A true Chicago dog looks like someone fired a bazooka at a vegetable stand, then scraped the remnants off the wall and slathered it on a tube of meat. Yellow mustard, onions, chunked tomatoes, sweet pickle relish, peppers-whole, of course, and pickled-a dill pickle slice, and a pinch of celery salt. “A man has to make a living,” Sam said, slathering on the condiments. “Saving the world does not inspire the gratitude it once did.” “For you, half price,” he said, whipping up two hot dogs. The vendor, Sam, was an elderly, bearded man who wore a small red-and-white hat. The woman in front of us wandered off with her hot dog, and I stepped up to the stand-a small metal cart with a transformed steel umbrella permanently frozen open. “Or perhaps a quilt?” Abraham asked, sounding amused. They make the city look like a big … chessboard. Not like the city was before Calamity, but also a big change from how it was under Steelheart. “We have to use the paint we can find,” I said. Newcago was almost kind of peaceful, now that we’d dealt with the rioters, but you couldn’t count on peace lasting long. But whatever it was, it involved weapons, and I had my rifle over my shoulder. The butt of a handgun poked from his hip holster. As he talked, he scanned the people walking nearby, studying each one in his trademark relaxed yet discerning way. Tall and dark-skinned, Abraham spoke with a light French accent. “It would be nice if when we painted a wall, we would take a little more concern for colors that matched those of their neighbors.” With some work, instead of looking the same everywhere, the city would eventually become a patchwork of reds, oranges, greens, whites, and purples.Ībraham-my companion for this hot dog excursion-followed my gaze, then grima ced. Now that the city’s perpetual gloom had been dispelled, it turned out all those reflective surfaces could make things really bright. Recently, Tia had started an initiative to paint some of those surfaces. Newcago extended around me, a city of skyscrapers, underpasses, shops, and streets all frozen permanently in steel. But standing in line was part of the experience, and I didn’t want to skip a moment.
I was one of the Reckoners-leaders of the rebellion, defenders of the city of Newcago, slayers of Steelheart himself. Someone was in line when we arrived, but I didn’t cut in front of her. A glorious day, a momentous day, a day of import and distinction. The day had finally arrived, a day I’d been awaiting for ten years. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.ĭelacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.Įducators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at Text copyright © 2013 by Dragonsteel Entertainment, LLCĪll rights reserved. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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