The Salt Line

The Salt Line

by Holly Goddard Jones

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Overview

The Salt Line by Holly Goddard Jones

"Great, near-future sci-fi...A propulsive, character-driven thriller...I really love this book."—Kelly Link, author of Get in Trouble and Magic for Beginners 

In the spirit of Station Eleven and California, award-winning novelist Holly Goddard Jones offers a literary spin on the dystopian genre with this gripping story of survival and humanity about a group of adrenaline junkies who jump “the Salt Line.”


How far will they go for their freedom—once they decide what freedom really means?

In an unspecified future, the United States' borders have receded behind a salt line—a ring of scorched earth that protects its citizens from deadly disease-carrying ticks. Those within the zone live safe, if limited, lives in a society controlled by a common fear. Few have any reason to venture out of zone, except for the adrenaline junkies who pay a fortune to tour what's left of nature. Those among the latest expedition include a popstar and his girlfriend, Edie; the tech giant Wes; and Marta; a seemingly simple housewife.

Once out of zone, the group find themselves at the mercy of deadly ticks—and at the center of a murderous plot. They become captives in Ruby City, a community made up of outer-zone survivors determined to protect their hardscrabble existence. As alliances and friendships shift amongst the hostages, Edie, Wes, and Marta must decide how far they are willing to go to get to the right side of the salt line.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780735214316
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date: 09/05/2017
Pages: 400
Sales rank: 494,990
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 1.10(d)

About the Author

Holly Goddard Jones is the author of The Next Time You See Me and Girl Trouble (stories). Her work has appeared in The Best American Mystery Stories, New Stories from the South, Tin House magazine, and elsewhere. She was a recipient of The Fellowship of Southern Writers' Hillsdale Prize for Excellence in Fiction and of a Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award. She earned her M.F.A. from Ohio State University and her B.A. from the University of Kentucky. She teaches creative writing at UNC Greensboro and lives in Greensboro with her husband, Brandon, and their children.

Read an Excerpt

One

The burn was the first rite of passage. The brochures had warned them about this much.

It was Day 1 of the three-week training camp, 6:00 a.m. sharp, and Edie sat with Jesse on the gymnasium floor among a circle of sleep-slurred bodies, all of them clad in the regulation black athletic suit, their names piped across their hearts in silver-threaded cursive.

At a minute past the hour, according to the clock above the door, a man entered the gymnasium. He infiltrated their circle with the casual authority of someone in charge, pulled off his T-shirt, and lifted his arms above his head like a boxer who’d just knocked out his opponent with a single right-hand hook.

“Take a look at me, you dumb rich fucks,” he said. Jesse leaned forward with bright-eyed interest, giddy, lapping it up, but a middle-­aged Japanese couple, wearing matching fleece vests over their gym suits, flinched in affront. The man’s stomach and back were polka-­dotted, the marks perfectly round, perhaps a centimeter in diameter. The skin on his shins was tight and shiny, and the hair on his scalp grew in only sporadically. “I see some pretty ladies in the room.” He looked at Edie for a moment, and she recoiled, as though her beauty were a thing to be ashamed of. “I see a lot of soft-looking men. I see a bunch of people with more money than sense, who think they’re buying themselves some adventure, some street cred.”

The speech had the cadence of spontaneity, but Edie could tell that it was one he’d delivered many times. Jesse’s fawning acceptance surprised and disappointed her. He wouldn’t like it if she rolled her eyes right now; he wouldn’t mime laughter and nod knowingly, as he usually did.

“My name is Andy, and I’ll be your guide and your coach and your shrink and your goddamn messiah for the next eight weeks. I have fifty-seven burns on my body. Each one hurt like a motherfucker.” He stopped in front of a silver-haired woman wearing ­diamond earrings and held out his arm. He pointed at a thick red weal with a blunt forefinger. “Some of the burns are keloids, which means that they can grow into healthy tissue. I don’t know why some turn out this way. Most of us have only the faintest notions of how our bodies will react to trauma. I imagine that goes double for a bunch of people who are willing to pay good money to put their lives at risk.”

The man in the fleece vest was red-faced. He looked around the circle, hoping to find another person who shared his anger, but no one accommodated him.

