 Click on image to enlarge.
|
Javier, Dying in the Land of Flowers [MultiFormat]
eBook by Deborah Wheeler
| |
Regular |
|
 |
|
Club |
| You Pay: |
$1.70 |
|
 |
|
$1.45 |
eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: In Deborah Wheeler's stark, frightening vision of the future, Hispanics are literally second-class citizens, kept behind locked gates and only grudgingly allowed to earn a living. Javier has been given a golden opportunity, a dream job that could make life just a little better for his mother and sisters. He'll find a way to succeed at Tierra Flores--even if it kills him.
eBook Publisher: Rosetta Solutions, Inc., Published: 1996
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2001
14 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [55 KB]
, ePub (EPUB) [97 KB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [28 KB]
, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [160 KB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [31 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [105 KB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [101 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [106 KB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [89 KB]
, iSilo (PDB) [25 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [32 KB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [76 KB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [45 KB]
Words: 10600 Reading time: 30-42 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

The group of new hires crowded together on a concrete slab that had once been part of a beachfront parking lot. Javier Gonzalez stood in front, pressing against the chain link fence as he squinted at the sea. Waves made horizontal lines of light across the gray blue water, cut by the wake of the boat from Tierra Flores Island. Gulls wheeled overhead, screeching.
Further south, aluminum hulled dinghies bobbed at the public pier. Illegals used them to net croaker and sculpin, scavenger fish too polluted for the regular markets. Behind the rows of crumbling, sun-bleached hotels, enclosed pedestrian corridors stretched from the West City mall-plexes to the private filtered bathing areas. But here on the landing, the only sunscreens were tin slats that stank of bird shit. Strips of burning light fell across the rusting benches. The seats had all been taken hours ago by men who didn't have jobs on the Island but were hoping for an inside tip that might lead to one.
|