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Back Destroy All Monsters Save as PDF
Chapters (79)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sixty
  64. Sixty-One
  65. Sixty-Two
  66. Sixty-Three
  67. Sixty-Four
  68. Sixty-Five
  69. Sixty-Six
  70. Sixty-Seven
  71. Sixty-Eight
  72. Sixty-Nine
  73. Seventy
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. Praise for Destroy All Monsters
  77. Books by Sam J. Miller
  78. Back Ad
  79. About the Publisher

I knew none of that was real. I knew the 1950s was a pretty shitty time for most people. But I got it, why folks wanted to pretend like those were the good old days. Because Connor seemed to exist in that alternate reality where the world wasn’t a wretched place full of awful people. It made me happy just to be close to it.

And then I pulled up in front of my house, and the bubble popped.

Because there was Solomon, sitting on my front porch, strumming a guitar. And as happy as I was to see him, I was also superworried. Because Connor tended to freak Solomon out.

“I didn’t know he played the guitar,” Connor said, his voice so much smaller already.

I nodded. “Writes songs, too. He’s pretty good.”

I parked. Got out.

“Ash, hey!” Solomon said, waving, standing up, and I saw the precise second when his smile cracked, when he caught sight of Connor.

“Solomon!” Connor cheered, waving, and it hurt my heart, to see him run toward his stepbrother, to see how Solomon stiffened, to see Connor give him a big, hard hug anyway, and to see Solomon finally relent, soften, hug him back. Shut his eyes. Smile.

They’re both big boys. But standing next to Solomon made Connor seem like a little boy again.

“Missed you, man,” Connor said. “You never come to see me.”

“Sorry,” Solomon said. “I know how busy you are. With the team and all.”

Team or not, Solomon had always felt weird around Connor. I’d tried to get to the bottom of it before. Was it guilt? Jealousy? Inadequacy? Whatever it was, it was deep, and it was getting worse. They used to be able to have an actual conversation, but now Solomon was already shambling down the walkway, saying how he had to head down to the docks, and Connor and I exchanged a quick, weird glance because there are no docks in Hudson, nor anywhere near Hudson.

“Solomon!” Connor called.

His stepbrother stopped. Turned around. Showed us all the pain that was on his face, so that as soon as Connor spoke again I wished I could snap my fingers, stop the words from ever having been said.

“I feel like you hate me,” Connor said, his voice sounding as low and small as a six-year-old’s. “And I don’t know why.”

Solomon didn’t answer, not right away. Stared at his hands like he couldn’t get his head around what he’d done.

“Neither do I,” he said, and turned and ran.

We watched him go, and we didn’t speak for a long time after that. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind.

“You want a ride home?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Connor said. “I’m sorry.”