BooksBarbecue
Back Rapture
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1.
  5. 2.
  6. 3.
  7. 4.
  8. 5.
  9. 6.
  10. 7.
  11. 8.
  12. 9.
  13. 10.
  14. 11.
  15. 12.
  16. 13.
  17. 14.
  18. 15.
  19. 16.
  20. 17.
  21. 18.
  22. 19.
  23. 20.
  24. 21.
  25. 22.
  26. 23.
  27. 24.
  28. 25.
  29. 26.
  30. 27.
  31. 28.
  32. 29.
  33. 30.
  34. 31.
  35. 32.
  36. 33.
  37. 34.
  38. 35.
  39. 36.
  40. 37.
  41. 38.
  42. 39.
  43. 40.
  44. 41.
  45. 42.
  46. 43.
  47. 44.
  48. 45.
  49. 46.
  50. 47.
  51. 48.
  52. 49.
  53. 50.
  54. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  55. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“I know,” Isabet said, and now she raised the stump of her arm. Her breath caught, and she choked on a sob. Squeezed her eyes shut.

“You’ll live,” Eshe said. “Just like your bloody-minded mother.”

“You’re one to talk about bloody-minded mothers.”

Eshe stood. He saw Eskander slipping under Khatijah’s burnous, wrapping her arms around her sister, and felt some lingering moment of loss, or maybe regret. Was he broken the way Nyx was? Would he ever be able to trust anyone the way Eskander did?

“Eshe?”

He sighed. “What?”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“It’s just the way things are,” Eshe said, and went off to scour the blood from his hands.

19.

Rhys woke to terrible heat. His throat was dusty, and his tongue felt swollen—three sizes too big. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids were caked in sand and mucus. Unfamiliar voices babbled around him. And there was some other sound droning on in the background—like the sigh of a ceaseless wind.

He tried to lift his hands to his face, and found that they were unbound for the first time in many days. He wiped the grit from his eyes and sat up in a pool of gray sand ringed in stone. He gazed beyond the ring and into a blinding, bustling desert city.

But it wasn’t a living city. Not one where humans lived, anyway. The rough and tumble ruins of the city were swarming with bugs. Bugs eating, nesting, excreting; rebuilding the city in their own image, for their own ends. Reclaiming it.

Octagonal towers of azure sand and rubble, thirty meters high, rose from the ruins and glittered like the backs of jeweled beetles. Any sane man would have guessed the towers were human made, but Rhys knew better. The flawless geometry of the towers had come from the insects. What kind of insect they were, he had no idea. They were massive, winged things, large as his head, with giant mandibles as long as his fingers. They swarmed the ruins like a pack of industrious dogs, occasionally hopping from the height of the towers and gliding to the ground on their broad, glossy wings.

His captors stood a few paces distant, at the edge of the gray stone circle. The women kept their heads and faces covered, more for protection for their lungs than modesty—he had seen more of their bodies during their trek across the blasted wasteland than he believed any but a Nasheenian would freely offer to a stranger’s eyes.