The Hunt (Hunt Trilogy Series #1)by Andrew Fukuda
Don't Sweat. Don't Laugh. Don't draw attention to yourself. And most of all, whatever you do, do not fall in love with one of them.
Gene is different from everyone else around him. He can't run with lightning speed, sunlight doesn't hurt him and he doesn't have an unquenchable lust for blood. Gene is a human, and he knows the rules. Keep the/p>/b>… See more details below
Don't Sweat. Don't Laugh. Don't draw attention to yourself. And most of all, whatever you do, do not fall in love with one of them.
Gene is different from everyone else around him. He can't run with lightning speed, sunlight doesn't hurt him and he doesn't have an unquenchable lust for blood. Gene is a human, and he knows the rules. Keep the truth a secret. It's the only way to stay alive in a world of nighta world where humans are considered a delicacy and hunted for their blood.
When he's chosen for a once in a lifetime opportunity to hunt the last remaining humans, Gene's carefully constructed life begins to crumble around him. He's thrust into the path of a girl who makes him feel things he never thought possibleand into a ruthless pack of hunters whose suspicions about his true nature are growing. Now that Gene has finally found something worth fighting for, his need to survive is stronger than everbut is it worth the cost of his humanity?
With razor-sharp prose, a genius plot, and a searing pace that will have you ripping through the pages, Fukuda creates a dark and savage post-apocalyptic world where humans are nearly extinct and love manages to bloom despite all the odds stacked against it. An exceptional novel--I can't wait for the sequel!
One of the most brilliant, original books I've read in a very long time. This is the kind of book you'll want to stay up with all night to finish!
A book that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go. The Hunt is both terrifying and sublime, with every page evoking that fragile, yet unyielding thing we call humanity.
Chilling, inventive, and utterly unputdownable. Readers, proceed…if you dare. This book will bleed into your nightmares.
The story is bona fide creepy, and as it builds to its cliffhanger ending (which delivers quite a good twist), readers will be torn between hoping Gene can maintain the ruse and that he will take on the bloodsuckers already. As revolutions go, this one is well worth keeping on your radar.
Fukuda takes the feeling of isolation that dominates adolescence and builds a world around it in a novel where the tension rarely slackens. He turns up the violence a notch from THE HUNGER GAMES with language that is as graphic as it is eloquent. Readers will hanker for answers as they'll discover a kindred spirit in Gene, who so eloquently describes the feeling of being an island in the middle of a vast ocean.
I was blown away from the first chapter all the way to the end. Fukuda did an excellent job turning the world of vampirism upside down. Wonderful descriptions, great imagination and very tight characters. If you love vampire worlds, then read this book. You will not want to put this one down!
Utterly disturbing, dark, twisted, but incredibly fascinating at the same time. It was a ride like nothing else I've read before. Gene was a smart and sharp hero I loved to follow! And the ending was incredible with a cliffhanger that will leave you hanging and wanting more - right now! If you are up for a thrilling ride then go and get The Hunt!
The Hunt was fast paced and awesome, propelling me forward with each new twist. It was dark, gritty, and intense. Gene was a dynamic character, while the surrounding characters were insanely creepy. They were ruthless, and it was perfect. And the ending? Just right!
Action-packed, heart-pounding, page-flipping action. I'm thoroughly in love. The Hunt is a riveting, thrilling read -- definitely one of my favorite books of 2012 so far. I can't wait to get my hands on a sequel, even if I have to wait a year for it.
This book was hard to put down. I kept thinking about it when I wasn't reading it! I just love this new world Mr. Fukuda created.
I loved every minute of The Hunt! I couldn't put it down. It's horrific, terrifying, gruesome, and inspiring. A story of survival, loss, and sacrifice that had me reading late into the night and early into the morning. If you haven't already added The Hunt to your TBR I highly recommend it.
An insane adventure sure to have your heart racing.
Great book. The Hunt is at once intriguing and frightening. It's twisted and dark with just enough hope that it kept me on my toes and turning the page. I can't wait to see what happens in the series because it should be interesting!
Andrew Fukuda has given us a vampire version of THE HUNGER GAMES. . . one of the creepiest novels I have ever read. Gene is a beautiful character. Seeing his feelings really made this story for me . . . a must read.
I fell in love with this book. I'm just going to say all the huge cliché things right now, because they express my sentiments exactly... 'I couldn't stop turning the pages,' 'I was up reading all night,' 'I didn't want the story to end' and 'I CANNOT WAIT TO READ THE SEQUEL!'
