Frankenstein: The Dead Town

( 290 )

Overview

FRANKENSTEIN: THE DEAD TOWN

The war against humanity is raging. As the small town of Rainbow Falls, Montana, comes under siege, scattered survivors band together to weather the onslaught of the creatures set loose upon the world. As they ready for battle against overwhelming odds, they will learn the full scope of Victor Frankenstein?s nihilistic plan to remake the future ? and the terrifying reach of his shadowy, powerful supporters.

Now the ...

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Frankenstein: The Dead Town: A Novel

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Overview

FRANKENSTEIN: THE DEAD TOWN

The war against humanity is raging. As the small town of Rainbow Falls, Montana, comes under siege, scattered survivors band together to weather the onslaught of the creatures set loose upon the world. As they ready for battle against overwhelming odds, they will learn the full scope of Victor Frankenstein’s nihilistic plan to remake the future — and the terrifying reach of his shadowy, powerful supporters.

Now the good will make their last, best stand. In a climax that will shatter every expectation, their destinies and the fate of humanity hang in the balance.

“Koontz is a master of the edge-of-your-seat, paranoid thriller and perhaps the leading American practitioner of the form.”
—The Star-Ledger

“Koontz writes first-rate suspense, scary and stylish.”
—Los Angeles Times

“A rarity among bestselling writers, Koontz continues to pursue new ways of telling stories, never content with repeating himself. He writes of hope and love in the midst of evil in profoundly inspiring and moving ways.”
—Chicago Sun-Times

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Koontz is a master of the edge-of-your-seat, paranoid thriller and perhaps the leading American practitioner of the form.”—The Star-Ledger

“Koontz writes first-rate suspense, scary and stylish.”—Los Angeles Times

“A rarity among bestselling writers, Koontz continues to pursue new ways of telling stories, never content with repeating himself. He writes of hope and love in the midst of evil in profoundly inspiring and moving ways.”—Chicago Sun-Times

Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781441818430
  • Publisher: Brilliance Audio
  • Publication date: 5/24/2011
  • Series: Dean Koontz's Frankenstein Series , #5
  • Format: MP3 on CD
  • Edition description: Unabridged
  • Sales rank: 898,646
  • Product dimensions: 5.60 (w) x 7.60 (h) x 0.60 (d)

Meet the Author

The books of Dean Koontz are published in 38 languages, and worldwide sales top 400 million copies. Eleven of his novels have risen to number one on the New York Times hardcover bestseller list, and several have been adapted into feature films and TV miniseries. Dean and Gerda Koontz live in southern California with their golden retriever, Anna, grand-niece of the famous and beloved Trixie.

Biography

He is one of the most recognized, read, and loved suspense writers of the 20th century. His imagination is a veritable factory of nightmares, conjuring twisted tales of psychological complexity. He even has a fan in Stephen King. For decades, Dean Koontz's name has been synonymous with terror, and his novels never fail to quicken the pulse and set hearts pounding.

Koontz has a lifelong love of writing that led him to spend much of his free time as an adult furiously cultivating his style and voice. However, it was only after his wife Gerda made him an offer he couldn't refuse while he was teaching English at a high school outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, that he had a real opportunity to make a living with his avocation. Gerda agreed to support Dean for five years, during which time he could try to get his writing career off the ground. Little did she know that by the end of that five years she would be leaving her own job to handle the financial end of her husband's massively successful writing career.

Koontz first burst into the literary world with 1970's Beastchild, a science fiction novel that appealed to genre fans with its descriptions of aliens and otherworldly wars but also mined deeper themes of friendship and the breakdown of communication. Although it is not usually ranked among his classics, Beastchild provided the first inkling of Koontz's talent for populating even the most fantastical tale with fully human characters. Even at his goriest or most terrifying, he always allows room for redemption.

This complexity is what makes Koontz's work so popular with readers. He has a true gift for tempering horror with humanity, grotesqueries with lyricism. He also has a knack for genre-hopping, inventing Hitchcockian romantic mysteries, crime dramas, supernatural thrillers, science fiction, and psychological suspense with equal deftness and imagination. Perhaps The Times (London) puts it best: "Dean Koontz is not just a master of our darkest dreams, but also a literary juggler."

