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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

Metal clanged, wherever he was. A loud buzzer sounded. I started to get a bad feeling. “Solomon. Tell me where you are.”

“I’m in jail,” he said, and laughed, not like it was funny, but like he could hear how ridiculous the situation was. “I’m breaking the rules right now. I already used my one phone call. But these people are pretty bad at their jobs. They just left me in the hallway where the phone is. I could make all kinds of calls. What’s the number for the Psychic Hotline, do you know?”

“In jail?” I said, too loudly, before my rational mind kicked in and I dialed back the panic. If I got upset, so would he. Emotions were contagious like that. “What happened?”

“I ran into Bobby,” he said. “At Fairview Plaza.”

“Oh, honey, no,” I said. The little psychopath who almost set me on fire—there was no way that interaction went well.

“He started it.”

“It doesn’t matter!” I said.

“Anyway I beat the shit out of him.”

“Solomon, you—”

“They’re coming,” he said. “I gotta go. I called my aunt but she didn’t answer. So I don’t know what they’re going to do with me.”

“Don’t tell them anything until you have a lawyer,” I said, finally thankful for all the awful cop shows my mother watched, which I’d absorbed by osmosis. “They have to provide one for you, even if you can’t pay for it. Better yet, just don’t speak. To anyone. I’m coming. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

“Breathe, Solomon. Don’t get stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” he said. “And I’m not sorry.”

I had to chuckle at that. At his strength, his bravery—his ignorance, his naïveté. And then there was a harsh boom, as someone slammed the receiver down. It rang in my ears like thunder.

Thirty-Six

Solomon

For most of the day it was almost like everything was normal. We walked; we ate; we talked to strangers. Only a few charred tree skeletons gave any indication that anything unusual had happened in Darkside the night before.

The thunder endlessly booming in the distance should have been enough to set us on edge. Keep us from getting too comfortable. Like the storm was toying with us, biding its time, waiting to rush in and flood us out.

One minute we were in the central market, trying to decide which noodle vendor to go to, and the next minute we were running for our lives.