Very unique. This book is a standout. Andrew Fukuda has some good and original ideas. This series will only get better with each sequel.
The action never stopped! Brilliantly written, the author weaves the story of Gene and his lonely, isolated life, and his desperate fight to blend in that is literally a fight for survival. The book ends with an interesting puzzler, meaning much more to come in the next installment. Highly recommended.
With a last line that will leave you stunned you will immediately want to hunt down Andrew Fukuda and demand to know what happens next. This book definitely deserves four stars!
An intense ride and an exciting start to a new series.
Violent, intense and absolutely captivating. I highly recommend this. I will definitely be reading the sequels!
One of the best vampire books I've ever read! This is a breath of fresh air within the genre…. Definitely makes my best of 2012 so far list. If you're looking for something fresh to read within the paranormal and dystopian genres, The Hunt is for you.
Fast-paced and exciting...Andrew Fukuda does a wonderful job of blending traditional vampire lore with cool and new ideas. Even if you aren't a fan of vampire stories, you should give this a try. The Hunt is definitely unique.
This book was fascinating. . . you'll want to read Gene's story.
If the Hunger Games were taken over by vampires, this would be the result. A perfect blend of horror and YA fantasy, The Hunt sets a whole new bar for vampire novels. With incredible suspense, drama, ethical dilemmas, and a bit of romance - it's completely riveting. I loved every minute of this fast-paced, thrill ride. Don't miss this one.
One heck of a rollercoaster ride. So good!
A fascinating thriller starring two fabulous protagonists...fast-paced and filled with chilling action. Fans will appreciate joining Gene as he tries to avoid becoming the prey of The Hunt.
The Hunt keeps you in your seat and demands you stay there. With the constant threat of heart-pumping danger and imminent death, the characters only grow closer and stronger. Shining like a beacon of humanity in a very dark and scary world, I highly recommend this book.
Andrew Fukuda managed to surprise me. I can't wait to see how it continues in the next book.
Fast paced, horrifying and delicious! The Hunt is a brilliant new series…steeped in horror and riddled with tension and fear that left me spent and wanting more. I highly recommend. One of my favorite reads for 2012.
The Hunt by Andrew Fukuda was completely out of this world! One of the best novels I've had the pleasure to read in a long time.
… the perfect blend of the Hunger Games and vampires, and that ending just begs for a sequel!
A thrilling, nonstop ride that I couldn't set down. The Hunt for sure is my favorite vampire novel this year.
This dystopian stands out from the rest. The reader will be thrown into the story from page one and unable to put the book down…one of the best male characters I have had the chance to read about. A refreshing change.
Excellent…fantastic and truly top-notch. I highly recommend checking The Hunt out!
Intense, violent, and captivating…Gripping right from the very start…a refreshing approach to the already familiar vampire genre. Readers will instantly be hooked and they'll devour it no time.
Fukuda is a master of mental fear and he truly wrote a story that will scare you deep to your core.
Read an Excerpt
THERE USED TO be more of us. I’m certain of this. Not enough to fill a sports stadium or even a movie theater, but certainly more than what’s left today. Truth is, I don’t think there’s any of us left. Except me. It’s what happens when you’re a delicacy. When you’re craved. You go extinct.
Eleven years ago, one was discovered in my school. A kindergarten student, on her first day. She was devoured almost immediately. What was she thinking? Maybe the sudden (and it’s always sudden) loneliness at home drove her to school under some misbegotten idea that she’d find companionship. The teacher announced nap time, and the little tyke was left standing alone on the floor clutching her teddy bear as her classmates leaped feetfirst toward the ceiling. At that point, it was over for her. Over. She might as well have taken out her fake fangs and prostrated herself for the inevitable feasting. Her classmates stared down wide-eyed from above: Hello, what have we here? She started to cry, they tell me, bawl her eyes out. The teacher was the first to get to her.
After kindergarten, when you’re free and clear of naps, that’s when you show up at school. Although you can still get caught by surprise. One time, my swimming coach was so enraged by the team’s lethargic performance at a school meet, he forced all of us to take a nap in the changing room. He was only making a point, of course, but that point near did me in. By the way, swimming is fine, but don’t do any other sport if you can help it. Because sweat is a dead giveaway. Sweat is what happens when we get hot; water droplets leak out like a baby drooling. I know, gross. Everyone else remains cool, clean, dry. Me? I’m a leaky faucet. So forget about cross-country, forget about tennis, forget about even competitive chess. But swimming is fine, because it hides the sweat.
