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Chapters (49)
  1. Cover
  2. Farewell Summer
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. Almost Antietam
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Shiloh and Beyond
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Appomattox
  43. Chapter Thirty-Six
  44. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  45. Afterword
  46. FAREWELL SUMMER
  47. Also By Ray Bradbury
  48. Copyright
  49. About The Publisher

Solemnly, the martyrs tilted their bottles.

‘Lucky crawfish.’ Charlie Woodman slung his bottle at a rock. They all threw their bottles, like Germans after a toast, the glass crashing in bright splinters.

They unwrapped the melting chocolate and butter chip and almond frivolities. Their teeth parted, their mouths watered. But their eyes looked to their general.

‘I solemnly pledge from now on: no candy, no pop, no poison.’

Douglas let his chocolate chunk drop like a corpse into the water, like a burial at sea.

Douglas wouldn’t even let them lick their fingers.

Walking out of the ravine, they met a girl eating a vanilla ice cream cone. The boys stared, their tongues lolling. She took a cold dollop with her tongue. The boys blinked. She licked the cone and smiled. Perspiration broke out on a half dozen faces. One more lick, one more jut of that rare pink tongue, one more hint of cool vanilla ice cream and his army would revolt. Sucking in a deep breath, Douglas cried: ‘Git!’

The girl spun around and ran.

Douglas waited for the memory of the ice cream to fade, then said, quietly, ‘There’s ice water at Grandma’s. March!’

II.

Shiloh and Beyond

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Calvin C. Quartermain was an edifice as tall, long, and as arrogant as his name.

He did not move, he stalked.

He did not see, he glared.

He spoke not, but fired his tongue, point–blank, at any target come to hand.

He orated, he pronounced, he praised not, but heaped scorn.

Right now he was busy shoving bacteria under the microscope of his gold–rimmed spectacles. The bacteria were the boys, who deserved destruction. One boy, especially.

‘A bike, sweet Christ, a damn blue bike! That’s all it was!’

Quartermain bellowed, kicking his good leg.

‘Bastards! Killed Braling! Now they’re after me!’

A stout nurse trussed him like a cigar store Indian while Dr. Lieber set the leg.

‘Christ! Damned fool. What was it Braling said about a metronome? Jesus!’

‘Leg’s broke, easy!’

‘He needs more than a bike! A damned hell–fire device won’t kill me, no!’

The nurse shoved a pill in his mouth.

‘Peace, Mr C., peace.’

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Night, in Calvin C. Quartermain’s lemon-sour house, and him in bed, discarded long ago, when his youth breeched the carapace, slid between his ribs, and left his shell to flake in the wind.

Quartermain twisted his head and the sounds of the summer night breathed through the air. Listening, he chewed on his hatred.

‘God, strike down those bastard fiends with fire!’

Sweating cold, he thought: Braling lost his brave fight to make them human, but I will prevail. Christ, what’s happening?