Read Dividing Earth: A Novel of Dark Fantasy for Free Online

The ground had turned to mud during the night’s rain, and the wheel was buried. Papa trudged behind it, leaning against the wheel with all his weight, breathing through his teeth, groaning. Then he noticed Mama staring at him in disgust. He glanced back, shrugging his shoulders.
    “Why?” she spat. “There’s no need to pretend. Free it!”
    Papa stared at her a moment before turning. He brought his hands before his face, seemed to appraise their size and shape, then plunged them into the mud behind the wagon’s stuck wheel. Buried to the elbows, he fished around in the earth, turning it like dough.
    Sarah watched him, then the mud. Nothing was happening. Come on , she thought.
    It was a small detail, but she noticed it at once. To the left of Papa’s arm a tiny bubble grew. It popped and was immediately replaced by others. She smiled. Another bubble or two burst and then the mud began to boil. It spit into the air. As if he’d struck oil, it shot up all around him, some of it spattering the wagon’s top. The smells of mud, linseed oil and hickory pervaded the air. Papa screamed, lowered his head, and mud filled the sky before slopping back.
    And the wheel began to shake.
    The hubs of elm, spokes of oak, and rims of ash all set to it. The wagon, all ton and a half of it, trembled. The tailgate opened and closed like a chattering mouth. The tongue shook and the oxen craned their heads, their black eyes stupidly concerned. Papa pulled his arms out, held them to his eyes, black and soaked with mud, and watched the wagon lean forward, disturbing the oxen. They took lumbering steps. After five or six of these, the wheel budged. It turned, then rolled. Painstakingly, they yanked the wheel free of the earth’s grasp.
    “Why thank you, John,” said her mother, shaking her head, her arms crossed.
    Thankfully, the remainder of the morning had been free of concerns. Now, Sarah sat beside her mother, pretending to sleep. “Can we make it by nightfall?” Mama asked.
    Papa nodded, but raised his eyebrows. “Think so. Not much past, if it comes to that.”
    “And he has no idea we’re coming?”
    He eyed her disapprovingly. “You know he doesn’t.”
    “But he’ll—”
    “Stop it,” he said, glancing past her at Sarah, who quickly closed her eyes. “She’s not like us. We need advice.”
    “She’s just started the change, John.”
    “And who knows what that’ll bring?”
    They rode on.
    * * * * *
    The sun was bleeding into the west and smoke rose on the horizon. Sarah’s eyes widened and she leaned forward. “Look!”
    Papa jumped. “What?”
    She poked her finger at the smoke. Light beat back the encroaching darkness somewhere in the distance. The town, she knew, lay under the heat of street lamps. She had heard that Tempest was as modern as they came.
    “Must not be far.”
    “Aren’t you excited?” asked Sarah.
    Papa kept his eyes on the gray twirling into the gloom. He said nothing. Beside him, Mama stirred. She lifted her head, sat up and stared at the horizon.
    Sarah watched as her parent’s eyes met and her heart beat faster and faster. She spied a clapboard building. She broke into a sweat. Tempest was coming. It was coming and they weren’t going to turn around.
    * * * * *
    They rolled into Tempest just after the dusk had dissolved into dark. A farmer outside of town agreed to corral their oxen and keep their wagon on his property. After they took a few essentials, they started for town.
    The place was larger than Sarah had expected. Main Street was wide enough for three wagons to roll through side by side, and the buildings on either side of the street were too close—there weren’t alleys between them, as in most towns. Most of them sported ‘Closed’ signs hanging in dirty windows. The right side of the street was dark and quiet, while on the left most of the noise in town—and there was considerable racket—was centered within the bright confines of the saloon. Sarah couldn’t see