GAME-Guess which book

[aimejl]

After the knife incident, Father spent less and less time at home and more at work. He made excuses to the family, but I didn't believe him. I often shivered with fear as I sat in the garage, hoping for some reason he might not leave. In spite of all that had happened, I still felt Father was my protector. When he was home, Mother only did about half the things to me that she did when he was gone.

When Father was home, it became his habit to help me with the evening dishes. Father washed and I dried. While we worked, we talked softly so neither Mother nor the other boys could hear us. Sometimes, several minutes would pass without us talking. We wanted to make sure the coast was clear.

Father always broke the ice. "How ya doing, Tiger?" he would say. Hearing the old name that Father used when I was a little boy always brought a smile to my face. "I'm OK," I would answer. "Did you have anything to eat today?" he often asked. I usually shook my head in a negative gesture. "Don't worry," he'd say. "Some day you and I will both get out of this madhouse."

 

[Jane_the_Bane]

"A Child Called It" by Dave Pelzer.

That was a tough one, though!!!

 

[Jane_the_Bane]

Snowman wakes before dawn. He lies unmoving, listening to the tide coming in, wave after wave sloshing over the various barricades, wish-wash-, wish-wash, the rhythm of heartbeat. He would so like to believe he is still asleep.
On the eastern horizon there's a greyish haze, lit now with a rosy, deadly glow. Strange how that colour still seems tender. The offshore towers stand out in dark silhouette against it, rising improbably out of the pink and pale blue of the lagoon. The shrieks of birds that nest out there and the distant ocean grinding against the ersatz reefs of rusted car parts and jumbled bricks and assorted rubble sound almost like holiday traffic.
Out of habit he looks at his watch - stainless-stell case, burnished aluminium band, still shiny although it no longer works. He wears it now as his only talisman. A blank face is what it shows him: zero hour. It causes a jolt of terror to run through him, this absence of official time. Nobody nowhere knows what time it is.
"Calm down," he tells himself. He takes a few deep breaths, then scratches his bug bites, around but not on the itchiest places, taking care not to knock of any scabs: blood poisoning is the last thing he needs. Then he scans the ground below for wildlife: all quiet, no scales and tails. Left hand, right foot, right hand, left foot, he makes his way down from the tree. After brushing off the twigs and bark, he winds his dirty bedsheet around himself like a toga. He's hung his authentic-replica Red Sox baseball cap on a branch overnight for safekeeping; he checks inside it, flicks out a spider, puts it on.

 

[stonetoflesh]

The Falcon and the Snowman?

 

[Jane_the_Bane]

Nope - the "and" is correct, but otherwise...

 

[aimejl]

what kind of book is it?

 

[Jane_the_Bane]

Well, as you can tell by the passage I quoted, the story takes place in a dystopic, post-apocalyptic world.
The novel is about hubris and humans playing god - literally, in the case of one of the main characters, the embittered genius whose secret project is responsible for the devastation that surrounds Snowman.

 

[stonetoflesh]

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood...

 

[Jane_the_Bane]

Yes!

 

[stonetoflesh]

Ok, someone else take a turn!

 

[aimejl]

Mac's watch showed 1300 hours—one in the afternoon, Carpathia Time. It had to be more than a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Sweat ran down his neck from the grayish red hair peeking out from under his cap, soaking his shirt. Mac detected not even a wisp of wind and wondered what his freckled, leathery face would look like in a few days.

 

[lauren92596]

Um...I got nothin'.

 

[lauren92596]

I guess I'm the only 1 here...

 

[lauren92596]

Yep. I am.

 

[aimejl]

I guess I picked a hard one.

 

[lauren92596]

Oh. Someone's here.

 

[lauren92596]

...Or not. That was over 3 minutes ago.

 

[aimejl]

I'm still here just checking out other forums on here.

 

[Amy]

Mac's watch showed 1300 hours—one in the afternoon, Carpathia Time. It had to be more than a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Sweat ran down his neck from the grayish red hair peeking out from under his cap, soaking his shirt. Mac detected not even a wisp of wind and wondered what his freckled, leathery face would look like in a few days.

I think this is from the Left Behind series, but I don't know which book.

 

[aimejl]

I think this is from the Left Behind series, but I don't know which book.

It is from the Left Behind Series.