Hole in the Sky

by Pete Hautman; Jim Carroll

• ISBN13: 9780689831188
• ISBN10: 0689831188
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2001-05-01
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing

Summary

In 2028, a deadly Flu virus ravages the earth. Only one in two thousand survive the virus, and these "Survivors" are rarely left unaffected. By 2038, only 38 million people remain on Earth. Most of them live in small communities, ever fearful of out

Author Biography

Pete Hautman divides his time between the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and the shores of Lake Pepin in southwestern Wisconsin. He is the author of two young adult novels: Mr. Was, which was nominated for an Edgar Award by the Mystery Writers of America, and Stone Cold, an ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers. He has also written several adult novels, including Mrs. Million, Ring Game, and The Mortal Nuts.

Where did Pete Hautman get the idea for Hole in the Sky? "Ten years ago, an archaeologist friend gave me a photograph of a thirty-foot-high travertine limestone dome in the Little Colorado River gorge. He told me that the dome was sacred to the Hopi, and that it was called the Sipapuni. I kept the photo displayed on the wall above my writing desk for years. I knew that one day I would write a story about it. This is it."

Table of Contents

Prologue	1	(6)
Part One: Ceej
Tim	7	(12)
Harryette	19	(12)
Emory	31	(9)
Eight Days	40	(9)
Into the Abyss	49	(8)
Red Canyon	57	(9)
Two Small Holes	66	(6)
Isabella	72	(13)
Part Two: Bella
To the Rim	85	(10)
The Ranger Office	95	(10)
Mother K	105	(5)
Dead Men	110	(7)
Part Three: Tim
Crazed	117	(5)
The Boiler Room	122	(7)
El Tovar	129	(4)
The Judgment of the Divine	133	(9)
The Watchtower	142	(9)
Part Four: Harryette
Sorrow	151	(5)
The Cough	156	(8)
Blue Spring	164	(7)
The Sky in the Hole	171	(6)
The World	177	(4)
Author's Notes	181

Excerpts

Chapter One: Tim I stand at the edge of the world.Between me and the north rim lies twenty miles of space and a billion years of rock. I have lived here for more than half my life, but I still get this feeling in my gut. The canyon fills me with emptiness. Wind whips up the canyon walls, inflating my lungs, cool and clean, scented with juniper and pine. Below, I see layers of limestone, shale, granite. Red, green, gray, and a thousand shades of brown.The wind shifts and pushes me toward the abyss, the canyon beckoning, drawing me toward its gaping maw. The longer I stare into this vast chasm, the more unreal it becomes, like a postcard or a dream. The north rim seems closer now. I could reach out a hand and touch it. I could step off into space and find beneath my feet an invisible walkway, a bridge of thought. I feel its pull."Ceej!"I blink, startled. The panorama before me wavers, and I take a step back."Get your butt over here with that brush!"I look down at the brush in my hand, then back at Uncle and the mules. He is working on Frosty, brushing her down, checking for ticks. Cecil, our other mule, is watching me, waiting for his turn. Cecil and Frosty are brother and sister. They were born sixteen years ago, the same as me. They are the last surviving Grand Canyon mules, part of a herd that once carried tens of thousands of tourists up and down the Bright Angel Trail, from the luxury of the El Tovar Hotel to the crude stone cabins of Phantom Ranch.Now they have only me, and Uncle, and my sister, Harryette.I begin to groom Cecil, beginning with the backs of his huge, hairy ears. They make me think of Tim.I met Tim when we were just little kids, and the first thing I noticed was how far his ears stuck out. Like a mule looking at you. Later, Uncle told me, the rest of him would catch up."Take my nose," Uncle said. "When I was a boy I used to worry my nose was too big. But then I grew up and everything sort of fell into place."Uncle had one of the hugest noses I ever saw, but I didn't say anything. When you only have an uncle like Uncle and a big sister like Harryette, you learn to keep your trap shut.Tim's ears were not only big, they worked good, too. He could hear anything. One time I found him watching a bunch of ants dragging a green caterpillar up the side of a stump. "Listen," he said.Tim was my best and only friend.When I first met Tim we were both eight years old. Harryette and I had been living at the south rim of the Grand Canyon for a few months. One day I was helping Uncle mend the corral fence and I heard the distant putter of an engine. Uncle, whose ears weren't so good, heard it a second after me."Defense," Uncle said. We ran back to El Tovar, the hotel where we lived. Uncle grabbed the 30-30 carbine and took up his station on the porch, just outside the double doors leading into the front lobby. He knelt behind one of the stone arch windows and trained the rifle on the bend in the driveway. I had never seen Uncle shoot anybody, but I knew he'd do it in a second if the wrong person came into view. Harryette, who had been cleaning a basket of pine nuts, saw what was happening. She grabbed a shotgun off the rack and ran to the loading dock at the back of the hotel. I'd never seen Harryette shoot anybody either, but she was at least as mean as Uncle, and a lot jumpier. Me, I'd have rather come in the front way.I got an extra rifle from the cabinet and waited with it behind Uncle, ready to hand it to him if he ran out of bullets. This was our Defense plan. Shelter, water, food, defense -- those were the four things Uncle drilled into us again and again.Just before the vehicle came into sight, the driver honked his horn three times, and I saw Uncle's shoulders drop down, the tension gone out of him. The three honks meant it was Hap Gordon, the trader. But Uncle kept the gun sticking out the window until he could see the dusty, din