If I’m going to put Voyageurs in Kindle Scout next month, I might as well give you a segment now to tweak your curiosity:
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px ‘Times New Roman’}
We stood outside a solarium, where we viewed a tree line of dead trees and towering plants with huge, decorative leaves. I strolled closer to one to touch one, and Ian grabbed my wrist and hissed, “Don’t touch that. It’s a giant hogweed, and it will permanently scar your skin. And possibly make you go blind.”
“Whoa,” I muttered. “Thanks for the tip.”
We walked to the solarium, and I noticed that the dirt was beyond cracked. No grass grew, and dust eddied at the slightest breeze. The air felt like a blast furnace. Even the sun looked hazy and malevolent.
“This is what a dying earth looks like. He opened the solarium door, which should have been locked but stood slightly ajar. Inside was Carlie, and she cradled a thick black book.
“Kat, come here,” Carlie said in a slightly rough voice. “I have a secret to tell you. Hurry.”
I studied the woman’s white, spiky hair, her cheekbones hollowed by disease and age, her wickedly defiant smile dressed up in old woman’s dress —
I hurried over, although I knew what she would say before I heard it, because I knew her more closely than anyone could.
My mouth must have hung open. “Oh, yes,” she said with a chuckle. “You do recognize yourself, don’t you?” She regarded me with ice blue eyes, the same as I regarded her with.
I held her hand for a moment and savored the rare moment of meeting myself, not knowing whether I would be crushed or boomeranged, not caring.
My vision grew dark and I felt drawn through a tiny hole …
Words Like Me 