And people seemed to be making decisions. Standing up, dusting themselves off, stretching fingers to toe, and heading off in new directions. Take Sugar, take Darcy. Take even Thorn. Blenders. Suntan oil.
And though Thorn knew the carbon dioxide fumes and the methane and the ozone and all the rest of it had not been blown very far away, and though he was certain the pollution was already beginning to mount up again, still, for a while, the sky would be fresh. And for those few days he and Darcy and Sugar-man and Jack and the rest of them would be able to feast on that good rich air, breathing again the way they were always meant to breathe.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1989 by James W. Hall
cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa
978-1-4532-2599-8
This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media
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