A dventure and suspense in the midst of the new reality
SURVIVORS IN A WORLD GONE HIDEOUSLY WRONG...
Ryan Cawdor's post-holocaust odyssey across America is about to come full circle—Ryan Cawdor is going home.
Forced away from Front Royal years earlier by a power-mad brother who had already committed fraticide, Ryan had roamed a devastated America searching out the small pockets of life where civilization was being reborn.
Emerging from a gateway in the ruins of New York City, Ryan decides to put his own house in order—it's time to avenge the deaths of his father and older brother.
Accompanied by Krysty Wroth and J.B. Dix, Ryan Cawdor comes face-to-face with the harsh reality of post-nuclear America. In the Deathlands, honor and fair play are words of the past. Vengeance is a word to live by.
The mist swallowed the raft in gulps of sinuous gray damp
Ryan noticed an unnatural flurry of movement among the rancid weeds that crowded down to the brink of the water, now only fifty paces from the raft.
"Push it away," he called urgently, taking one of the branches himself and poling off.
"What d'you see?" Krysty panted, throwing all her weight against the steering oar.
"Nothing. Something. I don't know."
"I heard something. Like someone laughing. But someone who didn't have a proper mouth. Does that seem stupid?"
"No. Not down here it doesn't."
A hand erupted from the water, gripping Ryan's wrist with grotesquely long fingers. The skin was creased, hanging at the wrist in folds, and the face that emerged from behind the hand was worse than anything from the depths of a jolt-spawned nightmare. The fearsome jaw protruded eighteen inches beyond the gaping holes of the nostrils, and the clashing teeth! Row upon row of overlapping, sharp fangs.
With his left hand pinioned, and lying on his right side, Ryan couldn't get at either his blaster or his panga.
Life was a bare handful of heartbeats.