K. Marvin Bruce

  As the stream began to climb, it had formed a natural setting for a mill.   Dilapidated, the remains of one crouched alongside the stream.   This was far from where anybody now lived, like the Deserted Village in Watchung Reservation.   Danielle had taken him there.   Technically Feltville, it had been a place where a community had thrived, but had eventually been abandoned.   Houses still stood, falling apart, but the area was now being preserved.   Of course, in New Jersey nothing was really far from anything else, but here?   From the mill Terah saw scattered, clearly forsaken houses, up on the hill. Some towns, like New Amsterdam, caught on and became New York City.   Others, like Pithole City near where he had entered the world, were left to rot.   It was like when you had an idea and began to follow it, but others dropped out when it wasn’t an instant success.   Terah recalled that Weird New Jersey had designated the area a...

His heart exploding like a hand grenade, Terah stood stock-still with Mich’s hand clapped tightly over his mouth.   Someone else was coming in.   Flashlight off, they stood motionless in the dark at the head of the stairs.   The route to get to them was labyrinthine, but the knowledge that someone—who they had no way of knowing—was freely wandering inside with no time limit brewed an undertone of terror.   How long can a person remain silent?   Terah could hear the gurgling of his intestines.   He had to pee in the worst possible way and hadn’t asked about how Mich ordered this particular part of his house. Even if he were wanted, Terah reasoned, the authorities would take considerable time tracing him here.   He’d accepted a ride or two, and his scent would be broken.   He doubted they’d even made the connection between him and Stanton Station yet.   Any homeless person could’ve started that fire, and if there was a natural resource not i...