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Narrated by Scott Brick
Gregg HurwitzUnabridged — 13 hours, 4 minutes
Narrated by Scott Brick
Gregg HurwitzUnabridged — 13 hours, 4 minutes
Nate Overbay, a former soldier suffering from PTSD and ALS, goes to an eleventh-floor bank and climbs out the bathroom window onto the ledge, ready to end it all. But as he's steeling himself to jump, a crew of gunmen bursts into the bank and begins viciously shooting employees and customers. With nothing to lose, Nate climbs back inside, confronts the robbers, and with his military training, starts taking them out, one by one. The last man standing leaves Nate with a cryptic warning: "He will make you pay in ways you can't imagine."
Soon enough, Nate learns what this means. He is kidnapped by Pavlo, a savage Ukrainian mobster and mastermind of the failed heist. Now blocked from getting into the bank vault to retrieve the critical item inside, Pavlo gives Nate a horrifying ultimatum: Either break in and acquire the item or watch Pavlo slowly kill the people Nate loves most - his estranged wife, Janie, and his teenaged daughter, Cielle. Nate lost them both when he came back from Iraq broken and confused. Now he's got one chance to protect the people he loves, even if it's the last thing he is able to do.
The premise is so crushingly perfect that most Hollywood screenwriters would give a kidney to have dreamed it up…The plot unfolds with propulsive determination…Things go from bad to worse, and for page after irresistible page, Hurwitz ramps up the tension, ending in a climax that's not one bit less satisfying for being predictable. It's so thrillingly cinematic that if Ryan Gosling hasn't already been pitched the role of Nate, he should fire his agent.
—Steve Donoghue
Hurwitz’s hair-raising stand-alone stars an unlikely hero, 36-year-old Nate Overbay. Diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease nine months earlier, Nate is about to leap off an 11th-floor ledge of a bank building in Santa Monica, Calif., when he notices a robbery in progress through the window next to where he’s standing. Nate climbs back in the window undetected, grabs a handgun a masked man has conveniently set down, and, thanks to his ROTC firearms training, succeeds in shooting dead five of the six robbers. In revenge, the thwarted theft’s mastermind, a notorious Ukrainian mobster, vows to brutally kill Nate and his teenage daughter unless Nate can retrieve the robbery’s objective: an envelope stored in one of the bank’s safe deposit boxes. In between tight, compelling action scenes, Hurwitz (You’re Next) sensitively depicts Nate’s struggles with ALS. While Nate’s exploits may be a little beyond his skill set at times, thriller fans won’t let this one gather any dust on the nightstand. Author tour. Agent: Aaron Priest. (Aug.)
“Hurwitz can take a high-concept thriller and deliver the extras needed to elevate it further…[With] The Survivor, he outdoes himself.” —Washington Post
“In between tight, compelling action scenes, Hurwitz sensitively depicts Nate's struggles…thriller fans won't let this one gather any dust on the nightstand.” —Publishers Weekly
“Hurwitz demonstrates his mastery of the thriller genre...The book opens as dramatically as a reader could hope for and doesn't relent....succeeds on every level.” —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“A riveting, potboiler of a tale, featur[ing] one of the most original, and daring, setups seen in many a thriller…a jigging and jagging hybrid of Rear Window and a Bourne tale with a brain. Just call it terrific.” —Providence Sunday Journal
“Surely Hurwitz can't keep this up forever. Lately, each new book he publishes is his best so far, and this one's no exception...It's hard to imagine that he can top this one, but, based on past performance, don't bet against it.” —Booklist (starred review)
“This book evokes a wide range of emotions, from horror at the shocking violence to sympathy for children whose parents are absent. The plot, characters and their actions will keep you thinking for days...” —RT Book Reviews (Top Pick)
Divorced and terminally ill, vet Nate Overbay stands 11 stories up on the ledge of a bank building, ready to end it all. When robbers break into the bank, he rushes down to save the day but is later kidnapped by the Russian mobster behind the break-in. He's got a job Nate had better do—or his ex-wife and daughter will suffer. Hurwitz's You're Next was an LJ Best Thriller of 2011.
