A NovelBook - 2016
The doctors call it Draco Incendia Trychophyton: a highly contagious spore that marks its hosts with beautiful black and gold marks across their bodies before causing them to burst into flames. There is no antidote. Harper Grayson was a nurse who treated hundreds of infected patients; now the telltale gold-flecked marks are on her skin. But Harper wants to live at least until the fetus she is carrying comes to term. Her husband Jakob becomes unhinged and abandons her. And a man in a dirty yellow fire fighter's jacket straddles the abyss between insanity and death. Known as The Fireman, he has learned to control the fire within himself, using it as a shield to protect the hunted-- and as a weapon to avenge the wronged.
From Library Staff
A chilling novel about a worldwide pandemic of spontaneous combustion that threatens to reduce civilization to ashes and a band of improbable heroes who battle to save it, led by one powerful and enigmatic man known as the Fireman.
From the critics
QuotesAdd a Quote
“Your personality is not just a matter of what you know about yourself, but what others know about you. You are one person with your mother, and another with your lover, and yet another with your child. Those other people create you--finish you--as much as you create you. When you're gone, the ones you've left behind get to keep the same part of you they always had.”
“There's something horribly unfair about dying in the middle of a good story, before you have a chance to see how it all comes out. Of course, I suppose everyone ALWAYS dies in the middle of a good story, in a sense. Your own story. Or the story of your grandchildren. Death is a raw deal for narrative junkies.”
Just noted that goodreads has several pages of quotes now. Below are ones I collected independently:
“At one point I had forty kids in the gym, and a few teachers, and the principal, and some were crying, and some were shivering, and some were throwing up, and I felt like doing all three at the same time.”
There was a fireman causing trouble.
“Sir,” Nurse Lean said now, in a voice thin with impatience. “Everyone in this line is having an emergency. It’s emergencies all the way back to the lobby. We take ’em in the order they come here.”
“SIR,” she said. “If you take one more step, we’ll be treating you this afternoon for a variety of bruises and contusions.”
Renée said it was easier to spot a moose in New Hampshire than a black person. She said she was used to being stared at as if her head was on fire, people had been staring that way for years.
I think it makes me look like a tigress! A fat, frumpy tigress. Like if Catwoman got really out of shape.”
Johnny Deepenau was a Budweiser-drinking, football-watching, Donald Trump–voting, stone-cold bozo who never read anything deeper than Penthouse magazine, but he understood that much.
He hated the way they saved all year to buy tickets in nosebleed territory for a pro-football game. He hated how happy they were in the weeks after the game, and hated the way they would tell the story of the game over and over as if recounting the battle of Thermopylae.
They were in their late sixties, stranded in God’s waiting room, a.k.a. Florida.
“I know it’s politically incorrect to say, but what the hell, we’re both about to die: I’ve never thought much of the intelligence of women. I’ve never once met a woman who had any true intellectual rigor. There’s a reason things like Facebook and airplanes and all the other great inventions of our time were made by men.”
All of France’s wine country was nothing but ash now, which meant the stain on her blouse was probably worth a few thousand dollars on the black market. She had never worn anything so expensive.
She loped jaggedly off course. No, that wasn’t right; for her to wander off course, she needed to have a course, and she had no idea where she was going.
The beard was actually less Dumbledore, more Hemingway, but the eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were a brilliant shade of blue that naturally suggested a man who could cast runes and speak to trees.
“ … Time is short, Tom.” “Isn’t it always?”
“You’ve beaten it?” Harper asked. “Better,” Father Storey said. “We’ve made friends with it.”
I want us to have matching pajamas. That’s how crazy I am for you.
“But Snuffleupagus was real.” “That is the most wonderful sentence I have ever heard. I want that on my gravestone. Snuffleupagus was real. No more. Just that.”
“It’s not magic. It’s a miracle,” Carol said, like someone identifying the make of their new car: it’s a Miata.
“ … And you become aware of yourself as just one leaf on a tree, and everyone you know and love, they’re all the other leaves.”
“ … They laughed at me, like grown-ups havin’ a yuk at some kid who just drank his first beer.”
