By Lorrie Moore
Finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award
Finalist for the Orange Prize for Fiction
Chosen as a top booklet of the Year by The manhattan instances ebook Review, The Washington publish, Chicago Tribune, The Christian technological know-how computer screen, Kansas urban megastar, monetary occasions, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and Real uncomplicated
Twenty-year-old Tassie Keltjin, the daughter of a gentleman farmer, has come to a school city as a pupil. while she takes a task as a part-time nanny for a mysterious and glamorous relations, she reveals herself drawn deeper into their international and without end replaced. instructed throughout the eyes of this memorable narrator, A Gate on the Stairs is a piercing novel of race, category, love, and battle in America.
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Extra info for A Gate at the Stairs
Before we left I took a zip tie out of my pack and went over to the luggage cart. They were closer now, about six hundred yards, and closing fast. I climbed into the luggage cart and put it into reverse. A loud warning beep sounded. I zip-tied the pedal down so that it would go until it hit something or the battery was completely depleted. I jumped out and rolled to avoid injury as the cart drove off, beeping loudly, in the direction of the undead mass. We headed back to the aircraft the same way I had come in, taking special care to remain undetected as we clumsily traipsed through the foliage parallel to Interstate 10.
He was mischievously aiming for their heads. I briefly chuckled to myself and got back to business. The water tower was only about ten meters from the airport perimeter fence. The top of the fence was not barbed and I could easily climb over it, so I jogged to a section out of view of the creatures and did just that. As soon as I hit the ground I started running toward the hangar. I saw a row of electric-powered luggage carts plugged into a charging bank behind the hangar. I slowly moved over to them.
He didn’t want to say much of anything so I followed him up to the control room to look for myself. The previous night John had rushed out in the darkness and pulled the bag off one of the cameras and dashed back inside. There were undead about and he didn’t wish to be out for long amongst them. More undead inhabit the area around where the fence was damaged. They are like water, flowing to the point of least resistance. My painful burns are healing, but they were not that awful to begin with. Just a few blisters on my face and other places.
A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore