By Greg Bear
Together with his acclaimed novels Darwin’s Children and Vitals, award-winning writer Greg endure grew to become fascinating hypothesis approximately human evolution and immortality into stories of unrelenting suspense. Now he ventures into decidedly extra scary territory in a haunting mystery that blends glossy know-how and outdated terror, because it charts one man’s inexorable descent right into a international of mounting supernatural dread.
For the final years, Peter Russell has mourned the dying of 1 of his dual daughters—who used to be simply ten while she used to be murdered. fresh information of his top friend’s deadly center assault has now come as one other devastating blow. Divorced, despondent, and going nowhere in his occupation, Peter fears his lifestyles is circling the drain. Then Trans comes alongside. The brainchild of an upstart telecom corporation, Trans is (as its identify indicates) a transcendent wonder: a swish, hand held interpersonal communique equipment able to perfect operation anyplace on the planet, at any time. “A cellphone, yet not”—transmitting with crystal readability throughout a newly chanced on, never-utilized bandwidth… and poised to spark a new-technology revolution. while its creators provide Peter a place on their staff, it may be a golden chance for him. If merely he wasn’t doubtless going mad.
Everywhere Peter turns, inexplicable apparitions are jogging ahead of him or achieving out in torment. After a chilling come upon along with his personal misplaced baby he starts off to understand the terrifying fact: Trans is a Pandora’s field that has tapped right into a frequency now not of this world… yet of the subsequent. And now, through this open channel to oblivion, the lifeless have received entry to the dwelling. For Peter, and for humankind, an extended, shadowy evening of the soul has descended, bringing with it the stuff of a frightening nightmare from which they could by no means awaken.
By turns spine-tingling, provocative, and heart-wrenching, Dead Lines marks an enormous turning element within the always awesome storytelling occupation of Greg undergo. along its hero, Dead Lines friends into the darkest position we will think and wonders—fearfully—what may be peering again.
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I ignored her. You can’t fight demons if you’re worried about breaking a nail. Milsap braced both hands on the sink, then raised his dripping head. Hunched over, he peered into the mirror. He looked terrible. His bloodshot eyes blinked above bags you could pack groceries in, scratches crisscrossed his cheeks and neck, and a faint purple stain blotched his face like a birthmark. His wild Einstein mane, matted and streaked with purple, looked like a costume-shop fright wig someone had left out in the rain.
Nice flowers, Clyde,” I greeted the doorman. ” “Actually, no. ” For me? Who’d be sending me flowers? My first thought, with a flutter of pleasure, was Kane, but that was silly—he came to mind because I’d just been thinking about him. Who, then? Sometimes grateful clients sent gifts, but most of my recent demon exterminations had been run-of-the-mill. Except tonight’s. Somehow, though, I didn’t think Professor Milsap had speed-dialed his favorite all-night florist to show me his undying gratitude for getting rid of that Glitch.
I don’t know. ” Boston’s zombies, like their horror-movie counterparts, were hard to kill. Direct exposure to sunlight made their skin deteriorate—a “zombie sunburn” caused orange, pitted, permanently damaged skin—but it didn’t kill them. A zombie could fall off a building, walk through a raging fire, be riddled with bullets, chug a gallon of drain cleaner, and then go out for pizza. Zombies didn’t feel pain, but neither did they heal. A burned or bullet-riddled zombie would survive, but the flesh would remain charred, the holes always open.