“The average traveler will arrive at Quarantine 1 with at least one of these scars. I know you think you understand what this means, but let me make this very real to you.” A projection appeared in the air to his left, dust winking in the column of light. The light coalesced into the shape of an insect, which rotated slowly. “The dread miner tick. You’ve lived your life in fear of it. Miner ticks are resourceful and very, very difficult to kill. Some scientists claim that they are capable of strategizing. This one time”—he was almost smiling now; he obviously liked telling this story—“I woke up, unzipped my tent, and saw something hanging on one of the seams. I thought a leaf had snagged on it, and I reached to pull it off, and that’s when I saw that the leaf was actually a cluster of miner ticks.” He paused so the significance of this could settle upon the ten people sitting on the floor around him like children at story hour. “They had chosen a spot—someplace where there was a tiny fault in the material, not even visible to the human eye—and joined forces to work it open. Another couple of hours, and they might have.”

Edie grabbed Jesse’s hand before she could stop herself. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

The projection zoomed in on the tick, so that the three-dimensional image hanging in the air was a couple of horrifying feet tall.

“An adult male miner tick will attach and feed but not burrow. A male tick bite will become inflamed, and there is some risk of disease, but male miner ticks weren’t what drove us behind the Salt Line. Now females—”

The image changed, grew. A barbed protuberance extended from the head.

“The females are real bitches.” There were some nervous titters. “The bite of a pregnant female miner tick releases a numbing agent, which allows her to work without detection. The burrowing appendage, which is called the horn, is corkscrew shaped. The female essentially drills into your skin, pulling her body behind her into the opening. This takes less than half a minute.

“By the time you feel the itching, the female miner tick has created a tiny cavity under your skin and settled into place. I cannot stress to you enough the importance of quick action here. Within a few minutes, the female will start releasing eggs into the cavity. The eggs are each the size of a pinprick. They can’t move on their own, but they’re covered in a fibrous coating, which makes them exceptionally sticky, like burrs. They spread out quickly and can even enter the bloodstream.”

The woman with the diamond earrings had gotten very pale.

“If the itching stops, you’re fucked. The female has died, and the eggs have scattered. Over the next several hours, the area around the bite will erupt in hundreds of pustules. Depending on where the eggs traveled, and if evacuation occurred near a vein, eruptions can occur all over the body, and even in vital organs. The itching will return and become almost unbearable. If you don’t scratch the ­pustules open yourself to try to sooth the itch, the miner ticks will eventually tear their way out.”

The giant tick vanished, and a time-lapse video took its place. There were a couple of gasps, though this was nothing most of the travelers hadn’t already seen in their secondary school health classes or on internet shock feeds. There was a forearm with a single red bump. Then little bumps started popping up all around it, spreading down to the wrist and up to the bend in the elbow, the red heads turning taut and yellowish and then bursting open. Out of the oozing fluid crawled hundreds of tiny miner ticks. The arm never moved. Edie realized that the host must be sedated.

There was the unmistakable sound of someone’s rising gorge, and then a young man—maybe even Edie’s age, unlike most of the other people here—shot up from the circle and fled the gymnasium.

“Such infestations can be survived, and in fact, the infestation itself is painful and disfiguring but not necessarily life-threatening, unless eggs hatch in vulnerable tissue, as I mentioned before, or if there are multiple infestations that result in significant blood loss. The problem is that the female miners often carry blood-borne diseases. Ten percent of them have a juiced-up version of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, which is unpleasant but mostly treatable.

“But it’s estimated that between forty and forty-five percent of female miner ticks carry Shreve’s disease, which you’ve no doubt heard enough about to last you a lifetime. Shreve’s is the big bad wolf in our story. Symptoms manifest within forty-eight hours of a successful infestation and include blurry vision, nausea, and loss of feeling in the limbs. The disease is fast and deadly. Total paralysis, then death. All in a matter of days.”

He stopped and made another full circle, connecting eyes with each of the twenty travelers. “That’s why we have the Stamp. Some say it’s archaic, or barbaric, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’ve not been able to eradicate these goddamn ticks from the face of the earth, and we still haven’t been able to create some kind of a foolproof defense against them, either, or an inoculation against Shreve’s. The microsuits help but have a five percent failure rate. Lotions and sprays have minimal to nil effect.”

He pulled a device out of his pocket. It was about the size of a cigar but stainless steel, with a little glass lip on one end and a button on the other. The projected image shifted into an animation of the device. “The Stamp is the single most effective tool we have against female miner ticks and miner tick infestations. As soon as you feel the itch, you place the mouth of the Stamp on the affected site”—he mimed on his own arm—“and depress the button.” He made an exaggerated motion of his thumb but didn’t press down. “You’ll hear a click, like a flint getting struck. And then you’ll feel some of the worst pain of your life. The Stamp thrusts a barbed hook through your skin, skewering the female miner tick, and then retracts it, capturing the tick in a chemical solution. Then a burner brands the wound, cauterizing it and killing any of the eggs in the perimeter, as well as disinfecting the blood-borne contagions the bitch might have left behind. The Stamp, my friends, has a ninety-nine-point-eight percent success rate if used within sixty seconds of initial burrowing.”

