Boston, New York, Charleston, Miami.
   All had been hit.
   They couldn’t estimate the number of fatalities.
   I just sat there. I felt completely numb.
   It was the worst natural disaster in recorded history.
   The most violent volcano eruption in recorded history.
   The biggest tsunami in recorded history.
   They played some footage.
   It played so fast they had to slow it down so you could see what was going on.
   From the street, a shot of the Empire State Building and a tall cloud drawing closer and closer, frame by frame, but it wasn’t a cloud—it was a wall of water—and then the image went blank.
   A beach and you’re looking out at the water, only there is no water, just a boat stranded about a mile out into the ocean bed and you hear a voice praying to Jesus and then the image is shaking, shaking, and a wave so high the minitab can’t see the top thunders up. Then darkness.
   Chloe said she wanted to watch kid TV. We ignored her.
   Bad Makeup said the National Connectivity was down because three of the five satellite centers had been located on the East Coast.
   Blue Suit said the president had declared a state of emergency and was safe at an undisclosed location.
   We watched, mostly in silence.
   “Turn it to Tabi-Teens,” Chloe whined. “This is bo-ring!”
   I looked at her. She was totally clueless. She was listlessly picking at a label stuck on the minitab counter.
   None of the little kids seemed to understand what we were learning. They were just kind of slowpoking around, hanging out.
   I had to keep watching the TV. Couldn’t think about the kids.
   I felt gray. Washed out. Like a stone.
   Bad Makeup said the megatsunami had triggered severe weather conditions across the rest of the country. Her voice caught on “rest of the country.” She mentioned storms called supercells, sweeping across the Rockies (that was us).
   I looked over at Josie. She was watching the screen. Caroline had crawled onto Josie’s lap, and Josie was stroking Caroline’s hair absentmindedly.
   CNN showed more footage from the East Coast.
   They showed a house carried up the side of a mountain. They showed a lake full of cars. They showed people wandering around half naked on streets in places that should have looked familiar, but now looked like locations from war movies.
   People in boats, people crying, people washed down rivers like logs on a log float, people washed up along with their cars and garages and trees and trash cans and bicycles and god-knows-what else. People as debris.
   I closed my eyes.
   Near me, someone started to cry.
   “Put it to Tabi-Teens!” Chloe demanded. “Or Traindawgs or something!”
   I took my brother’s hand. It was ice cold.
   * * *
   We watched for hours.
   At some point, somebody turned off the television.
   At some point, somebody got out sleeping bags for everyone.
   There was a lot of whining from the little kids and not a lot of comforting coming from us.
   They were really bothering us. Especially Chloe and Batiste.
   Batiste kept talking about the “end of days.”
   He said it was just like Reverend Grand said would happen. The judgment day was upon us. I wanted to punch him in his little greasy face.
   I just wanted to think. I couldn’t think and they all kept crying and asking for stupid things and clinging to us and I just wanted them to shut up.
   Finally Astrid bent over and grabbed Batiste by the shoulders.
   She said, real clear and kind of mean, “You kids go and get candy. As much as you want. Go do that.”
   And they did.
   They came back with bags from the candy aisle.
   That was the best we could do for them that night: candy. We took the bags and ripped them open and made a big pile in the middle of the floor, and everyone gorged on fun sizes of all brands and types.
   We ate it like it was medicine. Like it was magic candy that could somehow restore us to a normal life again. We ate ourselves numb and got in our bags and went to sleep.
   There was a lot of crying from the little kids and occasionally one of us would yell, “Shut up!”
   That’s how we got by, that first night.
   THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK.
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   BERSERKER
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   ABOUT THE AUTHOR
   Emmy Laybourne is the author of Sweet and the Monument 14 trilogy. Before her life as an author, Emmy performed original comedy on Comedy Central, MTV, and VH1 and acted in the movies Superstar, The In-Laws, and Nancy Drew, among others. She lives in upstate New York with her husband, two kids, and a flock of six nifty chickens.
   Visit her online at emmylaybourne.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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   CONTENTS
   Title Page
   Copyright Notice
   Dedication
   Chapter 1
   Chapter 2
   Chapter 3
   Chapter 4
   Chapter 5
   Chapter 6
   Chapter 7
   Chapter 8
   Chapter 9
   Chapter 10
   Chapter 11
   Chapter 12
   Chapter 13
   Chapter 14
   Chapter 15
   Chapter 16
   Chapter 17
   Chapter 18
   Chapter 19
   Chapter 20
   Chapter 21
   Chapter 22
   Chapter 23
   Chapter 24
   Chapter 25
   Chapter 26
   Chapter 27
   Chapter 28
   Chapter 29
   Chapter 30
   Chapter 31
   Acknowledgments
   Excerpt: Monument 14
   About the Author
   Copyright
   Copyright © 2017 by Emmy Laybourne
   A Feiwel and Friends Book
   An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
   175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
   fiercereads.com
   All rights reserved.
   Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
   Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
   Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at 
[email protected]   First hardcover edition 2017
   eBook edition October 2017
   eISBN 9781250135230   
    
   Emmy Laybourne, Berserker Series, Book 1  
                 Thank you for reading boo 
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