By Sophie Littlefield
Awakening in a bleak panorama, Cass greenback vaguely remembers enduring anything negative. Having no thought what number days--or weeks--have handed, she slowly realizes the scary fact: her daughter, Ruthie, has vanished. And together with her, the vast majority of civilization. rather than winding during the once-lush hills, the roads at the present time see basically cannibalistic Beaters--people grew to become hungry for human flesh by way of a central authority scan long past wrong.
In a damaged, barren California, Cass will endure a harrowing quest to get Ruthie again. Few humans belief an outsider--much much less person who bears the telltale scars of a Beater attack--but she unearths security with an enigmatic outlaw, Smoke. And she'll desire him greater than ever whilst his ragged band of survivors research that she and Ruthie became the main feared, and wanted, guns in a courageous new world....
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Extra resources for Aftertime
It wasn’t so much that she believed children should be seen and not heard, but just that she didn’t hear what she didn’t want to. Julianne clapped her hands. ” Missy looked up at her, shocked by this intrusion. No one ever told Missy Jackson what to do, particularly not the hired help; she had a bit of the Bad Seed in her. But her astonishment was momentary. She whispered a bit louder, “He says he didn’t. ” Again Julianne clapped her hands, but this time on the table so that everyone was rattled.
She’ll go into conniptions,” he whispered. I didn’t know why he was 47 Douglas Clegg NEVERLAND Find Out More… whispering when no one else was outside with us, nobody was on the porch, and, as far as I knew, our mothers were upstairs with the baby and both our fathers were down at the Footlong Nightcrawlers–Live Bait store over to the West Island; Grammy Weenie couldn’t hear much, and Julianne and my sisters were already halfway down the steep path that ran down the bluff to the shore. But Sumter kept his finger pressed against his lips to shush me until we were farther into the scraggly woods.
I know because I was there and the jar narrowly missed my head—three inches, if at all—and running barefoot across the landing, I cut my feet on the glass. I reminded Sumter of his participation in stealing the preserves; he was always making up stories to suit his version of things. He smirked, flicking the last of the preserves in my direction. ” Even this wouldn’t have gone over with Sumter, because there was a popular mythology among the Lee side of the family that other people couldn’t hold their liquor, but the Lees had no problem.
Aftertime by Sophie Littlefield