Il 20 novembre uscirà – in lingua inglese – The Future Without Hope, libro conclusivo della serie The World Without End, dell’autrice americana Nazarea Andrews ed è oggi l’occasione per scoprire la cover che avrà. Ma non solo: comincia oggi un Reading legato al primo libro The World Without a Future. Se vi interessano scenari post-apocalittici, zombie, ragazzi coraggiosi che lottano per ottenere un futuro, allora siete dei nostri! La tappa del Reading toccherà anche Wonderful Monster mercoledì, ma vi dirò tutto nei prossimi post, intanto… ecco la cover!
The Future Without Hope by Nazarea Andrews
(The World Without End #3)
Publication date: November 20, 2014
Genres: Zombie, Dystopia, Horror, Romance, New Adult, Apocalyptic
Separated from Finn, captive of the Order, Nurrin has no hope left. But she has survived twenty years of zombies–and she has the unshakable faith that Finn will find her.
But Finn is a long way away. The Order’s influence runs deeper than was ever suspected, and politics are shifting–and zombies may not be the most dangerous thing she’s facing.
Finn always thought the war stripped him of all he had to lose. But with Nurrin missing and doors closing in his face, he realizes there is always more for the world to take–and he will drag the remains of civilization down with him before he gives up on the only promise that matters.
Here’s all the trilogy covers:
Each of has a moment where we hit rock bottom. Where nothing makes sense, and going on—fighting to live—is just too much. Each of us have faced that kind of devastating loss.
Before Emilie, and everything changed, life was easy. Not for everyone. There was disease and poverty, abuse and death and war. There was loss, in it’s way. But for so many, it was easy, and difficulties, when they came, faded just as quickly. Life was good.
And then the dead rose, and Atlanta fell, and nothing—not a fucking thing—was the same.
We tried. We tried to build our cities with the Haven walls, tried to keep life what it was with our false government in 1, and companies that tried to pretend that life wasn’t shattered beyond repair.
But it was. And when the dead are screaming, there is no pretending. When you have the very last thing you believe in stripped away, there is no way to look at our pretty falsehoods and see anything but the fucking lie that we’ve built out of the ashes of our dead.
We all have that moment.
And sitting here, in an empty train. This is mine.