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
That worked better. Ash blinked, and we were gone from the little hut.
A massive movie theater. Abandoned now—the place smelled of mold and dust—but packed with people. Ultramarine armbands; posters that said “Destroy All Monsters.”
Ash’s voice echoed in my ear, in the real world. “This is his headquarters.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
More scenes of hustle and bustle. Thick red carpet had been torn up in spots, and was worn thin in others.
“I can’t place it. And I don’t know if Connor and Niv are here. The things I see—I can’t control what I see, or when, or why.”
Giant crates were stacked along the wall. The seal of the Darkside Police Department was emblazoned on the side of each.
Ash said, “Gifts, courtesy of Commissioner Bahrr.”
Of course. “The Shield is nothing without Bahrr,” I said. “But it doesn’t go both ways. If the Shield falls, Bahrr will be just fine. To take Bahrr out—we need your mom. We need to go to the Palace as soon as possible. You need to speak with her. Convince her. Make her—”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”
The images kept coming. Me and Ash, in weird clothes, sitting inside of a giant metal box that smelled of leather and gasoline. Eating weird food: fried brown ovals. Both exhausted, both looking bleary-eyed and rough. Was it the other side?
“I am kind of hungry,” she said, pulling us out of the vision.
“We should go get breakfast,” I said. I grabbed the little radio, and we walked out into a weirdly warm day.
Fifty-One
Ash
“Welcome to this weird, beautiful day,” Ms. Jackson said, through my car radio, her gravelly smoker’s voice soothing as ever. “Seventy degrees out, sun shining like summertime. They’re saying it might get up to seventy-five. Doesn’t seem right, for the end of October. Global warming, beloveds. We’ll enjoy our nice days for as long as we can, I guess, until the rising seas swallow us up.”
Solomon and I sipped our McDonald’s coffee and picked at a pile of hash browns. Seven thirty in the morning and we were both exhausted, both looking bleary-eyed and rough. We’d driven around until McDonald’s opened, and then we’d found a quiet place with no people.
“We have to tell Connor,” I said. “We have to get him the hell out of there.”
Solomon’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god, Ash. You don’t think—”
“Hey,” I said, reaching for him.
“Oh my god,” he said again, and lowered his face into his hands. When he spoke again, I could hear how hard he was working to keep from crying. “All this time, I—”
“Mr. Barrett is a monster,” I said. “Okay? His behavior is not on you.”