Good To Know

Shortly after graduating from college, Koontz took a job with the Appalachian Poverty Program where he would tutor and counsel underprivileged kids. However, after finding out that the last person who held his job had been beaten up and hospitalized by some of these kids, Koontz was more motivated than ever to get his writing career going.

When Koontz was a senior in college, he won the Atlantic Monthly fiction competition.

Koontz and Kevin Anderson's novel Frankenstein: The Prodigal Son was slotted to become a television series produced by Martin Scorsese. However, when the pilot failed to sell, the USA Network aired it as a TV movie in 2004. By that time Koontz had removed his name from the project.

Some fun and fascinating outtakes from our interview with Koontz:

"My wife, Gerda, and I took seven years of private ballroom dancing lessons, twice a week, ninety minutes each time. After we had gotten good at everything from swing to the foxtrot, we not only stopped taking lessons, but also stopped going dancing. Learning had been great fun; but for both of us, going out for an evening of dancing proved far less exhilarating than the learning. We both have a low boredom threshold. Now we dance at a wedding or other celebration perhaps once a year, and we're creaky."

"On my desk is a photograph given to me by my mother after Gerda and I were engaged to be married. It shows 23 children at a birthday party. It is neither my party nor Gerda's. I am three years old, going on four. Gerda is three. In that crowd of kids, we are sitting directly across a table from each other. I'm grinning, as if I already know she's my destiny, and Gerda has a serious expression, as if she's worried that I might be her destiny. We never met again until I was a senior in high school and she was a junior. We've been trying to make up for that lost time ever since.

"Gerda and I worked so much for the first two decades of our marriage that we never took a real vacation until our twentieth wedding anniversary. Then we went on a cruise, booking a first-class suite, sparing no expense. For more than half the cruise, the ship was caught in a hurricane. The open decks were closed because waves would have washed passengers overboard. About 90% of the passengers spent day after day in their cabins, projectile vomiting. We discovered that neither of us gets seasick. We had the showrooms, the casino, and the buffets virtually to ourselves. Because the crew had no one to serve, our service was exemplary. The ship dared not try to put into the scheduled ports; it was safer on the open sea. The big windows of the main bar presented a spectacular view of massive waves and lightning strikes that stabbed the sea by the score. Very romantic. We had a grand time.

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    1. Also Known As:
      David Axton, Brian Coffey, K.R. Dwyer, Deanna Dwyer, John Hill, Leigh Nichols, Anthony North, Richard Paige, Owen West, Aaron Wolfe
    2. Hometown:
      Newport Beach, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      July 9, 1945
    2. Place of Birth:
      Everett, Pennsylvania
    1. Education:
      B.S. (major in English), Shippensburg University, 1966
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

chapter 1

Owl-eyed and terrified, Warren Snyder occupied an armchair in his living room. He sat stiff, erect, his hands upturned in his lap. Now and then his right hand shook. His mouth hung slightly open, and his lower lip trembled almost continuously.

On his left temple, a silvery bead gleamed. As rounded and as polished as the head of a decorative upholstery tack, it looked like a misplaced earring.

The bead was in fact packed with electronics, nanocircuitry, and was rather like the head of a nail in that it was the visible portion of a needle-thin probe that had been fired into his brain by a pistol-like device. Instantaneous chemical cauterization of flesh and bone prevented bleeding.

Warren said nothing. He had been ordered to remain silent, and he had lost the power to disobey. Except for his twitching fingers and the tremors, which were both involuntary, he did not move, not even to change position in the chair, because he had been told to be still.

His gaze shifted back and forth between two points of interest: his wives.

With a silver bead on her left temple and her eyes glazed like those of an amped-out meth junkie, Judy Snyder perched on the sofa, knees together, hands folded serenely in her lap. She didn't twitch or tremble like her husband. She seemed to be without fear, perhaps because the probe had damaged her brain in ways not intended.

The other Judy stood by one of the living-room windows that faced the street, alternately studying the snowy night and regarding her two prisoners with contempt. Their kind were the spoilers of the earth. Soon these two would be led away like a couple of sheep, to be rendered and processed. And one day, when the last human beings were eradicated, the world would be as much of a paradise as it had ever been or ever could be.

