Book & Author Details:
Caroline A. Gill
(The Flykeeper Chronicles, #2)
Publication date: May 21st 2016
Genres: Dystopia, Paranormal, Young Adult
In a broken America, seventeen-year old Iolani Bearse encounters a world full of wonder and danger.
Lani discovers a secret: houseflies have magic.
Stealers have no mercy.
Armed with memory-draining lanterns, the stone-cold hunters relentlessly follow catastrophes, laying traps, preying on the weak.
Together with her father, Eleanor, Sam, and Mango, her beloved pinto mare, Lani rescues victims from the grasp of Memory Stealers. One by one, she saves whomever she can, looking for any path that leads to safety. When her family’s farmhouse is attacked, Lani must act quickly to save those she loves.
Can Lani unmask their powerful, hidden enemies before the flies’ magic fails and everything burns to ashes?
Will the loss of one of her greatest friends become her downfall?
Can Lani overcome the evil that is tearing her world apart, flying blind?
Al opened up the notebook paper. Smoothing out the thin, blue lines with his big hands, still it took him a few moments to read the only sentence written on the folded note:
Stealers gonna win! Running option only choice. Third down and long. Run!
Al looked at the words. Some sense of alarm swelled in the back of his memory. “Stealers? Pittsburgh S-T-E-E-L-E-R-S, that’s the team name, right?”
Cheesie nodded vigorously.
“Then why—why’d you spell it wrong, here? You wrote S-T-E-A-L-E-R-S? Can’t you spell? Jeez!” Al was irritated. Really irritated. And that made no sense either.
Cheesie whined a bit. Then like flipping a pancake over, anger and bitterness covered his face. With very little of the irritation he felt held back, Cheesie retorted, “Why you gonna go and be such a jerk? Huh, Jim? Why?”
Cheesie was mad. Al was mad. No one knew who the hell Jim was.
Cheesie’s good mood deflated. “If,” Al’s roommate said, trying not to cry, “If you don’t want to play, you could just say so. It’s important to me. I don’t have time for this!” Grabbing the crinkled paper from Al’s big hands, the pathetic lunatic opened the door, ready to storm off and shed his disappointment watching Singing in the Train, or Throw Momma from the Rain, or whatever crap was playing in the front living area.
A green light filled the hallway.
Everything stopped. “That light shouldn’t be there. It shouldn’t be here? Should it? Al? Should it?” Even pissed off, Cheesie stood real still for a breath or two. Then he turned slowly, slower than Al had ever seen the hamster man move.
Across the room, Al felt a deep, bubbling fear.
Startled, Cheesie shut the door, gentle as he could, firm and swift. Now that they listened, the roommates realized that there were no other sounds. Nothing. Not in all the other rooms, not from any of the other seventy patients or “fellows” as they were constantly told to call each other. There was no sound except Doris Day singing “Que Será, Será” somewhere down the long hallway.
There should have been sounds. This place was full of the crazies. The screamers and the jello lickers wouldn’t have stopped, not for nothing.
“Can you hear it?” Cheesie whispered.
Al didn’t know. The green light … it was familiar. “I’ve seen that light before. I’ve seen it before, Cheesie. I know that light. I know it—” They looked at each other. Then, Cheesie and Al slowly backed away from the hollow door. Green light filtered underneath it.
Death stood outside.
Unusual stories attract me, ones in which the reader cannot easily see the ending or most of the journey. Visiting Rome during university studies, I found a simple truth sitting on buses, traveling all over the ancient city: the joy is in the Journey, in the people I meet, not in the destination. So, I write for you. I write for sanity. I write for chocolate and really good pizza.