He stopped, letting that last statement linger. Edie knew what was coming next, and she swallowed hard, feeling as if her windpipe had constricted to a mere thread of opening.

“You will have to use this device if you go on this journey beyond the Salt Line. The question isn’t ‘if’; it’s ‘when.’ And that’s why Outer Limits Excursions requires each of its travelers to submit to the Stamp before beginning training. We don’t want to waste your time. And we don’t want you wasting ours.

“If you walk out of here today, you can still get a ninety percent refund of your package price. The penalty covers Quarantine cancellation fees and the time it took me to give you this entertaining presentation.” A few people smiled halfheartedly. “And if you decide you regret it down the line, you can reapply for a future excursion at a five percent discount.” The projection disappeared, and Andy crossed his arms. “There’s the door. The lovely Jessica is waiting in the front office with your paperwork, and she’ll even make you a cappuccino for your drive home.”

Edie sneaked a glance at Jesse. He was still hunched forward, still beaming. The Japanese couple in the matching vests had an intense whispered exchange.

“You may be wondering right now why you even came here in the first place,” Andy said. “You may be thinking, ‘Jesus Christ, why didn’t I just buy that condo at the beach, or book a week at Casinolake? What in the hell was I thinking?’ ” He placed his hands on his hips, emanating a cocksure vigor at odds with the ravages of his many scars.

“Here’s why.” Now he put his palms together as if in prayer, and Edie had a fleeting impression of a dance, as choreographed as his speech. “You know there’s a whole world out there we’ve run and hid from, because the going got a little tough. You know, for a few scars and a big wad of cash, that you can go see the things your great-great-grandparents took for granted, that are available to you now only in photographs or simulations. Sunrise from a rock precipice. A hawk circling over your head. Trout bellies in a mountain stream. You can listen to cold water dripping from the ceiling of a cave, and you can see deer flipping up their white tails at you before dashing between trees and out of sight. Right now, on this Fall Color Tour you’ve each paid a premium for, you can hike across hillsides covered in reds, golds, and oranges, the scale of which—I promise you—is like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I’ve risked my life and defaced my body because I believe those sights have value, and that connecting with nature—however dangerous it can be—is essential to the experience of being human.” Edie, despite herself, felt a stirring of tender pride, so acute that tears prickled her eyes. “But this isn’t for everyone. That’s a fact. So please, if your instincts are telling you to take off, take off. No judgment here. I like people who know their own minds and their own limits.

“If you’re ready for an adventure, though—if you want to know, for the first time, what it really means to be alive—stay.” He held up the Stamp, wagged it a little. “There is no pleasure without pain.”

Jesse started to clap. An excruciating second passed in which no one joined him, and then Edie remembered to move her hands, and most of the others followed suit.

Andy nodded along with the sputtering of last claps, then leveled his gaze, standing very still. There was a moment—a dozen seconds, twenty—of perfect silence.

“Anyone leaving?” he asked.

The travelers looked around at one another. Edie stared at the couple in the vests, then the young man who had run out of the room to throw up (he had returned, almost endearingly shamefaced, as Andy was finishing his demonstration of the Stamp), hoping—she realized—that someone would raise a hand, would declare “This is insane,” and then maybe the rest of them would have the courage to stand up and agree. Maybe even Jesse could be convinced. But no one moved.

“Well, then.” Andy grinned, brandishing the Stamp. “Who’s first?”

This time last year, Edie was sleeping on a cot at her mother’s bedside during the daylight hours—catching naps between nurse’s visits and her mother’s scattered moments of lucidity—and bartending each night from seven to three. The cancer’s attack had been swift and ruthless: one day her mother was finishing another ten-hour shift at the industrial laundry facility where she worked, suffering from nothing more than low energy that she had understandably attributed to working long hours and getting older; a month later, she was bed-bound and guzzling bag after bag of “blood product,” as the nurses always called it, the disease a web of secret insults in her middle—breast, lungs, lymph nodes, bones. Her insurance didn’t cover generated tissue transplants, which were still deemed “experimental.” So she lay in a hospital bed and suffered. “Don’t let me die,” she told Edie some days. “Take me home,” she said on others. Edie, in a fog of exhaustion and grief, didn’t know which version of her mother to trust. So she blinked as the doctors explained options to her, nodded along, approved each suggested procedure. Thinking: I’ve got to give the universe time to fix this. Thinking: Every day I get with her is better than nothing. Thinking: I can’t be the one to finish things. That can’t be on me.

