Ranger Lone, alone in the world except for his friend Annalore, have found they are lost in a world that has become Tumbledown.
People are becoming infected with a disease that makes them become uncontrollably violent before death. And after th...
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I don't know when the end really began, all I know is when it started for me.
I had fallen asleep after a long night on the couch while watching TV. I would have usually put on an audiobook or music or something while organizing my collection, but there was a true crime marathon running all night, and I didn't want to miss it.
After three long hours of nothing but stories about how disgruntled employees killed their bosses out of revenge and a whole pot of coffee, seven years of collecting, rocks, minerals and gems had been resorted. Granted, it probably took longer due to the fact I'd stop for at least ten minutes every twenty or so just to watch the TV.
Still, not like I had anything else to do. Not anymore.
After snapping the latches on my rock box (a repurposed jewelry box) I made my way to the kitchen to refill my cup with the last of the coffee in the pot. I stopped half way into the kitchen, not moving a muscle, listening. Nothing. The tv had the volume turned all the way down, the house was completely silent. Empty.
Five years ago it would have been different, I'd at least hear my mom and dad talking, or them doing something, anything together. Three months ago I would have at least heard my dad doing something, maybe his voice if he muttered to himself. Now, if I wasn't making any noise, the house was empty of sound. When was the last time I spoke to someone in here? When Clover called last week, when I cursed after I stubbed my toe on the chair. The house was hollow, with only the memory of voices.
I never realized how loud silence could be.
While in the kitchen, I glanced out the window towards Annalore's house. The back porch light was still on, offering a pool of orange-yellow light in the endless wall of pitch black outside reaching all the way to the front of my garage.
Which is when I started to question if I had actually locked the garage door. And, as usual, I couldn't fully remember if I had or was just trying to tell myself I had. I considered letting it go but knew I couldn't.
Last week, one of my neighbours, Mr. Fanklin had gone around asking everyone on the street if we had seen anyone suspicious around his house lately since the previous night someone broke into his shed in his backyard and stole all his skiing gear.
I didn't own any skiing gear or any real outdoor equipment, but my truck was inside, plus the hundred-dollar bill I had hidden inside it in case I needed gas in an emergency. And I didn't really want to lose that. Not right now.
So, reluctantly I grabbed a pair of shoes and made my way outside and across the backyard to check if I had. Only to find that I had locked the door, Great.
I turned to head back inside the house, only to stop for a brief second when I noticed someone standing on Annalore's porch.
