Jennifer Lee Carrell · 432 pages
Rating: (6.4K votes)
“That the good that we do might live on after us, while the evil lies interred with their bones.”
“Right, then.” He pointed across to a bank of phones against the wall. “If you want to check your voice mail, now’s the time.”
“Where’s my phone?”
“Out of service.”
“It was fine in the car.”
“It’s not fine now.”
“What’d you do to it?”
“Put it out of our misery. I’m sorry, Kate. But every minute it’s on, you’re traceable to within the length of a football field, anywhere on the planet.”
“If you don't want the nickname, don't live up to it.”
“An ancient mustiness padded the air, tinged with with an acrid scent-a trace of the war between paper and oxygen, played out in slow inexorable burn that would one day crumble this empire to dust." -page 62”
“I doubt if he himself leaks even enough to piss more than once a year on his birthday,”
“For so many, death is a liberation from intolerable human conditions.”
“He was the only person awake, but he might as well have been alone and dreaming.”
“The silence was oddly comfortable, broken by the clink of cutlery and passing of the dishes. She was torn between joining them at the table or shunning them as she’d done in the past. Finally she sat down, Red Shirt across from her. His plate was full, but he made no move to eat. Instead his tan fingers toyed with the knife and fork, turning them over as if contemplating what to do next. He shot a glance at her, lingering on her hands as she draped a napkin across her lap and took up her own utensils. Was he trying to copy her . . . perhaps please her? His hesitancy was so touching she swallowed down the ache in her throat with a forkful of potato. He followed with a forkful of his own and eyed her as she picked up her knife. He did the same, but slowly, cutting his meat by pinning it properly with his fork first. She could feel Pa’s eyes on them both—no doubt he was enjoying their peculiar interaction. At the end of the table sat Surrounded, missing nothing, but shunning utensils as was his custom.”
“Mickey Mouse is just a rat in suspenders.”
“This is real. This is what's important to me now. I'm not worried about the future, whatever it brings. I have all I need, right here.”
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