This Judy was not a clone of the one on the sofa, nothing as disgusting as a mere meat machine, which was all that human beings were. She had been designed to pass for the original Judy, but the illusion would not hold up if her internal structure and the nature of her flesh were to be studied by physicians. She had been created in a couple of months, programmed and extruded-"born"-as an adult in the Hive, deep underground, with no tao other than her program, with no illusion that she possessed free will, with no obligation whatsoever to any higher power other than Victor Leben, whose true last name was Frankenstein, and with no life after this one to which she needed to aspire.

Through the parted draperies, she watched a tall man crossing the snow- mantled street, hands in his coat pockets, face turned to the sky as if delighting in the weather. He approached the house on the front walkway, playfully kicking up little clouds of snow. Judy couldn't see his face, but she assumed he must be Andrew Snyder, the nineteen-year- old son of the family. His parents expected him to return home from work about this time.

She let the draperies fall into place and stepped out of the living room, into the foyer. When she heard Andrew's footsteps on the porch, she opened the door.

"Andy," she said, "I was so worried."

Shucking off his boots to leave them on the porch, Andrew smiled and shook his head. "You worry too much, Mom. I'm not late."

"No, you're not, but terrible things have been happening in town tonight."

"What terrible things?"

As Andrew stepped into the foyer in his stocking feet, the Judy replicant closed the door, turned to him, and began to unbutton his peacoat. In the best imitation of motherly concern that she could manage, she said, "You'll catch your death in this weather."

Pulling a scarf from around his neck, he asked again, "What terrible things?" He frowned with confusion and annoyance, as if her fussing with his coat must be out of character for her.

As she opened the buttons, she maneuvered him until the doorway to the study lay beyond even his peripheral vision.

"All the killings," she said, "it's horrible."

Intent upon her to an extent he had not been until now, Andrew said, "Killings? What killings?"

As he spoke, his replicant glided silently out of the study, directly to him, and pulled the trigger instantly upon pressing the muzzle of the brain-probe pistol to Andrew's left temple.

The young man's face wrenched with pain but for only a moment. Then his eyes widened with terror even as his face relaxed into an expression that was hardly more readable than that of someone in a coma.

"Come with me," said the replicant Andrew, and led his namesake into the living room. "Sit on the sofa."

Silvery bead shimmering like a drop of mercury on his temple, Andrew Snyder did as he was told.

If the replicant Andrew had chosen to sit opposite the real one and squeeze the trigger again, the pistol wouldn't have fired another skull-piercing dart. The second shot would have been a telemetric command initiating transmission from the embedded needle to a data- storage module in the replicant's inorganic brain. In ninety minutes or less, the essence of the young man's life experience-acquired knowledge, memories, faces, torrents of sights and sounds-would be downloaded to his impersonator.

The replicant had no need, however, to pass for Andrew Snyder in more than appearance. By this time the night after next, all the citizens of Rainbow Falls would have been killed, rendered, and processed; no one who had known the real Andrew would remain alive to be deceived by his laboratory-bred double.

Ninety minutes devoted to memory downloading would be, in this instance, a waste of time. Replicants despised waste and distraction. Focus and efficiency were important principles. The only morality was efficiency, and the only immorality was inefficiency.

The Community, as creatures born in the Hive called their new civilization, would soon possess a secret base from which to move outward relentlessly across the continent and then swiftly across the world. Communitarians were the embodiment of progress, the end of history, the end of all the repulsive messiness of human delusions and random events, the beginning of a planned future that, according to a precise timetable, would lead one day to the absolute perfection of all things.

The Communitarian Andrew Snyder, already dressed for the winter night, left the living room to join the Communitarian Warren Snyder, who waited for him in the Ford Explorer that was parked in the garage. The real Warren, paralyzed in the living-room armchair, was the general manager and the program director of KBOW, the only radio station in town.

Early in every violent revolution, those who would overthrow the current order must seize control of all means of communication in order to deny the enemy a command structure that might facilitate resistance. Everyone working the evening shift at KBOW must be controlled and then conveyed to one of the centers where the people of Rainbow Falls were being vigorously processed.

