Chapters (92)
- Other Books by this Author
- Title Page
- Dedication
- The Worst Dream in the World
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- The Year of Zero
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- The Last City
- Chapter Eighteen
- All Eyes
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Girl from Nowhere
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- The Night of Blades and Stars
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- The Darklands
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- The Haven
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- The Last Expeditionary
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Chapter Sixty
- Chapter Sixty-One
- The Angel of the Mountain
- Chapter Sixty-Two
- Chapter Sixty-Three
- Chapter Sixty-Four
- Chapter Sixty-Five
- Chapter Sixty-Six
- Chapter Sixty-Seven
- Chapter Sixty-Eight
- Chapter Sixty-Nine
- Chapter Seventy
- The New Thing
- Chapter Seventy-One
- Chapter Seventy-Two
- Chapter Seventy-Three
- Chapter Seventy-Four
- Postscript - Roswell Road
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Copyright
“Michael is wrong,” the girl stated. Her voice was neither a woman’s nor a child’s but something in between. She spoke flatly, without intonation, as if she were reading the words from a book. “There aren’t forty million.”
Peter wanted to laugh or cry, he didn’t know which. After everything, for her to speak now!
“Amy, why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I am sorry. I think I had forgotten how.” She was frowning inwardly, as if puzzling over this thought. “But now I have remembered.”
Everyone fell silent again, gaping at her in astonishment.
“So, if there aren’t forty million,” Michael ventured, “how many are there?”
She lifted her eyes to them all.
“Twelve,” said Amy.
The Last Expeditionary
IX
THE LAST
EXPEDITIONARY
I am all the daughters of my father’s house, And all the brothers too.
—SHAKESPEARE,
Twelfth Night
Chapter Fifty-Six
![]()
FIFTY-SIX
From the Journal of Sara Fisher (“The Book of Sara”)
Presented at the Third Global Conference on the North American Quarantine Period
Center for the Study of Human Cultures and Conflicts
University of New South Wales, Indo-Australian Republic
April 16–21, 1003 A.V.
[Excerpt begins.]
… and that was when we found the orchard—a welcome sight, since none of us has had anything like enough to eat since three days ago, when Hollis shot the deer. Now we are loaded up with apples. They’re small and wormy and if you eat too many of them all at once you get cramps, but it’s good to have a full belly again. We’re bedding down tonight in a rusted metal shed that’s full of old cars and stinks like pigeons. It seems we’ve lost the road for good now, but Peter says that if we continue walking straight east, we should hit Highway 15 in a day or so. The map we found at the gas station in Caliente is all we have to go by.