By Tony Puryear, Erika Alexander
Earth's outcasts, exiled to wasteland planet and forgotten, will both break one another with gang violence or discover a route to redemption that may create whatever fullyyt new. Concrete Park, a gloomy, attractive sci-fi saga by means of Tony Puryear (screenwriter of Eraser) and Erika Alexander (Living Single), is full of unforgettable protagonists, a colourful helping forged, redemption, romance, and nonstop motion offered in an excellent, shiny type.
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Extra info for Concrete Park, Volume 1: You Send Me
I’ve been watching it for the last ten minutes, trying to figure out how I could get to it. ” As I snatched up the knife, Geoff kicked at the kidnapper, who was just getting to his feet. He howled as she hit him dead center in his groin. “Oh, that has to hurt,” I murmured as I bent over her, cutting through the nylon cord that bound her to the chair. ” “Poor guy? Are you insane? He’s a kidnapper! ” Geoff asked when her bonds fell to the ground. She rubbed her wrists, glaring down at the writhing man.
Sobs of pure frustration caught in my throat as I battled my way through the eerily grabbing tree branches until at last I saw a dark shape slumped up against a dead tree. Ben! He wore the tattered remains of a leather jacket, his shirt completely gone, his face, arms, and torso stained dark with a crisscross pattern of blood oozing up from deep slashes. As I ran toward him, his body slumped to the side. Too . . late . . I screamed in wordless horror as he died in front of me, the sound echoing in my head until I woke, drenched with sweat, from the nightmare.
I snarled, ripping off one of my black lace gloves and the thin latex glove beneath it, taking a deep breath. If it really was who I thought it was behind the kidnapping, the police wouldn’t be able to help at all, which meant it was up to me to find out who was behind the abduction of Geoff. The second my bare hand touched the chain, my head was filled with images, a variety of faces that I didn’t recognize, a confusing jumble of women in old-fashioned outfits with bodices and long skirts, of men riding horses across a coastline, waving swords and yelling at the top of their lungs, and of a big structure burning while screams ripped into the night.