By David Moody
On the heels of Patient 0 and Pride and Prejudice with Zombies— the electrifying sequel to Hater where humanity fights itself to the dying opposed to a backdrop of final apocalyptic destruction
The Earth has been torn into elements through an irreversible department. no matter if as a result of nature, or the unknown depths of the brain itself, everyone seems to be now both Human or Hater. sufferer or killer. Governments have fallen, command constructions have collapsed, and relationships have crumbled. significant towns became refugee camps the place human survivors cower jointly in worry. Amidst this indiscriminate carnage, Danny McCoyne is on a project to discover his daughter Ellis, confident that her shared Hater potential her allegiance is to humans like him. freed from inhibitions, unrestricted by means of stories of peace, and pushed by means of intuition, youngsters are natural Haters, and will good outline the way forward for the Hater race. yet, as McCoyne makes his method into the center of human territory, an incident at the battlefield units in position an unforeseen chain of occasions, forcing him to query every thing he believes he is familiar with concerning the new order that has arisen, and the dynamic of the dislike itself.
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Apart from the fact that going outside the so-called secure zone allowed him to escape the confines of the shitty, cramped hotel room where he, his girlfriend, and several other family members had been billeted, willing militia volunteers like him were paid with extra rations—a slender additional cut of whatever they brought back. More importantly, going out into the open and watching those evil bastards being hunted down and executed was as close to revenge as he was ever going to get. And Christ, he needed some kind of revenge or retribution.
Another few hits with the axe and another shoulder shove and it gave way. He flew into the dark, foul-smelling room and tripped over a child’s corpse that had been wrapped in what looked like an old, rolled-up projector screen. An Unchanged woman—the dead child’s mother, he presumed—ran at him from the shadows. Instead of attacking, she dropped to her knees in front of him and begged for mercy. He showed her none, grabbing a fistful of hair, then chopping his axe down into the side of her neck, killing her instantly.
How could it have come to this? He’d played here during school vacations as a kid; now look at it. The village of tents and trailers made it look more like a third-world slum than anything else. —although nothing like that ever happened here. He forced himself to look up from the never-ending crowd of refugees that seemed to cover every visible square yard of land, forced himself to shut out their constant cries and moans that were audible even over the rumble of the truck, and forced himself to ignore the foul, rancid smell that filled the air.