SURVIVAL RUN ...across a nuclear wasteland, where rampaging winds sweep the ruins of civilization over the charred plains and shattered mountains of America. Where huge bats battle gigantic butterflies in the contaminated rubble of barren cities and where armies of madmen crucify scientists along the deserted highways.
Damnation Alley. Where a handful of survivors pilot their awesome, fire-breathing machine on a coast-to-coast trek through a world gone to hell.
AN EPIC S-F VOYAGE FROM 20TH CENTURY FOX
HELL AND DAMNATION
Hell Tanner... the vicious loner, last survivor of the exterminated cycle gangs, condemned to death—with one chance for a dubious reprieve...
Damnation Alley... the savage route across a blasted continent, teeming with monsters, deadly radiation, and insanely lethal storms...
CALL IT SURVIVAL
CALL IT DAMNATION
The flame shot forth, orange and cream blossoms of combustion. When they folded, Tanner sighted in the screen and squeezed the trigger. He swung the gun, and they fell. Their charred bodies lay all about him, and he added new ones to the smoldering heaps.
"Roll it!" he cried, and the car moved forward, swaying, bat bodies crunching beneath its tires.
Tanner laced the heavens with gunfire, and when they swooped again, he strafed them and fired a flare.
In the sudden magnesium glow from overhead, it seemed that millions of vampire-faced forms were circling, spiraling down toward them.Berkley - June 1970
To the squares, this was
To Hell Tanner, this was still the parking lot... as far as he was concerned, the Alley started in the place that was once called Colorado...
No airplane could make it. Not since the war. None could venture above a couple hundred feet, the place where the winds began... the mighty winds that circled the globe, tearing off the tops of mountains... the winds that swirled about the world, lacing the skies with dark lines of debris, occasionally meeting, merging, clashing, dropping tons of garbage wherever they came together and formed too great a mass...TOR - Sep 1984 - 1st Printing
Hell and Damnation
Tanner pushed ahead, cutting a diagonal by the green sunset. Dust continued to fall about him, great clouds of it, and the sky was violet, then purple once more. Then the sun went down and the night came on, and the stars were very faint points of light somewhere above it all. After a time the moon rose, and the half-face that it showed that night was the color of a glass of Chianti wine held before a candle.
He lit another cigarette and began to curse, slowly, softly, and without emotion.
Hell Tanner on Damnation Alley.
The sky sounded like an artillery range. A boulder the size of a tombstone fell in front of him, and he swerved around it. Red lights flashed across the sky from north to south. In their passing, he detected many black bands going from west to east. It was not an encouraging spectacle. The storm could go on for days.
He continued to move forward, skirting a pocket of radiation that had not died in the four years since last he had come this way...
They came upon a place where the sands were fused into a glassy sea, and he slowed as he began its passage, peering ahead after the craters and chasms it contained. Something big and batlike swooped through the tunnel of his lights and was gone. He ignored its passage...
To the squares, this was Damnation Alley. To Hell Tanner, this was still the parking lot. He'd been this way thrity-two times, and so far he was concerned, the Alley started in the place that had once been called Colorado.
Hell Tanner's passage through Damnation Alley is an epic which gives Roger Zelazny's vigor and talent full play—a dazzling SF novel with a lean, fast narrative drive.