3.9 104
by David Moody

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A bastard hybrid of War of the Worlds and Night of the Living Dead, Autumn chronicles the struggle of a small group of survivors forced to contend with a world torn apart by a deadly disease. After 99% of the population of the planet is killed in less than 24 hours, for the very few who have managed to stay alive, things are about to get much


A bastard hybrid of War of the Worlds and Night of the Living Dead, Autumn chronicles the struggle of a small group of survivors forced to contend with a world torn apart by a deadly disease. After 99% of the population of the planet is killed in less than 24 hours, for the very few who have managed to stay alive, things are about to get much worse. Animated by "phase two" of some unknown contagion, the dead begin to rise. At first slow, blind, dumb and lumbering, quickly the bodies regain their most basic senses and abilities... sight, hearing, locomotion... As well as the instinct toward aggression and violence. Held back only by the restraints of their rapidly decomposing flesh, the dead seem to have only one single goal - to lumber forth and destroy the sole remaining attraction in the silent, lifeless world: those who have survived the plague, who now find themselves outnumbered 1,000,000 to 1...

Without ever using the 'Z' word, Autumn offers a new perspective on the traditional zombie story. There's no flesh eating, no fast-moving corpses, no gore for gore's sake. Combining the atmosphere and tone of George Romero's classic living dead films with the attitude and awareness of 28 Days (and Weeks) later, this horrifying and suspenseful novel is filled with relentless cold, dark fear.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

“With AUTUMN, David Moody paints a picture of a marvelously bleak dystopian future where the world belongs to the hungry dead. It's the creepy start to a compelling series.” —Jonathan Maberry, multiple Bram Stoker Award-winning author of Patient Zero and Zombie CSU

“Zombie fans rejoice! One of the original zombie novels is back from the grave to remind us all why the walking dead are so scary, and what it means to have a front-row seat for the end of the world. Autumn is genuinely creepy, an atmospheric study of what happens when the dead come back--and what we have to do just to survive.” —David Wellington, Author of Monster Island, Monster Nation, 99 Coffins

multiple Bram Stoker Award-winning author of Patie Jonathan Maberry

With AUTUMN, David Moody paints a picture of a marvelously bleak dystopian future where the world belongs to the hungry dead. It's the creepy start to a compelling series.
Library Journal
In under 24 hours, a contagion kills 99 percent of the human race. The immune few survivors only have a few days to pull together before the dead begin to rise again, at first just wandering catatonically, then gradually developing volition, but never aggression. The corpses present a danger because of their sheer numbers, and they are attracted to the slightest noise. This marks the first print publication of the novel; it's been available free online since 2001 and has a cult following. BZG The word zombie never appears in the story. [Library marketing; this is the first of a five-book series that will be republished by Thomas Dunne Books.—Ed.]
Kirkus Reviews

When a fast-moving virus decimates the population, the few survivors struggle to make lives for themselves, even as some of the dead come back as mindless zombies.

The virus spread at an incredible speed, leaving almost everyone dead, seemingly in minutes. Those few unaffected by it were left with nothing but questions. What caused the virus? Did it spread worldwide? And what to do now that almost everyone is dead? In a smallish English city, a tiny group of survivors finds one another and holes up at a community center, but just when they're starting to settle in, something mind-boggling happens—a large number of the dead slowly get up and start shuffling around. One survivor, Michael Collins, senses danger and decides that it is no longer safe in the city. He suggests that the group head for the relative safety that isolation in the country would provide. Most of the group decides to stay at the community center, but two others, Emma Mitchell and Carl Henshawe, join him, finally settling in at a remote farmhouse. They barricade themselves inside, mostly out of revulsion for the disgusting, but seemingly harmless, shuffling corpses. Before long, though, they notice a change, as the bodies seem to become increasingly aware of their surroundings, and more aggressive. Soon, isolated from a world that is mostly dead and surrounded by rotting, potentially dangerous corpses, the survivors begin to wonder whether there is any point in staying alive.The booktrades the usual relentless drive of typical zombie horror for a slow, almost stately buildup. Unfortunately, the pace is far too slow, especially since the reader knows exactly where the story is going early on. Even though none of the characters utter the word "zombie" (which is odd, considering), it seems likely from the start that at some point the seemingly harmless re-animated corpses will turn on the survivors in relentless waves. The fact that it takes so long to get to the good stuff only makes the plot drag more.

