Boneshaker

She was thirty-five, and she did not look a minute younger.

In California there were nuggets the size of walnuts lying on the ground—or so it was said, and truth travels slowly when rumors have wings of gold.

The sound came again. There was a whistle to it, and a moan. It was almost a hiss, and it could’ve been a strangled gasp. Above all, it was quiet, and it seemed to have no source. It whispered.

He stayed close, and he stayed quiet. It was easy to do, almost; the silence above was so alarmingly complete that it was easier to keep it than to break it.

Sure he’s dead, and it’s a good thing for us. It’s hard to argue with a dead man. A dead man can’t change his mind or make new rules, or behave like a bastard so no one will listen to him anymore. A dead man stays a saint.

Sometimes, everyone is right. Not always and not even usually, but once in a while, everyone is right.

So here's the rules - keep quiet, keep close, and if we're spotted, climb like a goddamned monkey…If I get picked off, you don't come back for me. If I see you get picked off, I aint coming back for you. Life's hard. Death's easy

Boys disobey their parents with such great regularity that it’s barely worth a comment; and if yours is talented enough to rebel in such grand fashion, then you ought to consider it a point of pride that he’s such a sharp lad.

He hadn’t found what he’d meant to find, but his need to swipe and hoard something had been appeased for now.

I’ve got a lot of wishes about it, but you know what they say. ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.’” “I’ve never heard that before in my life, and I’m not sure I even know what it means.” “It means that you could spit in one hand and wish in the other, and we all know which hand’ll fill up quicker.