Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
That’s what he’d told himself the night of the attack, and that’s what they’d been doing every day since. Now that they had made it this far, he could not be afraid of the sky.
—
HE JOINED HER ON THE SANDY BANK, searching in his pocket for a peso, and although they needed every bit of money they had, he tossed it into the barely moving river. It was an old ritual from Blanco, his home, meant to satisfy whatever spirits or fantasmas might lurk in the water. He didn’t know that he believed it, but it couldn’t hurt. They needed all the help they could get.
The coin dropped out of sight.
He took her hand and they both stepped into the water . . . deeper, deeper. It was surprisingly cold, rising to their waists and then chests, and he wrapped an arm around her as the bottom dropped suddenly away from their feet and then he was kicking them across, helping keep her head above the stinking water. Beneath the surface, the water moved faster than he’d imagined, and as the weight of their nearly empty packs pulled on him, filling with water, he felt for a heart-stopping moment like they were suspended above an impossibly deep hole, eager to suck their heavy bodies down. But just as quickly, his feet were touching the sandy bottom again and he’d regained his footing. They splashed out of the river on the other side beneath the very same sun they’d left behind them, and stumbled together into the high, green grass, and it was over.
Neva smiled, a true smile, and hugged him. There were bits of leaves and grass in her wet hair, and a smear of mud on her hands and face and she smelled like the water, but he couldn’t love her any more than he did or imagine anyone more beautiful.
He looked at the ground at his feet and realized he was farther away from his home than he’d ever been, and understood for the first time that he’d never return. He was finally, truly, a whole new world away.
His heart was both joyous and hurting, and he held Neva close so she wouldn’t see his tears and wouldn’t feel his own trembling.
He let them sit in the shadows of the high grass as their clothes dried in the hot air, and then he helped her up and told her it was time to go. They had to keep going, always going, because although they’d crossed the river, they hadn’t gotten anywhere at all.
Not anywhere truly safe.
And as before, they soon discovered others had come their way.
They found the same discarded bottles, shoes, clothes.
A rotted book.
A bicycle wheel.