Standard zombie fare from Moody (Dog Blood, 2010), slowed down to a lifeless crawl.

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4.98(w) x 8.03(h) x 0.64(d)

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By David Moody

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2010 David Moody
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-4337-6


Carl Henshawe was over three-quarters of the way home before he realized anything had happened.

The early morning sun was low on the horizon as he drove back from the Carter & Jameson factory just north of Billhampton. He'd been there since just after four, fixing an insignificant repair which had hardly warranted him being called out in the middle of the night. Simpson — the wily bastard who ran the night shift there — was too tight to pay for new machinery and too smart to have his own men fix the problem when he could call someone else out. He knew the maintenance contract inside out, better even than Carl's employers. Never mind, he thought to himself as he tried to drink a cup of coffee with one hand, tune the radio with the other and still keep the van moving, being on twenty-four-hour call paid well, and Christ, did they need the money. He loved his family more than anything, but neither he nor Sarah had been prepared for the extra expense of having another mouth to feed. Gemma, their perfect little girl, was costing them a fortune.

Damn radio. Must be something wrong with it, he decided. One minute there was the usual music interspersed with inane chatter and drivel, the next just silence. Not even static. The final notes of the last song faded away and were replaced with nothing.

The sun flashed through the tops of the trees, blinding Carl intermittently. He knew he should slow down but he wanted to get home and see Gemma before Sarah took her to nursery. He shielded his eyes as he took a tight bend too fast, then slammed on his brakes as a small, mustard-yellow–colored car raced toward him, careening down the middle of the road. He swerved hard to the right to avoid an impact and braced himself as the van bumped up the verge at the side of the road. He watched in his rearview mirror as the other car continued forward, its speed undiminished, before clattering up the curb and thumping into the base of a wide oak tree.

Carl sat unmoving in his seat and gazed into the mirror, unable for a moment to fully comprehend what had just happened. The sudden silence was unbearable. Then, as the shock slowly began to fade and the reality of the situation sank in, he got out of the van and ran over to the crash. His mind was racing; his focus entirely self-concerned. It'll be his word against mine, he anxiously thought. I wasn't concentrating. If he sues and they find against me, I'll probably lose my job. As it is I'll have to explain why I ...

Carl stood in the middle of the road and stared at the body of the car's driver, slumped forward with his face smashed into the steering wheel. His legs heavy, he took another couple of nervous steps closer. The car had hit the tree at an incredible speed making, it seemed, no attempt to either slow down or swerve. Its bonnet had hit so hard it had virtually wrapped itself right around the trunk.

He opened the door and crouched down, face level with the driver. He knew immediately that the man was dead. His empty eyes stared at him, somehow seeming to blame Carl for what had just happened. Blood was pouring — not dripping — from a deep gash on the bridge of his nose and from his mouth, which hung open, pooling under the pedals in the foot-well. Suddenly nauseous, Carl leaned over the crumpled front of the car and emptied the contents of his stomach in the grass.

Got to do something. Phone for help.

He ran back to the van and grabbed his mobile from its holder on the dashboard. It's easier knowing he's dead, he tried to convince himself, feeling guilty for even daring think such thoughts. I can just tell the police that I was driving along and I found the car crashed into the tree. No one needs to know that I was here when it happened. No one needs to know that I probably caused it.

No one was picking up. He looked at the phone's display and dialed 999. Strange. Plenty of battery power left and the signal strength was good. He cancelled the call and tried again. Then again. Then again. Then another number. Then the office. Then the number of the factory he'd just come from. Then his home number ... Sarah's mobile ... his dad's house ... his best mate ... nothing. No one answered.

Get a grip, he told himself, trying not to panic. There had been no other traffic on the road since the crash. If no one's seen you here, his frightened and flawed logic dictated, then no one needs to know you were ever here at all. Before he could talk himself out of it, he got back into the van and started to drive. Maybe he'd call the police anonymously later, he decided, trying to appease his guilt. I don't even need to tell them about the body. I'll just tell them I've seen a crash at the side of the road.

