Saving Emily Dickinson

IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING, WHAT WOULD YOU SAVE? APRIL 22nd-23rd, 2044: twin coronal mass ejections shear off the earth's upper atmosphere, turning North America into an irradiated wasteland. LATE SEPTEMBER, 2046: As humanity fights extinction, London Yardley ekes out an existence on the plains of Nebraska with her reclusive father, her inventive little brother, and a golden retriever mix named Emily Dickinson. Despite her father's warnings not to leave the perimeter, London has begun to cycle the country roads late at night, desperate to escape the isolation and pointlessness of her life. Not until pirates steal Emily Dickinson does she begin to map those roads, setting out on a quest that will put her on a collision course with evil.EXCERPT: For an ex-Green Beret--correction--veteran of the Special Forces, London's father looked oddly like an old hippy. His shaggy brown hair was tied down by a red bandana rolled into a strip. His eyes, silvery with cataracts, were hidden by thick, tinted trifocals. His sight had always been bad, even before 4/22, but the UV damage done to his eyes on that fateful day had left him ninety-five percent blind.Her father never complained about his vision. Watching him eat his dinner, wiping hazelnut oil off his plate with a chunk of spam on his fork, you would think he got along fine without it. But Hollis Yardley bitterly cursed his loss of sight, and limited himself only to those activities he could without it: disassembling and reassembling guns, talking to Gary Johnson on his radio, and doing jigsaw puzzles down in his basement lair. "I have an announcement to make," he said, lifting his fork. "Gary called on the CB today with some news. Says there's another outbreak of plague in Kansas City. You know what that means. More walkers. You two? Going to stay inside these next two weeks." Boone shot London a worried glance, their rescue mission so immediately quashed. His lip quivered in protest. "How does Gary Johnson know?"Hollis reached to the cupboard, drew forth an unlabeled can of food, and peeled off the lid. "Heard it on his long-wave." he said. London snorted. "He hears a lot on his long wave. What ever happened to his robots? The ones that were supposed to take over the earth?"Hollis frowned, swallowed a spoonful of black-eyed peas. Bean juice dribbled down his beard. "We all need to be more careful. You forget that we have higher susceptibility to infectious disease thanks to these bitching solar storms."London sighed loudly. "And we have plenty of work to do around the house," Hollis added. "Plenty of reading to do." He nodded to the corner, to a chest overflowing with books. Four stacks of National Geographic magazines, the complete works of Tolkien, a cinder block of a book called Practical Mechanics for Farmers, and an entire twenty-two-book stack of ancient World Book Encyclopedias. "If you must leave the house," Hollis said, "you can fortify the perimeter. The Osage trees down by the Luff's farm should be full of deadfall right now." He scraped the bottom of the bean can with his spoon, chewed the last bite, then froze, remembering something. "And another thing," he said, tilting his trifocals at London. "No more excursions on your bike." Rage rocketed up her spine. How did he know? For the last week he hadn't even left the basement except for dinner. Had Gary Johnson seen her? No. Gary was even more reclusive than her dad. "London?" Hollis leaned in, waiting for her to look at him. "Is that clear?" He took off his glasses, showing the shiny cataracts which gave his eyes the impassive, steely gaze of an android movie villain. "You are not to go looking for that dog."