New Found Land, 2

Product Description

Traveling through time was just the beginning—now Simon and Brad have to survive a reimagined early America in the second book of the alternative history Fireball trilogy, from critically acclaimed Tripods author John Christopher.

When Simon and Brad were caught in the mysterious fireball and transported to the strange alternate world on the other side, they knew their lives would never be the same again.

They definitely couldn’t have imagined the dangers ahead, especially when they set sail for Brad’s homeland: the still undiscovered America.

The Algonquian territory is hardly the paradise Brad had been promised—or remembered from history class. Winter is brutal, the locals are hostile, and Simon and Brad know they have to escape.

But can they? The adventures in store—from Vikings to a completely unexpected civilization—put their will to survive to the ultimate test.

About the Author

John Christopher was the pseudonym of Samuel Youd, who was born in Lancashire, England, in 1922. He was the author of more than fifty novels and novellas, as well as numerous short stories. His most famous books include The Death of Grass, the Tripods trilogy, The Lotus Caves, and The Guardians.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

New Found Land

1

THERE WERE SEVERAL MINOR FALLS of snow before the big one. It started quietly enough, with a few flecks floating down from a steel-grey sky, dissolving as they touched the ground. This was early afternoon, and the gentle fall continued until dark. They brought in logs for the fire, ate their evening meal by lamplight, and afterwards played a Roman game with dice and counters.

Next morning the snow was still falling, but faster and more thickly, and it was more than a foot deep against the door. They looked at a white world, and when they went outside their voices were strange, muffled yet echoing. Bos, who had once been a gladiator, turned childish and started a snowball fight, and Curtius, ex–Roman centurion, joined in. Afterwards they cleared a path round the cabin, and out to the spring and the latrine hut. Simon was aware of the glow of physical exertion, and the comfortable warmth when they went back inside.

It was three days before the snow stopped. By that time the minimum depth was four feet, and in places it had drifted to more than twice that.

“Right,” Brad said. “Ideal conditions.”

“Ideal for what?” Simon asked.

“Trying out the snowshoes.”

They had made the snowshoes out of deerskin and birch saplings, copying those they had seen in the nearby Algonquian village. The manufacture had not been easy, and Simon, who was not particularly skilled at that sort of thing, eventually got bored and abandoned his. Bos took them over and finished them.

Simon had some feeling of guilt about it, which made his response to Brad’s proposal less than keen. He pointed out they were due a trading visit from the Indians, and volunteered to stay behind to receive them. The others, after the long confinement, were eager for the open air. He watched them set out up the slope, making clumsy progress.

During the blizzard the chimney vent had provided the only ventilation; the atmosphere was stuffy and, once one had sampled fresh air, unpleasant. Simon drew the bars which secured the wooden shutters and hauled them open. Crisp air flowed in. The light which accompanied it provided all too clear a picture of the squalor arising from their three days of imprisonment, and he decided something must be done about that.

After an hour’s cleaning and tidying he was regretting his refusal to go with the others. It wasn’t as though they were especially short of food: corn was low, but there was enough for a day or two, and if the Algonquians didn’t come to them, they could always go to the village.

But at least the place looked less like a pigsty. He leaned on his broom and stared out at the snow. A jay was busily digging, its white underside blending with the wider w