"The author has a wonderful writing style that makes me want to dive in and not come up for air until I have turned that last page. Great job making one of my least favorite genres, a compelling read." - Goodreads, P.S.Winn
Release Date: January 31st, 2016
Our world decayed and a new world arose from the ashes of the old.
The remains of the human race cling to life decades after a decimating global plague. The infected hunt the living as the dead roam abandoned streets craving the taste of flesh. Mia and Rowan hoped to carve out a life for themselves in an apocalyptic wasteland, but fate had other plans. They’re forced to leave behind the relative safety of their home after a chance encounter challenges everything they’ve ever known.
Evolution always finds a way...
There was a deep breath followed by a series of movements somewhere behind the dwelling. Rowan studied the stretched hide that covered the top of the structure until a small slit produce a familiar face. Mia’s eyes were burning red and the darkness couldn’t hide her pain. She took a hesitant glance at something out in front of the dwelling before pulling the cover back far enough to slide in and drop down.
“Your father’s going to kill you,” Rowan whispered.
“You should talk.”
She grabbed him and pulled him close. The two kissed more passionately than either of their years could account for. She finally let him go and Rowan sat back, out of breath.
“I was worried about you,” Mia admitted.
“I need to get you worried more often.”
“That’s not funny,” she said. “The entire council is discussing what to do with you.”
“The chains kind of gave that away,” Rowan said, pulling on his binds. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Mia’s eyes went to the floor. She couldn’t bear to look up at him as she spoke.
“What happened to Darian?”
Rowan’s throat dried up all at once. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. His heart thumped in his chest as a vision of his cousin being pulled in through the abandon building’s doorway flashed through his mind.
“We went to the edge of the outlands,” he continued on before she could tell him how foolish they were, “there were so many of them.” He struggled with the words. “It was like an army of the infected moving toward the city.” He pressed his hand against her chin and raised her head. “We got trapped.”
A single tear streamed down her cheek when her eyes met his.
“I have to tell them,” Rowan said. He tried to stand up and was left hunched over when the chains didn’t come up with him. “We have to do something.”
About the author:
Michael W. Garza often finds himself wondering where his inspiration will come from next and in what form his imagination will bring it to life. The outcomes regularly surprise him and it's always his ambition to amaze those curious enough to follow him and take in those results. He hopes that everyone will find something that frightens, surprises, or simply astonishes them.
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