Aprilynne Pike

Earthbound


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       To Scott, whose high level of dedication to my research was NOT appreciated. Still cheering for you every day.

      Table of Contents

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Chapter Thirty-Four

       Chapter Thirty-Five

       Chapter Thirty-Six

       Chapter Thirty-Seven

       Chapter Thirty-Eight

       Chapter Thirty-Nine

       Chapter Forty

       Acknowledgments

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

      CHAPTER ONE

      I remember the plane going down.

      Not the crash exactly, but the moments before—and while it must have been only moments, when I look back, it takes much longer.

      I was sitting with my forehead pressed against the tiny window, looking through the cloudless air at farms and settlements passing below me, when the engine exploded, rocking the plane into a crazy tilt that tossed me back and forth in my seat. The actual blast was surprisingly quiet—muffled by the insulated fuselage, I imagine—but the billowing clouds of coal-black smoke pouring off the wing were impossible to miss.

      Every nerve in my body clanged, but my eyes stayed riveted to the roiling smoke that streamed back from the engine just feet from my window. My aching fingers clung to the armrests to hold myself steady as the plane dipped forward, then plunged, the momentum forcing me against my seat.

      The pop and hiss of hundreds of oxygen masks, springing from the ceiling like venomous snakes, startled my attention away from the smoking wing. Reflexes honed by dozens of droning safety speeches sent hands darting out to grab the oxygen masks, the adults securing their own masks before assisting others.

      But I didn’t bother with mine.

      Not even when my mother pushed it at me, her eyes dancing with terror as she gripped my father’s arm so tightly I knew her fingernails must be drawing blood.

      It was the flight attendant who made me understand. Two of them were standing in the aisle, trying to get everyone’s attention, demonstrating the crash position—like that was going to help. But I focused on the third one. He wasn’t attempting to buckle up or help the passengers; he just stood, his body strangely still amid the chaos, looking out the window, two tears rolling down his cheeks.

      That’s when I knew we were all about to die.

      And in that moment, my fear melted away and I felt completely at peace. No life flashing before my eyes or sudden aching regrets. Just an overwhelming peace.

      I