検索キーワード： 著者 "Wayne Kyle Spitzer" すべてのカテゴリー

Shekalane looked at him with something akin to pity. "You speak as if Ursathrax were a person. A lover, perhaps." Jamais laughed. "I suppose that's true. It is the hallmark of lonely people, to anthropomorphize. They do it to their pets quite frequently. But that is just one of her secrets...for while not a person same as you or I, she is, I believe, sentient. She is self-aware. Surely you have felt it, on those days when the leaves of the trees rustle even though there is no wind? She is alive...."

Lonny hesitated, trembling. "Y-you mean it's just trying to scare us?" Handlebar tweaked his nose. "That's right." The fire returned to the young man's eyes - almost. He looked around the shattered dock, at the riddled corpse and the oily, bloody water, at the spitting power lines and the dead lights, the peeling boardwalk on the shore. "No, it's not. It-it doesn't pretend, like you. It's gonna kill us, that's all." He glanced at the corpse. "And we probably just killed its mate."

It's the dawn of the 1970s, and everything is changing. Enter "The Kid", a panic-prone, hyper-imaginative boy whose life changes drastically when his father brings home an astronaut white El Camino. His birthday arms him with a pair of novelty X-Ray Specs - and as the Camino muscles them through a decade of economic and cultural turmoil, the Kid comes to believe he can see through metal, clothing, skin - to the center of the universe itself, where he imagines something monstrous.

"You know me to be a ferryman", I said, pushing the circlet up and over my forehead. "How?" "Why, by taking one look at you, that's how! You've no mask, that much is true, nor have you a scythe, as I've said...you've the cloak, all right, but that can be purchased at even the lowliest of costume shops; I've one just like it in my wagon here, in fact. No, this is something in the face itself. It's an aura." He paused, appraising me coldly. "You've the heart of a ferryman."

Napoleon napped as rain spotted the habitat's skylight. Tonight as any other, he'd fallen asleep listening to the footfalls of spiders. But now, his super-keen ears detected something else - something more than rain ticking off glass. It was a faint squeaking noise, like chittering rats. His eyelids parted moistly, revealing yellow crescents which shined in the dark, and he blinked several times, awakening. The sound was that of his nemesis. Drawing closer.

A funny thing happened to Roger and Savanna Aldiss on the Interstate - they hit a dinosaur. But that's nothing compared to what awaits them down the road. For something is at work to reverse time itself, something which makes the clouds boil, glowing with strange lights, and ancient trees to appear out of nowhere. Something against which Roger, Savanna, a motorcycle gang, and others will make their final stand. Prehistory lives as ferocious dinosaurs run amok! Science-fiction and horror fans (and especially B-movie lovers) will enjoy this gory, action-packed thriller in the tradition of Roger Corman and George Romero.

There were six of them in total, more than had been present in the bar (not that it mattered, they would have rounded up others, I was sure). The important thing is that it was them — the MAGA crew — of that I had little doubt. Three of them were crowded into the cab while three others rode in the payload — all of them wearing crudely-stitched burlap hoods — and each brandishing some form of weapon, whether that meant a pistol or a rifle or a rusty pitchfork.