By James Axler
While all is misplaced, there is regularly the long run. however the destiny in an international shrouded within the radioactive purple dirt clouds of a generation-old worldwide nuclear warfare will depend on discovering hidden caches of meals, guns and technology--the legacy of a preholocaust society--stashed in lonely outposts referred to as redoubts. whilst Ryan Cawdor discovers a redoubt within the sour freakish desolate tract that now passes for Alaska, he additionally uncovers a brand new probability to a slowly reemerging the United States.
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Additional info for Deathlands 02 Red Holocaust
But again there were survivors. And they bred and their children bred. Three generations and close to a hundred years passed. Most of the United States was changed. Deserts in Texas, Arizona and New Mexico became fiery nuke hot spots where storms carrying rain of undiluted acid howled in from the Gulf. Most of California had slipped unprotesting into the seething Pacific. Volcanoes and earthquakes had changed the maps forever. Except that there weren't any maps. On the East Coast, the big cities crumbled in the endless rain.
On the war wags, ambushes and traps were part of everyday life. The best chance of escape was almost always in the first paralyzing breaths. Everyone knew that. Now all of them moved and turned like caged animals, fingers white on triggers, eyes raking the walls and floor and ceiling for some hint of an escape route. But the only marks that sullied the smooth whiteness were the pockmarks where Okie had wasted the vid camera. It was a frenetic ballet of nerves. Knowing that everyone was riding the knife edge, Ryan called for calm.
And the trader told his tale in a stammering rush of tears. And still squeezing until every finger bone was cracked and splintered, one against the other. Then pushing the crippled man to the floor among the straw and spilled wine and vomit. " asked Urach, the Doctor, reining his pony alongside Uchitel's. Urach was the only other man in the party who could read and write. But his nickname—it should have been Surgeon—came from his skill with knives. "No," Uchitel replied, annoyed at having his reverie interrupted.