The New Wild Read Online Free PDF Page A

sofa. It’s not a sofa, really,
but a Victorian-looking fainting couch covered in purple velvet. I’m so weary and
it looks so inviting that I do what I’m told. The room is interesting—no
television, no computers, just antique prints and paintings lining the walls. I
notice the ceiling is painted blue with tiny puffs of clouds. There’s a glass
pie stand on the side table to my left, and its ball lid is covering a bird’s
nest complete with little broken eggshells.
    I hear her rustling in the kitchen.
Shelf doors open and close, silverware tinkles against ceramic. I’m about to
pass out when she strides in with a plate full of food.
    “I’m sure glad I came across you,”
she says. “Fridge burned up pretty bad last night, so Elmira would’ve gone sour
before I could finish her.”
    “El — ?”
    “The turkey ,” she
says as if I should have known. “Sit up, child. I’ll not have you choking to
death on top of everything else.”
    Once again, I do as I’m told. All
I want is my mom to take care of me, and this is a welcome substitute.
Especially when everything’s literally crumbling around me.
    The plate is piled with dark
turkey meat, skin glistening, and Swiss chard cooked up in oil and nuts. It’s
all room temperature—“stove melted to cinders,” she says—and a fly
is circling over it, vulture-like.
    “Eat it slow,” she orders, and I
realize I’m digging in like a mongrel dog at a steak buffet. “ Chew ,”
she says again, sternly.
    When I come up for air, she hands
me a mug of water. “Down the hatch.”
    “Thank you,” I say, with a huge
exhale, “ so much .”
    “Like I said, you did me a favor.
Though, I guess my dogs’ll hate you for it.”
    The evening sun shines through her
leaded-glass windows, throwing little rainbows across the walls.
    When I’m finished eating, I instantly
feel better. I can think again. She watches me solemnly.
    “Thank you so much.” I repeat.
“I’m Jackie, by the way. I was at Camp Astor when…it happened.”
    Deb nods.
    “What do you think is going on?” I
say. My stomach is in knots. “Did you get carried up into the sky last night?
Did you feel the fire?” I ask, more than a little afraid of her answer. “What
the hell is happening to us?”
    “Yes, I did,” Deb says calmly,
which doesn’t make me feel better. “Look at the back of my legs. The hair got
singed right off!” She sticks one out to show me almost proudly.
    The front of Deb’s legs look like
they haven’t been shaved in, well, ever. But she’s right: the backs are
hairless, and the skin is pink, like it’s sunburned.
    “Well? What happened? What do you
think is going on?” I plead, looking straight in her eyes. “I heard some of my
favorite people in the world burn to their deaths last night, but today the
forest seems to be healthier and more alive than it’s ever been.”
    Deb sits back in her chair, a
faint smile spreading across her lips.
     “Well, I’ve got a good hunch
it’s Mother Earth,” she says plainly.
    “What?”
    “I always thought we would destroy
ourselves with terrorism or nuclear war. But nope, I think it was her. She’s had
enough. She gave us this life, and she can take it back, lickety-split.”
    I can’t believe my ears. She’s
really not thinking this through. I have a sinking feeling that the only other
living soul left is bat-shit crazy, and I feel alone again. “Let me get this
straight,” I say, nice and slow. “You think Mother Earth started a fire
that burned up all the Camp Astor kids and all the buildings and cars? You
think Mother Earth scooped us up into the sky and scared us out of our
wits? You think…” I stop for a second, for emphasis, “You think Mother Earth did that? You think Mother Earth is real?” The concept is so stupid and
silly it makes me want to laugh out loud.
    She raises her eyebrows. “Yes,”
she says, emphatic.
    “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, because
this is finally clicking in my head. “Why