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Chapters (92)
  1. Other Books by this Author
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. The Worst Dream in the World
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. The Year of Zero
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. The Last City
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. All Eyes
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. Chapter Twenty-Three
  31. Girl from Nowhere
  32. Chapter Twenty-Four
  33. Chapter Twenty-Five
  34. Chapter Twenty-Six
  35. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. Chapter Thirty-One
  40. Chapter Thirty-Two
  41. Chapter Thirty-Three
  42. Chapter Thirty-Four
  43. The Night of Blades and Stars
  44. Chapter Thirty-Five
  45. Chapter Thirty-Six
  46. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  47. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  48. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  49. Chapter Forty
  50. Chapter Forty-One
  51. The Darklands
  52. Chapter Forty-Two
  53. Chapter Forty-Three
  54. Chapter Forty-Four
  55. Chapter Forty-Five
  56. Chapter Forty-Six
  57. The Haven
  58. Chapter Forty-Seven
  59. Chapter Forty-Eight
  60. Chapter Forty-Nine
  61. Chapter Fifty
  62. Chapter Fifty-One
  63. Chapter Fifty-Two
  64. Chapter Fifty-Three
  65. Chapter Fifty-Four
  66. Chapter Fifty-Five
  67. The Last Expeditionary
  68. Chapter Fifty-Six
  69. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  70. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  71. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  72. Chapter Sixty
  73. Chapter Sixty-One
  74. The Angel of the Mountain
  75. Chapter Sixty-Two
  76. Chapter Sixty-Three
  77. Chapter Sixty-Four
  78. Chapter Sixty-Five
  79. Chapter Sixty-Six
  80. Chapter Sixty-Seven
  81. Chapter Sixty-Eight
  82. Chapter Sixty-Nine
  83. Chapter Seventy
  84. The New Thing
  85. Chapter Seventy-One
  86. Chapter Seventy-Two
  87. Chapter Seventy-Three
  88. Chapter Seventy-Four
  89. Postscript - Roswell Road
  90. Acknowledgments
  91. About the Author
  92. Copyright

He shuddered, as if trying to loosen its hold from his memory. “Just horrible. Her voice. And that stink.”

“Whose voice, Sergeant?”

“Some fat woman,” Withers answered. “Some big ugly fat woman, breathing smoke.”

At the head of the line, lifting his head from the engine of the disabled five-ton, Michael saw Alicia—racing down the ridge, galloping through the snow. She tore past him toward the back of the line, calling for Greer.

What the hell?

Wilco was standing beside Michael, mouth open, eyes following the path of Alicia’s horse. The rest of Alicia’s squad was coming down the ridge now, riding toward them.

“Finish this,” Michael said, and when Wilco said nothing, he pressed the wrench into his hand. “Just do it and be quick. I think we’re moving out.”

Michael took off after her, following the tracks she had made in the snow. With every step the feeling grew: Alicia had seen something, something bad, over the ridge. Hollis and Sara climbed from the back of the truck, all of them converging on Greer and Alicia, who had both dismounted; Alicia was pointing over the ridge, her arm swinging in a broad swath, then kneeling, drawing frantically in the snow. As Michael came upon them, he heard Greer saying, “How many?”

“They must have moved through last night. The tracks are still fresh.”

“Major Greer—” This was Sara.

Greer held up a hand, cutting her off. “How many, goddamnit?”

Alicia rose. “Not many,” she said. “The Many. And they’re headed straight for that mountain.”

Chapter Sixty-Four


SIXTY-FOUR

Theo awoke not with a start but with a feeling of tumbling; he was rolling and falling, into the living world. His eyes were open. They had been open, he realized, for some time. The baby, he thought. He reached for Mausami and found her beside him. She shifted under his touch, drawing her knees upward. That’s what it was. He’d been dreaming of the baby.

He was chilled to the bone, and yet his skin was slick with sweat. He wondered if he had a fever. You had to sweat to break a fever; that’s what Teacher had always said, and his mother, too, her fingers stroking his face as he lay in bed, burning up. But that was long ago, a memory of a memory. He hadn’t had a fever in so many years he’d forgotten what it felt like.