That’s just one of the rules. There’re many others, all of them indoctrinated into me by my father from the time I was born. Never smile or laugh or giggle, never cry or get teary-eyed. At all times, carry a bland, stoic expression; the only emotions that ever crack the surface of people’s faces are heper-cravings and romantic-lust, and I am obviously to have nothing to do with either. Never forget to apply butter liberally all over your body when venturing out in the daytime. Because in a world like this, it’s a tough task explaining a sunburn, or even a suntan. So many other rules, enough to fill a notebook, not that I ever felt inclined to write them down. Being caught with a “rulebook” would be just as damning as a sunburn.
Besides, my father reminded me of the rules every day. As the sun was going down, over breakfast, he’d go over a few of the many rules. Like: Don’t make friends; don’t inadvertently fall asleep in class (boring classes and long bus rides were especially dangerous); don’t clear your throat; don’t ace your exams, even though they insult your intelligence; don’t let your good looks get the better of you; no matter how the girls might throw their hearts and bodies at you, never give in to that temptation. Because you must always remember that your looks are a curse, not a blessing. Never forget that. He’d say all this while giving my nails a quick once-over, making sure that they weren’t chipped or scratched. The rules are now so ingrained in me, they’re as unbendable as the rules of nature. I’ve never been tempted to break any of them.
Except one. When I first started taking the horse-drawn school bus, my father forbade me from looking back at him to wave good-bye. Because people never do that. That was a hard rule for me, initially. For the first few nights of school, as I stepped onto the bus, it took everything in me to freeze myself, to not look back and wave good-bye. It was like a reflex, an insuppressible cough. I was just a kid back then, too, which made it doubly hard.
I broke that rule only one time, seven years ago. It was the night after my father staggered into the house, his clothes disheveled as if he’d been in a tussle, his neck punctured. He’d gotten careless, just a momentary lapse, and now he had two clear incisions in his neck. Sweat poured down his face, staining his shirt. You could see he already knew. A frenzied look in his eyes, panic running up his arms as he gripped me tight. “You’re alone now, my son,” he said through clenched teeth, spasms starting to ripple across his chest. Minutes later, when he started to shiver, his face shockingly cold to the touch, he stood up. He rushed out the door into the dawn light. I locked the door as he’d instructed me to do and ran to my room. I stuffed my face into the pillow and screamed and screamed. I knew what he was doing at that very moment: running, as far away from the house before he transformed and the rays of sunlight became like waterfalls of acid burning through his hair, his muscles, his bones, his kidney, lungs, heart.
The next night, as the school bus pulled up in front of my house, steam gushing from the horses’ wide and wet nostrils, I broke the rule. I couldn’t help myself: I turned around as I stepped onto the bus. But by then, it didn’t matter. The driveway was empty in the dark birth of night. My father was not there. Not then or ever again.
My father was right. I became alone that day. We were once a family of four, but that was a long time ago. Then it was just my father and me, and it was enough. I missed my mother and sister, but I was too young to form any real attachments with them. They are vague shapes in my memory. Sometimes, though, even now, I hear the voice of a woman singing and it always catches me off guard. I hear it and I think: Mother had a really pretty voice. My father, though. He missed them terribly. I never saw him cry, not even after we had to burn all the photos and notebooks. But I’d wake up in the middle of the day and find him staring out the unshuttered window, a beam of sunshine plunging down on his heavy face, his broad shoulders shaking.
My father had prepared me to be alone. He knew that day would eventually come, although I think deep down he believed it was he who would be the last one left, not me. He spent years drilling the rules into me so I knew them better than my own self. Even now, as I get ready for school at dusk, that laborious process of washing, filing my nails, shaving my arms and legs (and recently, even a few chest hairs), rubbing ointment (to mask the odor), polishing my fake fangs, I hear his voice in my head, going over the rules.
Like today. Just as I’m slipping on my socks, I hear his voice. The usual warnings: Don’t go to sleepovers; don’t hum or whistle. But then I hear this rule he’d say maybe just once or twice a year. He said it so infrequently, maybe it wasn’t a rule but something else, like a life motto. Never forget who you are. I never knew why my father would say that. Because it’s like saying don’t forget water is wet, the sun is bright, snow is cold. It’s redundant. There’s no way I could ever forget who I am. I’m reminded every moment of every day. Every time I shave my legs or hold in a sneeze or stifle a laugh or pretend to flinch at a slip of stray light, I am reminded of who I am.
A fake person.
Copyright © 2012 by Andrew Fukuda
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