two.
I’m grateful to my family and my family of friends, who are always so enthusiastic and supportive. And my incredible wife, Allison Benner, helped me hugely with this story, and even more importantly, she makes the story of my own life better in every single way.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Before he wrote stories, Chris Howard wrote songs, studied natural resources management, and led wilderness adventure trips for teenagers. Born and raised in England, he currently lives in Colorado with his wife. Visit him online at www.chrishowardbooks.com.
OTHER TITLES BY CHRIS HOWARD
ROOTLESS (Amazon)
ROOTLESS (Chris’s Website)
The Rift
Copyright © 2014 by Chris Howard. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