A mile and a half farther down the road, Carl spotted another car. His conscience getting the better of him, he decided to change his plan and stop and tell the driver about what he'd seen. There's safety in numbers, he thought. They could drive back to the scene of the crash, and then report it together. As he neared the car he saw that it had stopped, parked at an awkward angle across the dotted white line, straddling both lanes of the road. The door was wide open and the driver's seat was empty. He pulled up alongside the car and saw that there were three people inside; a mother in the front and two children in the back. Their frozen faces were filled with agony and panic. Their skin was gray and he could see trickles of blood running down the chin of the boy nearest to him. He didn't need to look any closer to know that they were dead. He found the lifeless body of the missing driver a few meters farther along the road, sprawled across the tarmac.

Carl slammed his foot down on the accelerator and raced away, his head spinning, hoping every time he turned a corner that he'd see someone alive who could help him, or at least explain what had happened. The farther he drove without seeing anyone, however, the more obvious it became that in the space of a few miles' drive, everything had been changed forever.

The level of Carl's panic and fear was such that he'd seen more than another fifty lifeless bodies — bodies which had all seemed to simply fall and die where they'd been standing — before it occurred to him that whatever had happened here had probably happened to his family too. He drove back home at a dangerous speed, swerving around the corpses in the streets, then parked the van outside his house and ran to the front door. With his hands trembling, he forced the key into the lock and shoved the door open. He shouted out for Sarah but there was no reply. The house was cold and silent. He slowly walked upstairs, almost too afraid to open the bedroom door, tormenting himself with unanswerable questions. If I'd driven faster, would I have been home in time to help? If I'd wasted less time with the corpses at the roadside, would I have been here for them when they needed me most?

His heart pounding and his legs weak, he went into the bedroom and found his wife and daughter lying dead together. Gemma's head hung over the edge of the bed, her mouth open wide in the middle of a silent scream. There was blood on Sarah's white nightdress and on the bedsheets and floor. His eyes stinging with tears, he begged them both to wake up; pleaded with them to respond; shook and screamed at them to move.

Carl couldn't stand to leave, but he couldn't bear to stay there either. He kissed Sarah and Gemma good-bye and covered them with a sheet before locking the door and walking away from his home. He spent hours stepping through the hundreds of bodies outside, too afraid even to shout for help.


Michael Collins stood in front of a class of thirty-three fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds, tongue-tied and terrified. Under his breath he cursed Steve Wilkins, his idiot of a boss, for forcing him to do this. He hated public speaking and he hated kids, teenagers especially. He remembered having to sit through things like this when he was at school. "Industry into Schools" days they used to be called. Days when, instead of listening to their teacher drone on for hours, kids were instead made to listen to unwilling volunteers like him telling them how wonderful the job they really despised was. Michael hated compromising himself like this, but he didn't have any choice. Wilkins had made it perfectly clear that his performance today would be directly linked to the quarterly bonus he was due to receive at the end of this month. Wilkins came out with some bullshit about how his middle managers were "figureheads of the company." Michael knew that, in reality, his middle managers were just there for him to hide behind.

"You gonna say anything?" a scrawny kid in a baseball cap sneered. Michael tried to stay calm and not react, but the way the end of his notes shook made his nervousness obvious to the entire class. The sadistic teenagers quickly seized on his apparent weakness.

"The work we do at Carradine Computers is extremely varied and interesting," he began, lying through his teeth, his voice wavering. "We're responsible for ..."

"Sir ..." a lad said from the middle of the room, waving his hand frantically in the air and grinning.


"I think you should just give up now. No one's listening!"

The rest of the class — those who weren't reading magazines, drawing on their desks, or blatantly listening to music through headphones — began to jeer. Some hid their sniggers behind their hands, others rocked back on their chairs and laughed out loud. Michael looked to the teacher at the back of the class for support but as soon as he made eye contact with her, she looked away.

