Book Title: Hunger Strike: The Road of Bones
Author: T.J. Pike
Publisher: Gnaw Publishing
Release Date: November 20, 2020
Genre/s: Dystopian, YA, sci-fi/fantasy
Trope/s: Reluctant Hero
Themes: Friendship, family, freedom versus oppression
Length: 95 391 words
It is book 1 in a series of 4
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The road must have its blood
Blurb
Hunger Strike, The Road of Bones drops you two centuries into the future. The moon has been sheared in two, much of the Earth is a wasteland, and the world is ruled over by witches and sorcerers with cruelty and indifference. When the town of Endly is threatened by the tinkerer and his army of animorphs, sixteen-year-old Hunger Strike, alongside his best friend, Winda, and his adopted brother, Denver, devises a plan to move thousands of its residents across the treacherous wilds, in the hopes of finding a new home within the borders of a strange land far to the west, known only as The Weird Wood.
My mother likes to sit with her back to the door so that she isn’t distracted by the goings on outside, so I slide that chair out for her, and then I place the fresh bread on the table, alongside the stew and the butter. Denver sits to her right, and I take a seat at the table opposite her.
“This looks lovely, Hunger,” she says.
My mouth falls open. She spoke my name. “Th-thanks,” I say.
And then she looks at Denver. “And you as well, little man,” she says with a wink.
Might she be recovering? I push the thought from my mind, and I decide to just enjoy this time with her. I jump up and pull wine from the cabinet, pouring a glass each, and then we feast. When the pot is empty, our bellies full, we laugh and joke. Denver talks about school, how he hates it and how he wants to scavenge like me. My mother tells us stories of fighting slavers, impeccables and even trolls out in the wilds. I’m not sure if I believe her, but I enjoy them just the same.
She’s just finished telling us about a fat slaver that she stabbed in the butt with her sword, and Denver’s laughing so hard he’s crying, and then three buttons pop off his shirt. That instigates another raucous round of laughter.
“You should change your shirt, Denver,” my mother says as the laughter dissipates.
He jumps up from the table, pecks her on the cheek, and then he excuses himself, shuffling off to the bedroom to change. This has been a good night, but then the smile fades from my mother’s face and she looks across the table at me.
“He’s gone and died, hasn’t he?” she says.
My smile vanishes. Of course, I know now that she knows. The mood in the kitchen turns dark.
“Yes,” I say.
There’s a moment of quiet between us. I suppose she’s processing the reality of my answer. I had never met the man and yet, the news was a blow to me. I can’t begin to know how she must be feeling. Then my mother glances over her shoulder at the door.
“She’s coming, Hunger,” she says in a calm voice.
“Who?” I say, leaning forward, a sense of urgency in my voice. “Who’s coming, momma?”
“She’s here.”
The door shatters inwards – glass, concrete, and a thousand wooden daggers spray the kitchen with a ferocious force, stabbing the cabinets and splintering against the far wall behind me. A blur passes over my head, and then I react. I dive across the table, sliding on my belly – scattering dishes, silverware and candles in my path – lunging for my mother, throwing her to the floor, shielding her with my body.
When it’s over, a stringy mist hangs in the hole that was our doorway. I smile and look down at my mother. She smiles back at me.
“You’re okay,” I say. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
She winces. “You must lead them away, Hunger,” she whispers. “There’s a place, far to the west of here. The Weird Wood is its name. It’s a place of great power. Billy will help you. It will take-,” she winces, “-take some convincing, but she’ll come around.”
“L-lead who away?” I say, my heart thumping, my mind is spinning. Something is terribly wrong. “What are you talking about, momma?”
“You’ll be t-tested,” she chokes out. “But your – your father always said it would be you.”
“Tested?”
“Your friends, they are your strength,” she says, digging her nails into my arms.
“I-I have only one friend, you know that,” I say.
“And Winda is your most valuable ally, Hunger, heed her words,” she says, a smile coming to her lips, but the next instant the smile fades. “There’s a map. It’s your father’s. Remember what you called bumblebees when you were little?”
I swallow, choking back a laugh, my eyes watery. “Yes,” I say. “Of course.”
“Tap twice and say your words,” she says. “Remember that.”
She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Something is terribly wrong. “Tap what? Momma, stop speaking like this, please – I –
“Listen to me, none can remain here,” she says, urgently. “If they do, they’ll all…they will all die.” Her eyes fill with tears. “T-tell her I’m s-sorry.”
“Queen Billy?” I say breathlessly.
But then she takes one long shuddering breath. Her chest heaves and a single drop of blood trickles down from the right corner of her mouth. The light in her dark eyes dulls. But this can’t be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “M-momma? You’re alright. I saved you.”
And then I see the steam rising from a crimson puddle growing across the tile floor from beneath her. I sit up, put her head in my lap, my hands searching her body for a wound. They find the pointy end of a thick wooden splinter sticking out of her flowery dress, just above her heart. The distance between us is a single heartbeat. The words echo in my mind and a tear travels down my cheek.
“Oh, look the floor is red!” A shrill voice says. “I think I went and made her dead!”
I look up. A short, plump woman with tight, blond curls is standing in the hole that was the doorway, a smile on her toad-like face. My jaw clenches. She’s gripping a wand in her left hand, but I don’t give a damn. There’s murder in my heart. I lunge at her anyways.
T.J. Pike has been writing since splashing down on this tiny blue marble in late 1986, when a native of the planet observed what a brilliant liar he was. “You should either write a book or go into politics,” the woman was heard to say. Having been a VIP guest at the White House several thousand times over the past hundred years, he chose the former. Hand cramps, cold feet and early mornings soon inspired him to invent the computer, wool socks and coffee, though not in that order. Pike is currently number one on the Epsilon Delta Bestsellers list, and if you visit the Planet Arkon, you can find a bronze statue of him in the alleyway behind Smirk’s Liquor Mart, just to the left of the dumpster. Dubbed the most prolific story-teller of his time by Deckon-the-deceiver, Pike currently resides in New England, where he spends his days in the clouds, atop his dragon, Dinky, only stopping to allow her to feed on the occasional villager or two.
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