(Continues…)



Excerpted from "The Salt Line"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Holly Goddard Jones.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Reading Group Guide

1. What parts of the post-dystopian society in The Salt Line do you recognize from our own world? Is this future similar to what you imagine America will look like?
2. Discuss the effects of class division in The Salt Line. In what ways does class and zone determine our characters’ fates? Why do you think wealthier citizens want to look at life outside the Salt Line?
3. How does the use of multiple narrators change your understanding of The Salt Line? Were there any characters that you particularly connected with?
4. Moral uncertainty is at the heart of The Salt Line—characters like Andy and Violet, and even June, have moments of being both heroes and villains. Do you empathize with them? Why or why not?
5. The characters in The Salt Line are drawn to nature, but also are imperiled by it. Discuss the importance of the wilderness and the role it plays throughout the novel.
6. Salt provides both positive and negative consequences throughout the novel—discuss its impact on the communities both inside and outside the Salt Line.
7. How do each of the protagonists define freedom? Where do you think true freedom lies—inside or outside of the borders?
8. Would you prefer to live inside or outside the Salt Line? Why?
9. How does fear govern the lives of those inside the zone? What kinds of fear are at play?
10. What do you think happens to Marta, Wes, and Edie after the end of the novel? Will the changes in their lives be lasting? Do you think that their decisions about whether to stay or to leave their communities were the right ones?