"As I was saying," he continued, not knowing what else to do, "we look after a wide range of clients, from small, one-man firms to multinational corporations. We advise them on the right software to use, the systems to buy and ..."

Another interruption, this one more physical. A fight had broken out on side corner of the room. One boy had another in a headlock.

"James Clyde, cut it out," the teacher yelled. "Anyone would think you didn't want to listen to Mr. Collins."

As if the behavior and apathy of the students wasn't bad enough, now even the teacher was being sarcastic. Suddenly the stifled laughter was released and the whole room was out of control. Michael threw his notes down onto the desk and was about to walk out when he noticed that a girl in the far right corner of the room was coughing. It sounded painful and cut through the rest of the chaotic noise. More than just an ordinary cough, it was a vile, rasping, hacking scream of a cough, which sounded as if it was tearing the very insides of her throat apart with each painful convulsion. He took a few steps toward her and then stopped. Other than her choking, the rest of the room had become silent. He watched as her head jerked forward, showering her desk and hands with sticky strings and splashes of bloody spit. She looked up at him, her eyes terrified and wide. She was suffocating. Michael glanced at the teacher again. This time she stared back at him, fear and confusion clear on her face. She began to massage her own neck.

A boy on the other side of the room began to cough and wheeze. He got halfway out of his seat, then fell back again. A girl just behind and to the right of Michael began to cry and then to cough. The teacher tried to stand but then fell out of her seat and hit the floor ... within thirty seconds of the first girl starting, every single person in the room was tearing at their throats, fighting to breathe. Every single person except Michael.

Numb with shock and not knowing what to do or where to go to get help, Michael staggered back toward the classroom door. He tripped over a student's bag and grabbed hold of the nearest desk to steady himself. A girl's hand slammed down onto his and he stared into her face, deathly white save for dark trickles of crimson blood which ran down her chin and dripped onto her desk. He pulled his hand away and opened the classroom door. The noise inside the room had been horrific enough but out here it was even worse. Screams of agony rang out through the entire school. From every classroom and from places as remote as assembly halls, gymnasiums, workshops, kitchens and offices, the morning air was filled with the terrified noise of hundreds of children and adults suffocating and choking to death.

By the time Michael had walked the length of the corridor and was halfway down the stairs to the main entrance, the school was silent. A boy was sprawled on the ground at the foot of the stairs. He crouched down next to him and cautiously reached out his hand, pulling it away again as soon as he touched his skin. It felt clammy and unnatural, almost like wet leather. Forcing himself to overcome his fear, he rolled the boy over onto his back. Like the kids in the classroom his face was ghostly white, his lips and chin smeared with blood and spittle. Michael leaned down as close as he dared and put his ear next to his mouth, praying that he would hear even the slightest sounds of breathing, wishing that the suddenly silent world would not become quieter still. It was no use. He was dead.

Michael walked out into the cool September sunlight and crossed the empty playground. Just one glance at the devastated world beyond the school gates was enough for him to know that whatever had happened inside the building had happened outside too. Random, fallen bodies littered the streets for as far as he could see.

He didn't know what to do. He considered his options as he walked; go back to work and look for people there? Try the hospitals and police stations? He decided to head back home, change his clothes and pack a bag, then head deeper into town. He couldn't be the only one left alive.


Emma Mitchell felt depressingly sick, cold, and tired. Everything was an effort this morning. The head cold which had been threatening for a few days had finally hit her hard. She decided to skip classes and stay in bed. She'd tried to study for a while, but gave up when she realized she'd started reading the same paragraph five times without ever making it past the third line. She decided to fix herself some food, but then couldn't find anything to eat. Her bloody flatmate had been taking her stuff again. She'd have to talk to her again when she got back tonight, she decided. The last thing Emma wanted to do was go out, but she didn't have any choice. She put on as many layers of clothing as she could stand and dragged herself to the store at the end of Maple Street.

There were only two other customers in Mr. Rashid's shop. Emma was minding her own business, haggling with herself and trying to justify spending a few pence more on her favorite brand of spaghetti sauce, when an elderly man lunged at her. She shoved him back ... she wasn't sure to: She instinctively shoved him back but then realised he was struggling to breathe. Her mind immediately began racing, sudden surprise and panic taking hold. What do I do? She was just a few terms into a five-years course of medical studies and she wasn't sure. Did she use her limited knowledge to try and work out what was wrong, or just use commonsense first aid to help?

