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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

And this time, when I looked through the lens, I really looked. Focused on the swirling black ink in the air around him. Blocked out everything else, until the shiver of my spine was all I felt. Watched the ink expand, take on concrete shapes. His damage, his demons. His darkest moments. I could use what I saw.

Night. Ski mask on his head, gloves on his hands. Spray-painting a line of dark blue swastikas along the back of Judy Saperstein’s house.

“Hey, have you seen Judy lately?” I asked.

His jaw dropped. Panic filled his eyes, and then was replaced by anger.

I pressed the shutter. Click.

“No,” he said.

“Got the shot,” I said, and waved my hand dismissively. “Your turn, Hector.”

And so on, down the line. By the eighth player we had hit a groove. Their awkwardness was gone, replaced by a kind of impatient boredom. Which was good. A place of frustration to start from, when they stepped in front of me.

I could see so much more, now. Which ones were monsters, and which were just scared little boys trying their hardest to be men. The shiver in my spine—the visions through my lens—they were under my control.

They all left, when I was done with them. The crowd shrank fast. Connor was the very last in line. It was only me and him and Sheffield—and Solomon, somewhere. Watching us, I felt certain.

“Hey,” Connor said, taking his place before me. The first word he’d said to me, since I left his house that night. I had been angry before that, at his complicity in the Induction Ceremony scheme, and then ashamed of how I might have hurt him. Now I felt only sadness for him. Because he was such a sweet and kind person—now. But Sheffield was already at work on him, and so was the whole horrible world. Sweetness and kindness were so easily broken. Crushed into oblivion.

“Hey,” I said.

His smile was weak, thin. Forced. Proud. Sad. I took a single shot of him. Trying my hardest not to tap into my ability. It switched off easily, and I saw only Connor. “That’s perfect,” I said, and smiled back. My smile broadened his, made it real—wide and happy.

“Goodbye, Sheffield,” I said, turning to him.

He blinked, startled at being dismissed, and then recovered. Sheepish, calculated grin. “Later, Ash. Seems like it was a success, yeah?”

“You did good. Thanks for your help.”

We eyed each other, for a second or six, before he saluted and turned to go to his car.

“Why are you helping me?” I called.