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Rider Reaper

Written By:James Axler - 1994

  • Rider  Reaper - James Axler cover


Adventure and suspense in the midst of the new reality


The red-baked mountains of New Mexico offer a peaceful interlude for Ryan Cawdor, and a reunion with Jak Lauren. But in the violent post-holocaust world of Deathlands, survival is a blood-soaked game—and Ryan's idyll becomes a mission of revenge.

The quarry is the General and his band of paramilitary killers. Roving and plundering the Southwest, the General travels with an unsurpassed armory, his troops unchallenged, his agenda unstoppable.

Allied with local vengeance-hungry Indians, Ryan Cawdor and his warrior survivalists begin a cross-desert manhunt on horseback through the acrid canyon lands, where danger waits in the form of fifteen-foot rattlesnakes, acid-rain hurricanes—and a man who grimly prepares to destroy his pursuers.

Hope died in the Deathlands, but the will to live goes on.


The Navaho leaned down and peered into the darkness inside the wag

"Tell him to watch out," J.B. called. "Could be grens or anything in there."

But the warrior was already climbing down, feeling with his feet on the steel ladder. "Tell my brothers I count the first coup," he said. Now only his head and shoulders were visible. "This is a good day to—"

With a startling violence, the young man disappeared, cut off in midsentence.

"Fireblast!" Ryan cocked the SIG-Sauer and stared into the dark interior of the war wag, helpless to do anything to save the young Navaho from what had seized him.

Out of the stillness, floating up to the listeners, came a bubbling laugh, gentle and loathsome.

"Nice trick, you 'pache butcher. Suck on this."

They heard a cry of pain and two bodies struggling with each other... then the voice of the warrior, sounding thin and strained. "He's got a gren. Pin pulled!"

Ryan was stranded, literally sitting on top of the bomb. He kicked out at the open hatch, watching it fall in almost slow motion, and rolled backward into a clumsy somersault. When he landed on the ground, the breath was driven from his body.

Life was suddenly measured in tiny splinters of time.




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