Read Online Falling Sky by James Patrick Riser - Free Book Online

her dark hair and let it drop to her shapely hips.
    â€œThis is Ian,” Wasley answered, “the other one who’s had the nightmare.”
    The woman approached the table with a causal gait, pulled out a chair and sat. She laced her black gloved hands together and rested them on the table. A purple scarf hung around her neck and cascaded gracefully down her right arm. “I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
    â€œThis is our friend, Katsuni.” Wasley motioned to the thin woman with an upraised hand.
    Ian bowed his head and mumbled, “Nice to meet you.”
    â€œWell, Ian,” Wasley began, “let me tell you what you need to know.”

Chapter Thirteen
    Michael slung a backpack over this muscular shoulder and looked to his father, who occupied a worn arm chair. “I don’t know how this house lasted the way it did.” As if cued by the statement, the house’s foundation groaned loudly.
    â€œIt won’t be long now.” his father sighed, folded up the newspaper in his hand and rose from his chair. Its ancient springs creaked mournfully. “What part of construction are you starting today?”
    â€œWe’re still setting up the ventilation system to keep The Dust from entering the mines.” Michael turned toward the door and placed his hand on the cold, sliver knob. “It’s impossible to filter the stuff from the atmosphere, but maybe we can keep it out of the underground tunnels. We have to make sure it’s gone before we begin construction.”
    â€œIt must be a big system then,” his father remarked distantly.
    â€œIt’s huge,” Michael replied with a wide grin on his face. “There are several different buildings that house these giant fans and air filters. Pretty fancy stuff.”
    â€œWhat’s going to stop the dust from collapsing those buildings?”
    â€œA dome made from this thick material will be set over the site, and the The Dust will be filtered out from there.” In his excitement, Michael let his hand drop from the door knob as he faced his father.
    â€œWhy can’t they use that same material to protect the cities?” His father dropped the newspaper on a nearby end table. A torrent of dust and cobwebs twisted into the air.
    â€œIt’s very expensive, and experimental. We don’t even know if this project will be successful.”
    â€œI still don’t want to live underground; I’d rather wait up here and let the house collapse on me.” He father fell back into the chair.
    â€œAt least we’re trying something.”
    â€œYes, something,” his father said, “instead of figuring out ways to save the world we took several lifetimes to build, we’re going to turn tail and burrow ourselves underground.” His fingers dug into the soft fabric of the chair’s arms.
    â€œWe don’t have any other choice.”
    â€œYeah.” his father sighed. “I know.” He looked deflated as his grip on the chair relaxed and his body sank further into its cushions.
    Michael looked at his watch. “I have to be going now.” He glanced back at his father and realized that the man had been defeated by The Dust. The chemical eroded hope, and when it happened something broke inside of him.
    â€œI know. Do your part, son.” A ghost of a smile touched his father’s lips.
    â€œThanks, Dad.” Michael turned the knob and walked out.
    * * * *
    The city bus pulled into the construction site and halted in front of the tent that served as the worker’s break area. Michael filed out with the large group and shuffled under the tent. He placed his back pack under one of the tables with everyone else’s belongings and began an uphill walk to the actual work zone. As he neared the crest of the hill, Michael saw a man-made valley of dried dirt. Several squat, one story buildings lined the outskirts. They surrounded a massive, square