The replicant Judy remained behind with the Judy whom she had replaced and with the two males sitting docilely in the living room. Her assignment was to wait here until a transport arrived to collect the brain-pierced trio and take them to their destruction.

Even if the members of the Snyder family had been in control of their faculties, they would not have been acceptable company. Human beings were, after all, not merely base animals like any creatures of the fields and woods; they were by far the worst of all species in the world, so vain as to claim exceptional status among all living things, so utterly deranged as to believe that they were born with souls and were meant to live with meaning so as to fulfill a cosmic destiny, when in fact they were a cancer in the bosom of Nature.

In spite of their pretensions, they were meat. Just meat. Blood and bone and meat. And insane. Mad. They were mad meat and nothing more.

Communitarian Judy despised them. She loathed the way they lived, too, with no concern for the numerous imperfections of their surroundings.

The living-room carpet was only the most immediate example of their inferiority in this regard. Lint. She counted six bits of lint just in the area bordered by the two armchairs and the coffee table in front of the sofa. And not merely specks of lint. Cat hairs, as well. The cat had fled through a pet flap in the kitchen door, but its hairs were everywhere.

Order was an important principle, no less important than focus and efficiency. Indeed, efficiency was not achievable in a state of disorder. Order must be imposed before perfect efficiency could be achieved. This was a truth deeply programmed into her.

Waiting for the transport that would haul away the Snyders was not an efficient use of time. As Judy paced back and forth across the filthy carpet, stopping now and then to part the poorly hung draperies and search the street for a sign of the scheduled truck, she was acutely aware that progress waited to be made on countless fronts, that there was a world to be conquered and changed, and that she was at the moment contributing nothing to the heroic efforts of the Community.

She felt somewhat better when she got the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and swept all the exposed areas of carpet until she could see no lint, no stray thread, no single cat hair. But then, through the glass top of the coffee table, she glimpsed what might have been a peanut that had been dropped by one of the Snyders and had rolled under the furniture.

Agitated, she dragged the coffee table away from the sofa where two of her prisoners obediently waited, and she exposed the carpet under it for closer inspection. In addition to the peanut, she found a dead fly. The insect appeared to be dry, brittle, as if it had been under the table for days and would crumble to flakes and dust upon being touched.

The peanut and the fly were not the sum of it. There were cat hairs, too, and a crumb of something that she could not identify.

"Lift your feet! Lift them!" she ordered Andrew and his mother, and with no change of expression in their slack faces, they obeyed, raising their knees high and their feet off the floor.

With Communitarian fervor, Judy vacuumed the carpet in front of the sofa. When she saw that Warren, in the armchair, had raised his feet, she also swept that area.

Inevitably, she began to wonder what dust and debris might have built up on the baseboard behind the sofa and on the carpet under it. She had visions of extreme disorder.

She went to the window and parted the draperies, in which the folds had not been ironed with sufficient care to ensure that they would hang uniformly. She looked left and right along the wintry street. A patrol car cruised slowly past the house. All the police in town were already Communitarians, had been for the better part of the day, but that fact did not calm Judy in the least. Only one thing would assure her that the planned takeover of the town was proceeding in an efficient manner: the arrival of the transport and the crew that would collect the Snyder family.

Turning away from the window, she surveyed the room and judged the entire space a disaster.

chapter 2

Silent legions of snow marched softly through the night, laying siege to Rainbow Falls, Montana, conquering the black streets. Like clouds of battle smoke, the blizzard faded the red-brick buildings and the towering evergreens. Soon streetscapes and landscapes would be ghostly and bleak, apocalyptic visions of a dead future.

Oblivious of the cold, Deucalion roamed the snowswept town as only he, in all the world, could travel. The terrible lightning that shocked him to life in Victor's original laboratory, more than two hundred years previously, also brought him other gifts, including a profound understanding of the quantum structure of reality, an intuitive awareness of the weave in the foundation fabric of all things. He knew that the universe was immeasurably vast and yet a strangely intimate place, that distance was both a fact and an illusion, that in truth every point in the universe was next door to every other point. A Tibetan monastery on the opposite side of the world from Rainbow Falls was in another sense only one step away, if you knew how to take that step.