Another noise behind her made Emma look back over her shoulder. The other shopper had collapsed face-first into a display rack, sending loaves of bread, rolls, and pastry crashing to the ground. He lay on his back in the middle of the aisle, coughing, holding his throat and writhing in agony.

Emma felt the grip on her arm loosen and she turned back to face the old man. Tears of pain and fear ran freely down his weathered cheeks as he struggled to breathe. The shock and surprise fading, her training slowly began to take hold and she leaned across to try and loosen his collar and lie him down. She stopped when she saw the blood inside his gaping, toothless mouth. He leaned forward and it dribbled onto the floor, splashing her feet. His legs buckled and he dropped to the ground, his entire body shaking and convulsing.

Emma ran to the back of the shop to find Mr. Rashid and call for help. She found him lying in a stockroom doorway, barely alive. His wife had collapsed in the kitchen. The tap was still running and the sink was overflowing, blood-tinged water collecting in a pool around her pallid face. By the time Emma returned to the front of the store, both of the men she'd left there were dead.

There were bodies everywhere outside. Emma stumbled onto the street, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun. Literally hundreds of people had fallen around her. They had all suffocated. Every face she looked into was ashen, each person's lips bloodied and red.

Much farther down the road, perhaps a quarter of a mile, where the high street crossed Maple Street, the road was covered in an unfathomable tangle of crashed cars. Nothing was moving. Everything was still but for the traffic lights, which obliviously continued to work their way through their routine of red, amber, and green, then back again.


Excerpted from Autumn by David Moody. Copyright © 2010 David Moody. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

David Moody is the author of Hater, Dog Blood, and Autumn: The City. He grew up in Birmingham, England, on a diet of horror movies and post-apocalyptic fiction. He started his career working at a bank, but then decided to write the kind of fiction he loved. His first novel, Straight to You, had what Moody calls "microscopic sales," and so when he wrote Autumn, he decided to publish it online. The book became a sensation and has been downloaded by half a million readers. He started his own publishing company, Infected Books. He lives in Britain with his wife and a houseful of daughters, which may explain his preoccupation with Armageddon.

