Genesis by Brendan Reichs
Series: Project Nemesis #2
Publication date: March 6th, 2018
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
Noah Livingston knows he is destined to survive.
The 64 members of Fire Lake's sophomore class was trapped in a place where morals have no meaning, and zero rules apply. But Noah's deaths have trained him--hardened him--to lead the strongest into the future... whatever that may be. And at any cost.
Min Wilder knows that survival alone isn't enough.
Trapped in a violent world where brute force passes for leadership, it's temping to lay back and let everyone else fight it out. But Min's instincts rebel against allowing others to decide who lives and who dies. She's ready to fight for what she believes in. And against whomever might stand in her way.
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Excerpt
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We went there to kill them all. Fire and blood. Blood and fire. I stalked through the midnight-dark woods, making as little noise as possible. Kyle was beside me. Akio a step behind. We stole through the bare trunks like smoke, stepping lightly in our snowshoes, a pack of hungry wolves scenting prey. The target was still a football field away and a hundred feet downslope, but experience had taught me to be wary.
I'd been killed twice that week already, ambushed both times. Had no interest in another death. Resetting in new places had been disorienting. Unnerving. the rules had changed, and I didn't know all the new ones yet. but I'd learn.
Reaching the tree line, I dropped to a knee and freed my boots from the snowshoes. An icy wind smacked me in the face, tingling my cheeks and scraping my nose like sandpaper. I peered down the plunging mountainside before me, a barren stretch of slope barely dusted with white despite deep drifts piled up on both sides.
A full moon hung low and huge in the sky, glowing like a candle. Squinting, I could see our objective: a log cabin at the bottom of the run--simple, rough-hewn, topped by a cedar-chip roof and a stone chimney. Soft yellow lamplight spilled from two blocky windows. Inhaling, I caught faint traces of burning pine.
I shook my head, nearly snorting in disbelief.
These classmates were cocky. They'd planted a double line of tiki torches that stabbed up the center of the slope. Angry orange flames danced in the heavy gusts, reflecting off the frozen landscape, creating pools of shadow and light among the encroaching trees.
The kids inside probably thought the torches made them safer. They didn't.
Echoes of their laughter had risen all the way to our base at the mountaintop chalet. I was living in the same suite the black-suited man had once occupied, back in the real world, be-fore it died. Stepping out onto the ice-covered patio, I'd heard voices. Tasted wood smoke. Spotted the flickering pinpricks a mile away.
I clicked my tongue at the memory. This cabin was firmly outside of downtown limits. An expansion into my territory. They were testing me. Mistake.
I'd been killed twice that week already, ambushed both times. Had no interest in another death. Resetting in new places had been disorienting. Unnerving. the rules had changed, and I didn't know all the new ones yet. but I'd learn.
Reaching the tree line, I dropped to a knee and freed my boots from the snowshoes. An icy wind smacked me in the face, tingling my cheeks and scraping my nose like sandpaper. I peered down the plunging mountainside before me, a barren stretch of slope barely dusted with white despite deep drifts piled up on both sides.
A full moon hung low and huge in the sky, glowing like a candle. Squinting, I could see our objective: a log cabin at the bottom of the run--simple, rough-hewn, topped by a cedar-chip roof and a stone chimney. Soft yellow lamplight spilled from two blocky windows. Inhaling, I caught faint traces of burning pine.
I shook my head, nearly snorting in disbelief.
These classmates were cocky. They'd planted a double line of tiki torches that stabbed up the center of the slope. Angry orange flames danced in the heavy gusts, reflecting off the frozen landscape, creating pools of shadow and light among the encroaching trees.
The kids inside probably thought the torches made them safer. They didn't.
Echoes of their laughter had risen all the way to our base at the mountaintop chalet. I was living in the same suite the black-suited man had once occupied, back in the real world, be-fore it died. Stepping out onto the ice-covered patio, I'd heard voices. Tasted wood smoke. Spotted the flickering pinpricks a mile away.
I clicked my tongue at the memory. This cabin was firmly outside of downtown limits. An expansion into my territory. They were testing me. Mistake.
About the Author:
Brendan Reichs was born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. He graduated from Wake Forest University in 2000 and the George Washington University School of Law in 2006. After three long years working as a litigation attorney, he abandoned the trade to write full time. He lives in Charlotte with his wife, son, daughter, and a herd of animals that tear up everything.
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