“It’s no place for two strappin’ young boys like us,” Don Lewiston said. “All them wimmen undressin’ you with their eyes, plottin’ ways to use you to satisfy their repress’t needs—it makes a decent man feel lucky to escape with his life and virginity intact.”
“…It was like watchin’ a TV show and suddenly one a the extras decides to deliver a speech ain’t in the script.”
“ … Why don’t you go outside and yell for him?” “He’s deaf,” Harper said. “Don’t let that stop you,”
…most human lives were unfair, brutal, full of loss and grief and confusion. Most human lives were and are too short. Most people have lived out their days hungry and barefoot, on the run from this war and that famine, a plague here and a flood there. But people have to sing anyway.
… all acts of altruism were secretly acts of selfishness, that you were really only doing for others to please yourself.
When you gave your happiness away, it came back twofold. It kept coming and coming, like the loaves and fishes.
In her experience it was very difficult to offer a man affection and kindness without giving him the impression you were also offering a lay.
“A thousand prayers every minute everywhere and what does God ever say back? Nothing! Because silence never lies. Silence is God’s final advantage. Silence is the purest form of harmony.
“That’s right. You didn’t know it belonged to anyone. And the world is just full of free cars. They’re like picking daisies at the side of the road,”
… it did not pay to be too impressed with a man just because he could ride a unicycle.
“A Porsche is just a half ton of worthless iron if there’s no gas in the tank.”
I haven’t been in so much pain since Guns and Roses broke up.”
“I brought you some wonderful loose teas—” “Tea! You think I want tea?” “Why not? You’re English.” “And so you think I drink tea? What, do you imagine I used to wander around in the London fog in a deerstalker cap, talking to my mates in iambic pentameter? We have Starbucks, woman.”
Nothing makes a person feel more low and ashamed than disappointing the old man. It’s like telling a department store Santa you know his beard is fake.”
“You don’t think she means well?” “I’m certain she means well. When your government was waterboarding poor sods to find bin Laden, they meant well.
… Without someone higher to answer to, the law is just whoever’s holding the nightstick. A nightstick—or a dish towel full of rocks.”
“I’ll be your candle on the water …My love for you will always burn
“There’s always a little decency in the worst places . . . and always a little secret selfishness in the best.”
The Dodge Challenger was only a dozen steps from where she was taking shelter, but it might as well have been in a different county. Trying to cross that distance made about as much sense as diving headfirst into a wood chipper.
I wouldn’t like to see it happen, but there’s a lot of things I’ve had to live with that I didn’t like. I’m sure I could manage one more.
When she stroked a fingernail up his bare foot he curled his toes and made a soft snort of amusement. When she had tested him that way last week, she might as well have been tickling a loaf of bread.
It was funny how the more she said it to herself, the less she believed it.
“…These days, I’m not sure it’s ever a good idea to leave anything important for tomorrow.”
I liked who I was when I was by his side,
…how the romance between a moth and a candle usually ended: with the moth spinning to its death, wings smoking.
“Rabbit mothers eat their own babies,” the Mazz said. “I found that out reading Watership Down.
“They’re not bad people, most of them. All they want is to be safe.” “Isn’t that always a permission slip for ugliness and cruelty? All they want is to be safe, and they don’t care who they have to destroy to stay that way.
He said the candy bar was awful and he needed another one to get the taste out of his mouth.
AgeAdd Age Suitability
spl_merley thinks this title is suitable for 15 years and over
SummaryAdd a Summary
The fate of humanity is literally igniting in flames as a pandemic, caused by a spore nicknamed dragonscale, threatens to turn the world to ashes. Courageous and optimistic Nurse Harper Grayson sought to help when the pandemic began but after the hospital that she worked in burns down she and her husband retreat to their home. When she discovers that she is both infected and unexpectantly pregnant her desire to save the life of her unborn child gives her strength to face the dangers smoldering around her. An act of kindness in the hospital is returned when the enigmatic Fireman, who is able to control the plagues flames, saves her life and takes her to a camp where a group of the infected have learned how to live with the spore. Under constant fear of those hunting the sick Harper slowly becomes a part of this cult-like community in spite of her initial misgivings. When conflict and disaster strikes this seemingly idyllic hiding place Harper and the Fireman must work together to save themselves and the one’s they love.
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