Customer Reviews

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The Salt Line 3.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 8 reviews.
Anonymous 7 days ago
Loved the story and wish it would have continued on. So many loose ends that there could be myriad ways to pick it back up. Good character development of the main players, although could have been fleshed out even more. The reader doesn’t know how the zones or ticks came into play but they’re here now and the ticks are killer. Despite that, people are living in the wild with the ticks, but not allowed to come into tick-free safe Zones and potentially threaten lives. No one gets to see what nature looks like though, because there is no nature in ordered, populated Zones. Unless you have a lot of money for excursions into the wild. And it gets wild out there. So the story begins. Worth the read!
Anonymous 6 months ago
I found this book very hard to put down
JBronder More than 1 year ago
A disease carrying tick has invaded our world. The miner tick bites, burrows, then released hundreds of eggs that will burst out of puss filled sores all over the body and even into the organs depending on where she burrows. What is left of humanity is gathered into zones that are treated to keep the ticks out. But there are adventure companies that will take the money of the rich for the adrenalin seekers to go camping out in the outer-zones. Our little group has mixed backgrounds and on their first night out they run into trouble. It seems a group of outer-zones survivors from Ruby City are planning on keeping their hard won land for themselves. It’s going to be a fight for survival and to get back to the other side of the Salt Line. So first off, creepy burrowing ticks that lay a ton of eggs that will burst forth baby ticks from your body. YUCK!!! I can’t help but read this mainly because of that. But this was just a little part of the story. Here you have people that are living in these government controlled zones with little privacy thinking that they have nowhere else to go so they deal with the hand they have. But there is so much more to this world than they knew. I didn’t really expect where this story was going after learning about the ticks. It was great how the four people learn how there is so much more going on and seeing how much they have been lied to over the years. This was a really good story that kept me engaged and threw me off a couple times. But over all a great read. It’s so much more than the miner ticks and I think many will like it. I received The Salt Line from Penguin Random House for free. This has in no way influenced my opinion of the book.
Deb-Krenzer More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this dystopian book. America is divided into zones with a huge "salt line" cutting it off from the western states. However, there are people living on the other side of that line. A fact that a group of folks on an "expedition" to the outer zone discover. Unfortunately, for them, those people are not always nice. Everyone "out of zone" wears suits that cover their whole body. There are miner ticks out there that burrow into your skin and multiply rapidly. It's a sure death if the tick isn't removed immediately. This was a good read for me. Unfortunately, it was written so well, that I was seeing ticks, okay maybe just black spots, everywhere I looked. HA!! I sped through this thriller that I found well written with good character development. Thanks to Penguin Putnam Group and Net Galley for providing me with a free e-galley in exchange for an honest, unbiased review.
Twink More than 1 year ago
I ran across a mention of Holly Goddard Jones' new book The Salt Line in a newsletter. The publisher's description intrigued me..."In the spirit of Station Eleven and California, award-winning novelist Holly Goddard Jones offers a literary spin on the dystopian genre with this gripping story of survival and humanity about a group of adrenaline junkies who jump 'the Salt Line'." The Salt Line defines the area of 'safe' and 'unsafe'. Civilization and the wilds. The are outside of the Line has become a tourist destination for those wealthy enough to pay for an excursion - and what's needed to survive the deadly ticks that populate the land outside the Line. But ticks aren't the only danger....there are people living on the other side of the border as well. Goddard Jones gives us an ensemble cast with numerous strong personalities and leads. They are all flawed to a degree, with some eliciting sympathy and others fueling anger. Her world building is imaginative and believable. The ticks are darn right scary - and take inspiration from the illness that ticks cause in our present day. I am always fascinated by the imagining of a populace that survives outside of a 'protected' zone. The plotting that ties the outside and the tourists back to their world is inventive and well thought out. But Goddard Jones takes a further step and spends as much time on the relationships of the characters, their thoughts, actions and interactions. I'm so very glad I stumbled across The Salt Line. I loved it - and am hoping that there might be another book in the works. There's a nice little scene at the end - some unfinished business that perhaps promises more.
Myndia More than 1 year ago
From the very beginning of this book, my mind kept wandering back to The Walking Dead (the TV show, not the comic book series). They are both dystopian, so there is that commonality. It’s set in the South (US), maybe even Georgia itself (it’s been a few weeks, forgive me), so they have that in common as well. And there is an element of people who have found a way to survive in the danger zone, to build a community that has become like family. And, as is always the case in dystopian stories, there is a bad contingent of people. But. There is minimal violence, and it isn’t particularly graphic. The world went to hell in a handbasket because of disease-carrying ticks (not zombies), and the only solution the government could come up with was to burn away a border from tick-infested areas and create some safe zones that were made tick-proof. A generation or two have grown up without ever having experienced nature. However, there are still people who go out to do work in tick-infested areas, including a company that takes adventure seekers out to experience nature and all it has to offer. It is during one of these excursions that the participants learn more than they ever wanted to about what is really going on, the truth about the tick-infestation, and some hard truths about themselves and those they love. Ultimately, I think my association with The Walking Dead has to do with the tone. It’s direct and offers no false reassurance. While TheWalking Dead is a bit more pessimistic (and therefore a great deal more violent), The Salt Line doesn’t gloss things over the same way some dystopian novels do. And there isn’t really a singular hero or leader. It didn’t feel fantastical, it felt realistic. And the storyline is actually a lot more complex than I would have expected. In many ways, it’s almost a dystopian mystery. Really enjoyed it. While I’m a sucker for dystopian of any flavor, The Salt Line was unique and refreshing. Note: I received this book from the publisher via NetGalley. I pride myself on writing fair and honest reviews.
Sensitivemuse More than 1 year ago
The first third of the book had lots of promise. I was intrigued and thrilled to read it. It had the perfect introduction of the characters you’ll stay with throughout the book and you already had a sense of who your favorite characters are. The world building was certainly interesting and the explanation of how the ticks took over the country and divided it was well done. The breakdown in stages on what happens when you get a tick bite is done in good detail and the idea of the Stamp (which is a harsh form of an epi pen) is great and also well written. However, when I went halfway to the book it started falling short. The plot started losing its’ momentum and slows to a crawl. The characters then start losing their personalities and start becoming flat and two dimensional. I’d have to say the only two characters that were the most interesting to read were Marta and Wes. Understandably so, because they were key characters throughout this book. But their chemistry together and personalities just seemed to flow together and I enjoyed reading them the most. Edie, well it took a trip like this for her to see the light about Jesse. Although I wouldn’t say she’s really likeable. She has her moments where her compassion shines towards the last third of the novel which is admirable. But there’s just nothing to her personality. She just happens to be a page filler. By the last third of the book, you could already smell that there’s going to be a possible sequel as some aspects of the characters go on unexplained or incomplete. It’s almost eye rolling when this book really should have been completed in just one volume. If there ever is going to be a sequel, it would have to be ten times much better than this one and a vast improvement on plot and characters. I’d probably pick it up only if it focused a lot more on Marta and Wes. The book had a lot of promise, but it just fell short which is disappointing. It was such a great idea for a plot and the setting was well done.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Premise looked promising, but i couldnt get past the numerous swear words to read past the third chapter. I think when an author uses this many swear words they need to improve on their writing. Won't be reading any more by this author.