Deucalion knew how, and in an instant he transitioned from an alleyway behind Jim James Bakery to the roof of the Rainbow Theater. This town of fifteen thousand souls had an Old West feel because many of its buildings dated to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; they had flat roofs with parapets of the kind that bad guys and sheriffs hid behind during gunfights in old movies.

No building in town rose above four stories, and the theater ranked among the tallest structures. From this vantage point high in the falling snow, Deucalion could see east and west along Cody Street. Most businesses were closing early because of the storm, but the restaurants and bars remained brightly lighted. Only a few vehicles were parked along the curbs; and traffic had fallen to a fraction of what it had been just half an hour earlier.

The large panel truck with midnight-blue cab and white cargo section was one of only four vehicles moving along Cody Street. Other identical trucks operated elsewhere in the town. Earlier Deucalion had learned the nature of the task in which the hard-eyed, two-man crews were engaged: transporting subdued citizens of Rainbow Falls to facilities where they would be killed.

The victims had been replaced by lookalikes created in Victor's facility somewhere along State Route 311, which locals called the End Times Highway, a twenty-four-mile loop of wide two-lane blacktop that dated back to the Cold War. That road apparently served nothing along its remote wooded route except for an array of missile silos that had been decommissioned after the fall of the Soviet Union and had been in some cases abandoned and in other cases sold

off to corporations for use as low-humidity, high-security storage vaults for sensitive records. Many locals were convinced that the silos were but a small part of what lay hidden along the End Times Highway, that other secret subterranean facilities had been built deep to withstand multiple direct nuclear strikes. Finding Victor's lair this time would not be easy.

No doubt the first people to be replaced by replicants and murdered had been those in the police department and in elected offices. Victor would take control of the town from the top and work down to the last unsuspecting citizen. Deucalion had already seen captive employees of the telephone company being herded into one of the blue-and-white transports, whereafter they were taken to a warehouse for disposal.

When the truck down on Cody turned north on Russell Street, Deucalion stepped off the roof of the theater and directly, boldly, magically onto the corrugated-steel step that served the passenger door of the vehicle. Surprised, the man riding shotgun turned his head. Holding fast to an assist bar on the wall of the cab, Deucalion wrenched open the door, which barely cleared his great bulk, reached inside with one hand, seized the passenger by the throat, crushed his windpipe, pulled him off the seat, and threw him into the snowswept street as if he weighed no more than a hollow, plastic, department-store mannequin.

"Always wear your seat belt," he muttered.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 290 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(145)

4 Star

(68)

3 Star

(35)

2 Star

(27)

1 Star

(15)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 292 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 26, 2011

    Someone had a deadline...and this book shows it was completed in the 13th hour!

    I really got into the "new" Frankenstein story that D.K. started. Purchased the first book on a long flight from New Mexico because I didn't have the time to charge my Nook. Man...after the first book I bought the rest and couldn't wait for the final installment. Finished it in 2 days! What a let down! D.K. gets you moving in the first hundred pages and you start to think "Oh, no...I see I'm going to have to wait for ANOTHER installment if I'm going to finish the storyline." No worries there. D.K. got lazy (or deadline...publisher hounding him??) and packed in the last 20 pages with quick notes about each character and then your done. NO CLIMAX!!! Hello! We readers...well.. if you haven't heard...we kind of like those things! I felt like D.K. got sick of writing the story and finished the end as quick as possible! Quite disappointed. Trust me, you will finish this book thinking, "Really? That's how ya gonna do us!"

    5 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 27, 2011

    Glad to see the end of the series.

    Dean Koontz has a few books that I would give at least 4 1/2 stars, but The Dead Town isn't one of them. Koontz too often wraps up the plots quickly at the end. In The Dead Town he broke a record for swiftness and happy endings. At the same time, the plot bogged down in places when some actions were repeated with different (and new) characters. Example: scenes of the Builders doing their stuff, or Communitarians obsessing over something. The repetitions could be dropped and the ending be given greater development. The evil villain of the piece is a disappointment--arrogant and boring. But then, evil often is. The final scene between Deucalion and Victor Immaculate isn't particularly dramatic. And there is a last minute revelation about a replicant on a gurney that doesn't go anywhere, even though it's huge. (Is Koontz leaving the door open for a future novel?) The happy endings in the last two pages came fast and furious, and weren't all believable. I had to read the book to see how Koontz resolved everything, but found it disappointing. It felt as though Koontz was tired of the subject and wanted to get it over with. One light note was Jocko. He's always fun. And I have to say that I liked the reason for the breakdown of the Xerox Boze. So, read it, but don't expect great entertainment.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 3, 2011

    Loved the Other Books - But This one was a let down.

