By F. Paul Wilson
Darkish urban is the second one of a brand new prequel trilogy, Repairman Jack: The Early Years via F. Paul Wilson.
It’s February 1992. wilderness hurricane is raging in Iraq yet twenty-two-year-old Jack has extra urgent issues at domestic. His favourite bar, The Spot, is set to be offered out from below Julio, Jack’s buddy. Jack has been anything of a tag-along so far, yet now he is taking the reins and demonstrates his innate expertise for seeing biters get bit. With a physique count number even greater than in chilly urban, this moment novel of the Early Years Trilogy hurtles Jack into the ultimate quantity within which all ratings might be settled, all bills paid.
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Kate Winters has gained immortality. but when she wishes a existence with Henry within the Underworld, she'll need to struggle for it.
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Extra resources for Dark City (Repairman Jack: The Early Years, Book 2)
I didn’t. My time was up. Just then, the door opened, and the two men came into the room. My heart would’ve sunk when I saw them, except my heart had already sunk so low there was nowhere left for it to go. But these two—these men—you could see it in their eyes: they were the worst kind of enemies to have. Not even evil—just obedient to evil, just dead in their hearts and minds and following blindly whatever orders they were given. Right now, their orders were “Kill him”— that meant me. One look at them, and I knew no matter what I said, they would follow those orders to the end.
I said—and he stopped. I turned back to Rat Face. “One . . ” I said. Rat Face’s frantic hands fumbled their way to the strap on my right wrist. It took him a second to steady his fingers enough to do the job. A second later, the strap came loose. Heaving the right side of my body up off the chair, I hurled Rat Face across the room. He smashed hard into the chest of drawers and collapsed to the floor. He lay there, panting, clutching his throat with one hand and his midsection with the other.
It wasn’t easy. In my terror, I found it hard to get my eyes to keep still, to train them on things and take them in. I had to force myself to do it. I looked at my left wrist first. At the chair arm it was strapped to. Nothing. The strap was strong and secure. The metal of the chair was smooth. Same with my right wrist. My hand extended over the arm of the chair. I could open and close it into a fist. But there was nothing within reach, nothing I could get hold of. What about my ankles? I had to lean forward in the chair as far as I could to get a look at the front of them, then lean over to the side to get another angle.