Hurwitz demonstrates his mastery of the thriller genre. Nate Overbay stands on an 11th-story building ledge as gunshots erupt inside. Curiosity overcomes his suicide plan as he looks through the bank window and witnesses a robbery in progress. He climbs back inside, shoots five criminals dead and saves the day. Thus, instead of splattering himself on top of a Dumpster, Nate becomes an unwilling hero. He suffers from ALS and simply wants to spare himself the agonizing end that is only months away. The trouble is, now he has angered Pavlo, the Ukrainian mobster who had directed the heist. Pavlo is an unusually sadistic sort who plans to make Nate pay in the worst possible way--through Nate's daughter. The book opens as dramatically as a reader could hope for and doesn't relent. That Nate must die is inevitable, given his fatal illness. The question is whether he dies on his own terms. Nate's been a hero once before, but he's also been weak. Now he must protect and re-bond with his estranged family in the face of vengeful monsters. Hurwitz's writing is crisp and economical, and he steers clear of hackneyed phrases and one-dimensional characters--Nate's and Pavlo's back stories are well-crafted, although the ghost of Nate's dead friend Charles seems inspired by a James Lee Burke novel. A fine thriller that succeeds on every level. How often do you read about a hero who just wants to die in peace?
| BN ID: | 2940169874938 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Brilliance Audio |
| Publication date: | 08/21/2012 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Chapter 1
From this height the cars looked like dominoes, the pedestrians like roving dots. The breeze blew crisp and constant, cooling Nate’s lungs on the inhale—none of that touted L.A. smog this close to the ocean. To the west, blocks of afternoon gridlock ended at the Santa Monica cliffs, a sheer drop to white sand and the eternal slate of the sea. The view would have been lovely.
Except he was here to kill himself.
The eleventh-story ledge gave him two spare inches past the tips of his sneakers. Balance was a challenge, but getting out here had been the hardest part. He’d shoehorned himself through the ancient bathroom window at First Union Bank of Southern California, wobbling for a solid minute on the ledge before daring to rise.
On the street below, people scurried about their business, no one squinting up into the late-morning glare to spot him. As he flattened against the wall, his senses lurched into overdrive—the smacking of his heart against his ribs, the sweat-damp shirt clinging to his shoulders, the salt tinge burning his nostrils. It felt a lot like panic, but somehow calmer, as if his brain was resigned to the circumstances but his body wasn’t getting the signals.
Because he was unwilling to risk landing on someone—with his luck he’d pile-drive a pension-check-cashing granny through the pavement—he continued slide-stepping to the end of the ledge. The corner of the building gave him less trouble than he’d anticipated as he elbow-clamped his way around, and then he was staring down at the empty alley and the target of the Dumpster below. It was, if nothing else, a considerate plan. If he hit the bin squarely, the steel walls would contain the spatter, leaving him neatly packaged for delivery to the crematorium. He was sick of people cleaning up after him.
It had been less than ten minutes since he’d laid open that Dumpster lid, but it seemed like days. The chilly elevator ride up, the nod to the wizened black security guard, that final moment collecting his nerves by the row of urinals before muscling open the sash window—each had stretched out into a lifetime.
First Union of SoCal was one of the few West Coast banks located up off the ground floor—cheaper real estate, more space, better security. But only one high-rise perk held Nate’s interest currently. Gauging his position, he slid another half step to the right, stopping shy of a casement window that had been cranked several turns outward. From the gap issued a current of warm, coffee-scented air and the busy hum of tellers and customers. Business as usual.
He considered his own dwindling checking account within. His next step—literally—would void the million-dollar life-insurance policy to which he dutifully wrote a check every January, but even that wouldn’t matter. There was no one who wanted anything of him and nothing ahead but increments of misery.
He took a deep breath—his last?—and closed his eyes. Spreading his arms, he let the October wind rise through the thin cotton of his T-shirt and chill the sweat on his ribs. He waited for his life to flash before his eyes, the ethereal song and dance, but there was nothing. No wedding-day close-up of Janie’s lips parting to meet his, no image of Cielle dressed as a pumpkin for Halloween with her chocolate-smudged hands and dimpled thighs, just the teeth of the wind and a thousand needle points of fear, skewering him like a pincushion. The longest journey, according to Taoism and Hallmark, begins with a single step.
And so does the shortest.
He took one foot and moved it out into the weightless open.
That was when he heard the gunshots.
Copyright © 2012 by Gregg Hurwitz
