Sky Jumpers Series, Book 1 by Peggy Eddleman Read Free Book Online

homes! Do you want us all to die? Do you want your kids to die? Your wife? How about your
dad
?”
    That last one gave me chills. Mr. Newberry’s dad was the person who found out the Bomb’s Breath was deadlyalmost forty years ago. The hard way. While cataloging plants that grew in the mountains, he walked right into the Bomb’s Breath, not knowing it even existed, and it killed him. It happened only a couple of months before Mr. Newberry was born. I understood why he was mad, but we all knew Mr. Hudson would never suggest something unsafe.
    “No one will die.” Mr. Hudson pointed to his chart. “See? The air will stay contained.”
    Mr. Newberry shook his head. “And if it doesn’t?” He looked to the other members of the council. “It’s too risky! Especially when we already have refrigeration.”
    The noise level in the gym rose even higher, but Mr. Hudson kept his voice impressively calm. “The refrigeration we have isn’t adequate. We have enough for the livestock farms, true, but we’ve already decided it requires too much fuel to put one in every home.” He pointed to his chart. “This invention runs itself, and it taps into a self-renewing resource. The Bomb’s Breath.”
    Mrs. Beckinwood, the council head and one of the oldest original citizens of White Rock, pursed her lips, wrote something on a piece of paper, then passed it down the table to my dad.
    Mrs. Williams, who always wore her hair in a bun on council days, cleared her throat. “There’s another problem. The Bomb’s Breath is dangerous to outsiders aswell as us. It’s not just a curse; it’s a blessing. It’s one of the reasons we continue to live here. Scouts report more and more groups of bandits attacking towns. Bergen and Hayes to our south and Arris to our north have all been hit in the past month. And not just smaller towns that are less protected like Hayes and Arris, or towns farther away like Bergen. Browning has had its farms looted several times this year alone, and a large group of bandits even attacked their people last week during the harvest.
    “These bandits cannot come over the mountain and attack us
because
of the Bomb’s Breath. We don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that. Right now, there’s only one easily guarded way in and out of our city. The Bomb’s Breath is, essentially, the rest of our guard. We become vulnerable without it.”
    People didn’t bother to whisper anymore. The fear in the room was thick, like we all breathed it in.
    “Quiet down,” Mrs. Beckinwood ordered. Her voice had gotten more shaky and feeble lately, so not many people heard her until she pounded her gavel on the table. She waited for the room to quiet. “David. You have something to add?”
    My dad stood up, completely at ease in front of the town. Mrs. Beckinwood made a good choice in asking him to speak. I’ve heard that people followed my dad around, ready to do whatever he said, from the time hewas in Fours & Fives. My dad’s split was running the lumber mill, and he was good with his hands and liked to make inventions with wood. But most of his inventions for the Harvest Festival had to do with leading the town—like processes on how to run things more effectively.
    I’d seen my dad calm an overreacting crowd before. He stood up and strode around the table to Mr. Hudson’s chart. He might have been Mr. Hudson’s height, but the width of his shoulders made him look intimidating. Or they would have if he didn’t always wear a smile and look like he was seconds away from wrapping you in a bear hug. It could just be the way I saw him, but I think everyone noticed my dad’s never-ending supply of kindness.
    He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that caught everyone off guard. The tension in the room was cut in half as my dad’s laughing filled it all the way to the corners. He clapped his hand on Mr. Hudson’s shoulder twice. “Tom, you can always find a way to excite the room. And we all completely trust