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Autumn 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 104 reviews.
Liston More than 1 year ago
I enjoy zombie novels and I found this one interesting. Plot was good and I liked to see that for once there was the military involved so the plot is based around basically the lives of three main characters, each with their own internal struggles and this is the story of how they deal with the basic end of human civilization. I also liked how the zombies actually evolve and it is interesting in how the three deal with the new threat.
Hoodwinx More than 1 year ago
Love David Moody's Hater triology and just as happy with this trilogy. Always wondered why people can't get away from a slow moving zombie in the movies - well this book gives you an idea of what you are up against. You will not be disappointed.
ZombiePenguinX More than 1 year ago
I, myself, am a big fan of zombie novels, movies, games, et cetera. This one is definitely one of my favorites. Autumn takes you on a short campaign for survival with three characters, Michael, Emma, and Carl. They each have different personalities but all of them have one thing in common; they must survive. After a bout with some other survivors the three head off to find solitude and safety away from the cities. The difference in this zombie novel and other zombie stuff is how the zombies work. When they first come back alive, they're mobile and stupid. However, as time progresses, the zombies start becoming smarter and begin to disintegrate. The novel never says "zombies," but it's pretty obvious what they are. Someone said that there wasn't enough "action" for a zombie novel but I feel that it was a great change from the usual. Most zombie fiction is JAM PACKED with action and shooting and all that. However, this book offers a more logical, and to me, a more real story of what would happen in the event of a zombie apocalypse. No one would be handy dandy with chainsaws or masters with a gun after never holding one before and certainly no one would know what to do right away. The book, in a sense, is much more REAL.
Meh23 More than 1 year ago
This book is OK, don't get me wrong. But the entire time I was reading this book, I kept going through moments of " why am I still reading this?" The entire plot, or general lack there of, was pretty much set up like this. We have to move on- no we have to stay- no we have to leave this place we just moved to- no we need to stay here even though its not safe- maybe its time we move on now- nah, the zomibes know we are here lets just stay.
Guest More than 1 year ago
i thought that autumn was a british spin-off version of night of the living dead, it was very tedious in the first 3/4 of the book, i waited and waited for something sudden and suspenceful to happen but it never did, there just wasnt enough action you would expect from a zobie novel, i thought it was simply a waste of money and time, sorry but it's the truth, it was not a book for true zombie lovers.
Guest More than 1 year ago
'Autumn' features a promising horror premise -- a combination of a rapid, lethal plague and the appearance of menacing, undead corpses. In other words, nothing original. The prose is clumsy and amateurish (self-conscious alliteration, awkward syntax, pointless shifts from third- to first-person and back, and just too many adverbs). Having established a milieu and characters, the author doesn't know what to do with them (judging from the aimless, repetitive plotting). The word 'zombie' never appears in the novel, but there's no denying that the work is about 90% derivative of the films of George Romero. I have, frankly, seen better-written fanfiction. We can only hope that David Moody's skills improve in the later books.
GotZombie More than 1 year ago
What ever happened to character development and plot. There was very little interesting about this book. [Spoiler] It really was nothing more than People die, dead people rise, live people run and hide... sorry I spoiled the book for you.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great book....unputdownable (lol) This book had me in suspense the whole time while reading. It is hard for a book to completely captivate me yet David Moody continues to do so. I highly recommend this book and without yet reading the rest of the series I just know the other Autumn books are just as good (just started Autumn: the city) and recommend them. Hater Trilogy as far David Moody fails to disappoint!!!
Annibebe More than 1 year ago
This is the first book in a series about surviving in a zombie-filled world. I finished it in 6 hours - easy, fast read, with a different perspective. I recommend it to anyone that likes zombies or apocolyptic type stories. I can't wait to get the 2nd book!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I read this book in just one day. I enjoyed it so much, I read the entire series. For anyone who enjoys the many interpretations of a zombie apocalypse this series is a must read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm biased, as I really love all of David Moody's books. I am currently on book (4) of this series; & though (4) is not ast great as (1,2, &3), I can tell it's headed somewhere quickly. I definitely recommend the Autumn series. Don't be angry that he never uses the word "zombie", as this makes the books that more believable. Autumn: Purification is AMAZING, so hurr up and read the first (2) books so you can get to the third. If you like Moody's writing style, I suggest you read the Hater Trilogy - PHENOMENAL! Happy dystopic reading to you all ;0)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'll give this book three stars only because I like this genre and because I found the plot unique and interesting. With that said, I found it hard to finish because of the characters and their (non)development and also because the author didn't describe things in detail. Example: One of the main char's lost his daughter and wife and was in turn devestated t/out the whole book. Understandable. Where the problem arises is that the author never made us feel or see WHY he was devestated. It got to the point where i was annoyed when it was brought up! The author should have included accounts of what made those people special to the character and made us feel sad that he had lost them. Overall, a great idea for a zombie book, especially w how he gave the usual zombie stories a twist, but definitely could have been better executed and certainly not worth 10 bucks.