Death #7
Publication date: September 5th 2014
Genres: Adult, Dystopia
~ What's It About? ~
Now middle-aged, Death’s children do their best to move forward in a world where technology and paranormal powers collide in a mix of tragedy and circumstance. Zombies have been raised for the slave trade by those Randoms in power.
Paxton Hart and Parker’s twin girls are grown and on the radar for those that understand how critical they are for the future. The tight-knit circle of friends continues to network for solutions to the depravity that has taken hold.
Can the original group right a tremendous wrong? Will the new generation of Randoms find a solution for propagation, or will their power base cannibalize those who choose harmony instead of greed?
~ Purchase ~
~ Excerpt ~
“Mom—no. Brother,” I rake a hand through my hair, on the look out for the BS bots.
They swarm inside the toxic fog of smoke, everything all screwed up by noise and odd pulse tech gone haywire.
Two ram together, fall on their mechanical asses and stumble to get up. They knock heads and fall again.
The parents watch them crash into each other.
“Not very bright,” Dad remarks.
God, Dad.
“Right, listen... you guys we need to get to Pax. He's taken off to find Deegan and he's the blinker in the group and we don't want to be stuck with them.” I sweep my hand out and they take in the idiot bots.
“They appear to ignore mundanes and focus on the paranormal.” Dad is sliding into the default Scientific Observation Mode.
Great.
“Yeah, they're juiced about everyone but Organics.”
“Caleb,” Mom says, her voice a shadow of the strident Nazi-word queen of my youth, “I think we need to go wherever we're going—right now.”
A bot advances, its circuitry is buzzing, some of the lightweight flesh of whatever alloy they've used in the manufacture torn away like a flap of scalped skin.
Instantly, I think of the Skopamish.
I repress a hysterical chuckle, the crooked mouth rising like a Phoenix. Don't think the parents will dig the humor.
“I think this one is a little brighter than the rest, son.”
It shambles forward like a metal zombie. I notice it has been soundly torched but whatever covers its body has shielded it from the blanket of my bungled torch episode.
Cripes.
“... Scalps litter the torn wounds of the driveway, some of them stuck between the gaps like raw meat caught in cement teeth....”
~ Meet The Author ~
Connect With The Author
~ Giveaway ~
Blitz-wide giveaway
--25$ Amazon Gift Card + paperback of For the Love of Death
Open to US/CA/AU/GB/UK; ends September 15th
--25$ Amazon Gift Card + paperback of For the Love of Death
Open to US/CA/AU/GB/UK; ends September 15th
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