Tide of Souls

Tide of Souls

Simon Bestwick

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: B004IK93D8

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Flash floods devastate Britain. But the terror is just starting, as an army of the living dead emerge from the waters to hunt down the survivors. For Katja, after a year held captive by a brutal vice ring, it’s a constant fi ght to stay alive, but also a chance to win her freedom.
McTarn, an ex-soldier haunted by his past, is press-ganged into a mission to retrieve a scientist from an isolated village. When floods cut them off, he has to fight both the walking dead and his own demons to protect his men.
Stiles is the man they sent McTarn to fetch. Although apparently insane, he may be McTarn and Katja’s only chance to halt the legions of the dead closing in on their refuge in the bleak Lancashire hills. And if they fail, death will be the least they have to suffer…
“Simon Bestwick writes as if words were his – and our – only possible means of salvation.” – Joel Lane
“Simon Bestwick’s work is invested with the kind of emotional integrity that’s all too rare in fiction. His writing bears the indelible mark of quality.” – Conrad Williams

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good section commander. That's what. You've done this before." "That was before -" Before the desert road. Before all that. "Yeah, I know, mate. But you did it once, you can do it again. It's not like then. Not now. You've gotta do it. For the lads." "I know. I know." "I've got your back, Robbie. You need help, you got me. Alright?" I nodded, bumped his shoulder. "Thanks, Chas." "No probs." We managed to stay above the storms. To stop myself thinking about how much I fucking hated flying,

shouted over the tumult. "Get out while we can. We can get him better attention at a secure location." "Beg pardon, sir." It was Cannock. He stepped out of the cockpit. "We can't fly in this. Just look at it." Tidyman didn't. I'd already seen it. Even without looking, I could hear the rain hitting the bodywork. It sounded like a platoon of drummers going flat out. Like machinery. Like machine guns, all firing together. "Stop contradicting me," said Tidyman. His eyes had a fixed, unblinking

of sunlight had silhouetted them. But there had been something about them. Something... incomplete. But their hands had been outstretched. Beckoning me. And their eyes glowed green. Chapter Twenty-One I didn't venture out the following day, or the one after. I could afford not to, as I now had all the relevant provisions - bacon, eggs, bread, milk - and most importantly a couple of bottles or two of cheap Scotch. By the second night, though, I was climbing the walls and decided to risk

my chest and stomach to my cock, kissing it gently, running her tongue up and around it. When she took me in her mouth, I cried out, grabbing fistfuls of bedclothes. "Stop. Stop." But it was too late. The orgasm was so intense it damn near hurt. I sagged back with a moan. There was silence. Shit. I'd ruined it. Gone off like that. In her mouth as well; women didn't like that. I tried to mumble an apology, but she was laughing, wiping her lips. "Well," she said. "I suppose I should take that as

too late? There's no answer. From down in the depths comes the breaking of waves. And the voices. Screaming and crying out. don't want to die bastards up there in the air and the light still breathing mother father brother sister my daughter my son I strike out. Pressure. Pain. Deeper. Go deeper. I don't have long. And I don't know what to do. I'm accepting an offer that might not even still be valid. Ellen? The valley floor lies open below. Up ahead is the white house. "Ben?" I

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