    Loved the characters, and the book - up until the ending. Like the other reviewers, I felt the book may have been rushed, resulting in a terrible ending.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 15, 2011

    Pretty good read. Glad the series is finally over, hopefully.

    The book was pretty good. After four previous books in the series I felt pretty comfortable with the lead characters. This book though spent a lot of time on extra descriptions and information other than developing the characters though the climax and ultimate conclusion of the entire series. I don't know, I guess for me it was kind of a rushed finish leading into a minor personal let down after spending the time to read all five books in the series. Carson and Michael didn't have a ton of time interacting in this one. Their banter was pretty cool in the first four books. Deucalion was such a unique reinvention of the typical Frankenstein monster. In this one he just kind of did his thing and we had to kind of accept the fact that it was his destiny and that the ending was as it should have been. I'm okay with that I guess. I just wish this story could have gotten us there a little better and had a bit more of a fitting ending for a five book, six years in the making series. That's a long time to devote to a series of books and be left wishing that it could have given just a bit more. If you're a fan of Koontz, I am a big fan and will still read anything he writes, then give it a go also. I will say that I hope that he leaves this series here. It was originally supposed to have been a trilogy. The third book was a bit of a letdown too. The fourth book definitely redeemed the series and third book. The fifth book left something to be desired though. In the end I guess that if you've taken the time to have read the first four books then definitely go ahead and read this one so you can have the whole story. If you haven't read them all then make your own decisions on wether to embark on the journey.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 30, 2014

    J

    Drizzlepaw runs back to camp.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 29, 2012

    Not bad overall

    I liked lost souls and dead town quite a bit but i feel they arent as good as the first three, the first three were alot more twisted and dark.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 13, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Highly Recommended

    I liked this final volume in Dean Koontz's Frankenstein series. It is packed cover to cover with action, horror, and fringe-type science. He is highly creative and imaginative, and I'm curious to watch the movie based on the first book in the series. The Builders are both a curiosity and soul shattering creepy. The Communitarians are tiresome in their OCD tidiness and everything being in perfect order. Victor Helios's clone is perfectly mad. I mean that he is too smart in his building a perfect world that he is both crazy and brilliant. Jocko is one of the best characters ever created. I never get tired of reading about him. Ultimately, it all comes down to not only stopping Victor Immaculate's plan/mission, but who will survive the confrontation between father/creator and son/monster, Deucalion or Victor?

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 30, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Decent, but not the best

    This book ends a series that began very well. It is timed as the "second half" of the fourth book. Neither the fourth nor fifth book is Koontz's best writing, and they are a let-down from the first three books of the series. Buy this if you want to know what happens, but don't expect the best.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 31, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Will purchase a DK Fan.

    1 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2014

    Vote

    Aruget for Sanctus. Grey and Iec for Exceed.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2014

    Vote

    Snake and snake again <br> is there going to be tito, extus and annex ceremonies?

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 20, 2014

    Vote

    Tito Hunter and Tito Sniper for Santus

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014

    Vote

    Arguret.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014

    Vote

    Lost and Flame

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 16, 2014

    Can l still vote?

    Then Snake & Frost.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 22, 2014

    Voting...

    Lost and Ice for Exceed

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 1, 2014

    Demi

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 15, 2014

    Vote

    Frost and ice

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 17, 2014

    Vote

    Snake and Lost for Exceed <br> Arguet for Sanctus

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 15, 2014

    Annex Hazel's votes!!!

    ((WHAT?! Everyones voting for flame and ice!!! Ive been on longer than flame!! No offense, flame, im just really pissed off right now!!GAAAHHH!!!DX)) can i vote for me? If so, i vote me(annex hazel) and... lost, i guess.

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