By John Shirley
Already optioned for function movie, an unique darkish and gritty city fable novel from acclaimed and award-winning writer John Shirley!
In near-future long island urban, bounty hunter Gabriel Bleak, a guy blessed and cursed being able to converse with the useless, is relentlessly hunted via a clandestine executive association with mysterious hyperlinks to his previous. Now Bleak and the Shadow Community—a slowly transforming into underground workforce with supernatural abilities—must discover the looming threat led to by way of these on the top echelons of strength, otherwise threat a go back to the darkish ages...where an incredible evil awaits.
Vivid, surreal, and suspenseful, Bleak historical past is an intensely exciting learn from an writer whose tales "give off the nippiness of top-grade horror" (The ny occasions e-book Review).
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Additional info for Bleak History
Buddy already did you,” Bleak had tried to tell him. “Or somebody sent by Buddy. You're already dead. ” Bleak sometimes tried to kid the ghosts out of their self-centeredness. But they clung to it— though their fixations kept them ghosts. “Tell Buddy I'm going to pay him off, he don't have to do nothing. I'm gonna get all the shit for him. ” Feeling headachy and sick to his stomach, Bleak had cut the connection, like hanging up on a phone call. Remembering the jogging-suit ghost, Bleak shook himself, looking around to reboot his mind.
Bleak saw the female agent at the corner, with Arnie just behind her. Trying to block him off. He took in a deep breath and cut to the right, dodging around a wheezing fat woman with runny eye makeup and a bearded man in a turban; ducked behind a disused mailbox, then cut between two parked taxis and ran into traffic, right in front of a bus. He sprinted past the front of a big city bus a whisker ahead of being run down, the bus blaring its horn—then he turned to follow it through the intersection, running along beside it.
He found he was writing them inside the circle. Gulcher heard the door of his cell clang shut behind him, the lockdown triggered by the guards, but he ignored that. He knew it wouldn't matter. ” Jock shouted from the next cell. “You're right, I feel weird! I'm, like, hearing shit too! ” he shouted back, as he dripped blood on his right hand, from the wound, covering the whole palm, the fingers. “Now, apply the mark of your hand to the interior of the circle, to complete the connection,” said the whisperer.
Bleak History by John Shirley