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I give this 2 stars because I find the genre interesting and because people untroubled by poor writing may be fine with it. I, howver, cannot handle reading material when it is: empty of descriptive narrative, full of contradictory statements (from one paragraph to the next the author states things in complete opposition to what he just wrote), and completeky oblivious to the basic premise that when an author brings things up in the narrative, they can't just be constantly dropped/igmored/never mentioned again. The characters are as empty, if not more so, than the walking dead around them. I kept reading, but finally had to stop around 150 pages because I just couldn't take it anymore - I try really hard to finish a book, even when bad, but it began to feel like masochism. I respect anybody that can complete the work of writing a book(s), honestly, but I wish to warn readers who find style to be an important asppect of their reading enjoyment that this material is awful.
rnyc More than 1 year ago
Not as good as the other series by Moody, but a fun read nonetheless. The entire series could use a proofreader for the e-books.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great book for the more cerebral zombie lover, but judging by the previous reviews, it's not for everyone. My guess is that those who simply crave the blood, guts and gore won't like it. If you like survivalist, post-apocalyptic story lines, then this is for you. it doesn't bash you over the head with the horror, it creeps it slowly but thoroughly.
harstan More than 1 year ago
In less than twenty-four hours, billions are dead. The virus killed so fast that on one block a William Price was first to go and within five minutes his entire street had become a cemetery. Less than 1% of mankind survived the first wave. Those who do are in shock as they say good-bye to loved ones and in Britain they soon realize when no one responds to 999 or anything on the radio that civilization as they know it is over. Factory mechanic Carl Henshawe cannot believe his beloved wife and their little girl is dead. Computer company executive Michael Collins gives lecture to a class of teens ignoring him when he horrifically watches them die. Fighting a cold medical student Emma Mitchell skips class and goes to the nearby shop to buy food only to see the owner and other patrons die. The few survivors find one another at a dilapidated community center waiting for first responders who never come. Instead as supplies dwindle, the dead begin to reanimate. The noise of the living disturbs the undead and even loved ones are coming to silence those who have not changed; the only thing that stops them is their rotting flesh. This is an enjoyable cerebral zombie thriller in which David Moody looks deep into the souls of those who survived the virus; for instance others like Phillip struggle to move on pass a deceased loved one. Slowly the few humans find civilization stripped bare until the only thing left is whether it is worth the fight to stay alive. Though the story line is at times deliberately slow as Michael, Carl and Emma rotate internal pensive musings, readers who relish a different bite on zombies will appreciate the grim moody atmosphere of Autumn. Harriet Klausner
daredevil7442 More than 1 year ago
Great book and well written. The story has a lot of detail and realism which slows the action/pace down but, I like a book with a lot of detail. I recommend this book. My only complaint about this book is that is only 230 pages  and there are 5 other short paged books to this series. Do the math....otherwise great story and well written.
Schmana More than 1 year ago
Before you base your opinion from reviews as to whether or not you should purchase the series, keep an open mind when I tell you that this is not a "zombie" book where they eat brains like most books/movies portray. When I first decided to read the series, I had believed it to be another zombie story and the survival of few in a post-apocolyptic world. Author, David Moody, created a whole new persepective and idea relating to a catostrophic event, few survivors, and the walking dead (he never once refers to them as zombies). You will soon find out the the "dead" are not looking to eat the living, but are guided by a different desire. The characters that you are introduced to in this book are developed in a way that can only be true if one was unfortunate to be one of the survivors in this kind of world. I have read many comments regarding the development of the characters, some positive and negative, but when you read the book and put yourself into the characters position, what kind of opinion or motivation would you have other than surviving with a future looking bleak? I am currently reading the third book, Autumn Purification, and the course the story is taking is remarkable. Kudos to you, David Moody, for creating a story such as this!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Imagine a horror movie where every main character is constantly doing things that make you scream at the screen "Dont do that! Its stupid!" ... Then put that experience in book form. At first I found this book hard to read because every main character did things that either made no sense or was just outright stupid. Then I realized that they were all supposed to be well below average intelligence. Once I figured that out, the book became less painful to read and I was even able to enjoy it... because even stupid people can have a story in the zombie apocalypse.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago eyes.......... slick black fur.......... wants a mate.........will die for the pack.......... wepon is claws.......... name is lola..........
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
What the hell is wrong with you people? Are you retarded? Did not realise "wolves" could type.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The thudding of deep brown paws causes you to look towards the wolf of which they belong. A chocolate colored wolf with dark gold eyes. "Hello there," his voice is calm and he glances over you. "I am Salen, Alpha of this pack." He smiles slightly. "It's my first time in a pack. It was Luna who gave me the idea to make one." He sighs and shakes his head. "I've no mate, and truthfully I on't know if I want one." He chuckled and settles onto well muscled haunches. "No pups or kin to speack about. Hunting is a passion of mine. There is nothing like the hunt, the chase, and finally the kill." He winks. "Wis to hunt with you soon."