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
“You need to talk to someone, at least,” I said. “Figure out what’s going on, and what kind of treatment options are available. I used to think—”
And then, with a nakedness and need that made me shiver, Solomon interrupted me and said: “I need you to remember.”
“Remember what?” I asked, and waited, but he never answered.
“Help me, Solomon,” I said. “I want to remember. Help me to remember.”
He looked off into the distance.
“It’s getting worse,” I asked. “Isn’t it? I saw—I think I saw something. . . .”
Solomon nodded. “Something is coming. Something that will upset the balance. Change everything.”
I waited for more, but there was none. Eventually, he shut his eyes. Smiled. Whispered something.
He was gone. Back into that dream world of his.
A tiny part of me envied him his ability to escape to a better reality so easily.
The rest of me felt sick.
I remembered the first time I ever saw a homeless person, on a trip to New York City with my family to go to a Broadway show. A woman was sitting on the sidewalk, hugging herself. Her clothes were filthy. Her skin looked awful. And I got so sad and nauseous that I couldn’t enjoy the show, and I was miserable for the next several days.
I kept seeing her in my mind’s eye. I wanted to help her, but what could I do? My mother and father had kept on walking, and so, so had I.
I kept wondering: What had happened? Where had her life gone wrong? Why hadn’t someone taken better care of her? Who had evicted her, kicked her out of her home?
Sitting there next to Solomon, shivering in the chilly air of the abandoned playground, surrounded by fallen jelly beans and shattered bottles, I wondered if I wasn’t watching the exact moment where his life went wrong.
Eight
Solomon
Jellybeans, everywhere. Jellybeans and broken glass, like someone had dropped a hundred jars full of them. Maraud dipped her head, attracted by the sweet smell, but I pulled back on the reins.
It wasn’t a completely unusual sight. Raptor Heights was kinda like that. Crazy characters lived out here. One time I came through and there were thousands of balloons, tied to every lamppost and street sign and fire escape and tree branch. . . . Anything you could tie a balloon to, there were balloons tied to it.
I wondered if that was someone’s othersider ability; the power to summon up inflated balloons. If so, it seemed like a pretty useless ability. If not, a whole lot of people spent a hell of a long time affixing helium balloons for reasons unknown.
We’d been wandering the streets for hours, looking for “Destroy All Monsters” tags. We found plenty. Bright blue smears. And every one made me a little bit sicker. More scared. Monsters meant us. Othersiders. We were what people wanted to destroy.