Chapters (79)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Praise for Destroy All Monsters
- Books by Sam J. Miller
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
“What’s the matter?” Ash asked, sitting up, rubbing my back.
“It’s Connor,” I whispered, hating how much it hurt to say his name. “And Niv.”
I told her everything. The rhythm of the rain slowed down, in the time it took me to tell her. And then we just sat there. Something huge and heavy moved through the night outside our little hut—maybe a titanosaur, maybe a land dragon. Then it stopped, and let loose the most heart-rending wail. Like a foghorn on the edge of forever, crying out for ships that never come.
Ash stood.
“This is my fault,” she said. “Those Destroyers came looking for me.”
I took her hand, started to say, No, don’t say that, you couldn’t have known, it wasn’t even your choice to come to the Underbridge.
“We’ll get them,” she said, before I could get out a single word. “I promise you that.”
I believed her. I had no reason to, but I did. Something in her voice was unshakeable. I should have known right then and there what she was planning. What she was willing to do.
I wasn’t scared. I should have been, but I wasn’t. Ash and I were together, and together we were unstoppable.
Forty-Nine
Ash
Long after midnight. The streets were dark and wet. No one was out. The world belonged to us and us alone. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. Solomon and I were together, and together we were unstoppable.
The whole drive home, I practiced my lying. Said things out loud over and over again. Practiced my responses to every conceivable thing my parents would say. Kept my face blank, empty. Rooted out all my tells, every little tic and jerk and eye movement that might let on to them when I wasn’t being 100 percent honest. Until I felt . . . ready.
Two blocks from my house, I pulled over. “Get in the back and lie down on the floor,” I told Solomon. “Stay there for the next thirty minutes. Do you have a watch?”
He shook his head no.
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Well, shit. Try counting to sixty thirty times. Then get out—don’t slam the door—and go around back. I’ll have unlocked the door to the basement by then. I’ll leave you some sheets and blankets and stuff.”
“You still have that big Totoro beanbag chair?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to sleep on that.”
“Of course,” I said, touching his wet arm. “Although it might not be as big as you remember it. We’ve both grown a lot, since we were ten.”
He frowned, got out, went around to the back seat. When he was in the car again I pointed to the side of the road, where a trio of rabbits as big as dogs, with antlers like deer, were chewing on a bush. “Should I be concerned about those?”