Chapters (47)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Part Two
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Part Three
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Survive the Dome
- Prologue
- 6 Months Later
- One
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Governor Ambrose was not an expressive person. That was what the polls had said about her. How can a woman who doesn’t show any emotion be trusted? Then again, other polls had said, how can a woman who shows too much emotion be trusted? There was no way to win.
Right now, she wanted to jump up and scream. But instead, she sat quietly, reveling in her joy.
Project ADP was a success.
Her phone vibrated. She looked down, expecting to see a text applauding her victory. But instead, she was met with a simple message from her press secretary.
A trial date has been set.
6 Months Later
One
Today’s the day everything changes.
I go through my bag for the tenth time, making sure everything is neatly packed inside. Water bottle? Check. Candy? Check. Notepad and three pens? Check and check. And most importantly, my camera that uses actual film: check. I reach into the side pouch, feeling around and counting. Two extra batteries, just in case. That should be more than enough for tonight.
Zipping up my backpack, I slip on my most comfortable shoes—a pair of worn checkered slip-ons—and grab a light blue raincoat. Maryland in the summer can be as unpredictable as…well, weather, I guess. It might be seventy degrees now, a nice cool reprieve from the previous two weeks of ninety-plus days, but that doesn’t mean a sudden rainstorm isn’t coming.
“Better to be hot for a bit than soaked for hours,” I mutter. At worst, I’ll leave it in the car.
I pat around on the bed, feeling for my phone, and check it for messages: none. Biting my inner cheek in frustration, I pull up my text thread with Damien. No response since this morning.
Dozens of thoughts swirl through my head. Has he decided he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? Has he moved on to…what’s his name, Liam? Is he dead in a ditch somewhere?
Instead of getting swallowed by the pit of does Damien West like me or not, I pocket the phone and push it down, along with my worries.
He said he would join me. It was his idea to go. He’ll come, I tell myself. And that’s that.
Besides, I have bigger things to worry about right now.
Maybe I should just sneak out of the house. That might be easier, right? Better than having to deal with Mom right now. Or I could just run out quickly and say, “Heading out! Love you!” and leave before she can ask any questions or make me feel guilty.