Broken

The Walker in the Dust

Book 1
Russell Ackerman
25

The wasteland is full of danger, it’s always a choice between bad and worse. Every step forward is a step into the unknown. The Walker in the Dust: Broken is the story of a man in the post nuclear wasteland who loses everything, a man who seeks death but finds purpose instead in the bright eyes of a child, and under the wing of a veteran survivor. It’s not a story about fighting, or killing, or saving the world. It’s about putting one foot in front of the other when all odds are stacked against you, when the greatest danger comes not from the giant scorpions or scorching wasteland, but from your own self doubt, and from the apocalypse within.  Welcome to the dust.
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About the author

 Russ is a professional gardener who is currently pursuing an undergraduate psychology degree.  He has a wife, a step daughter, and way too many cats.

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4.2
25 total
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Additional Information

Publisher
Russell Ackerman
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Published on
Jul 15, 2014
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Pages
104
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ISBN
9781493704941
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Best For
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Dystopian
Fiction / Science Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic
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Content Protection
This content is DRM free.
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To whomever it may concern:

They named it before it fell, when it was still a star in the evening sky, among so many others.  So many people died.  And for many generations afterwards people survived and bore children…  Babies underground, babies in vaults, babies in caves, babies near trash, babies eating trash…  And living.  And the world was eventually…  It’s still destroyed.  But where this certain bomb fell, the place had become something else.

They gave it a name before it fell.  “Wormwood,” They said it as the bright dot in the sky got closer and closer to all the other bright dots, as they entered the atmosphere.  It was worse than the others.  Strange things happen now, in the place where it fell.  A rift in reality itself, if you can call it that.  If this wasteland is reality anymore, or purgatory, or a sick god’s cruel joke, I’m not sure.  But it’s there.  They call it the edge of the wasteland.  It’s there, but it’s not like Earth anymore.  They say the souls of the dead get stuck there and can’t find peace.

I’ve seen it.  Sure I’ve seen it, but do you really want to know?  I experienced things there that I can never understand.  The bitter taste in my mouth, the rolling rocks that move of their own accord... Gravitational anomalies that can rip a man to shreds, and gateways into other dimensions.  The spitting cactus, with its poison needles.  The snow flies, and their sickly smell, and the flesh eating blobs.   Or should I try to describe the wailing of the dead?

They say all the radiation in the wasteland comes from there.   The place belches it out, continually poisoning the earth with rads.  How did I survive?  The giant scorpions were the key… Their venom is like a natural rad-b-gone.  They’re around, they’re always around.  I’ll give you a hint.  Don’t try to run.  The scorpids hate it when you run.


To whomever it may concern:

They named it before it fell, when it was still a star in the evening sky, among so many others.  So many people died.  And for many generations afterwards people survived and bore children…  Babies underground, babies in vaults, babies in caves, babies near trash, babies eating trash…  And living.  And the world was eventually…  It’s still destroyed.  But where this certain bomb fell, the place had become something else.

They gave it a name before it fell.  “Wormwood,” They said it as the bright dot in the sky got closer and closer to all the other bright dots, as they entered the atmosphere.  It was worse than the others.  Strange things happen now, in the place where it fell.  A rift in reality itself, if you can call it that.  If this wasteland is reality anymore, or purgatory, or a sick god’s cruel joke, I’m not sure.  But it’s there.  They call it the edge of the wasteland.  It’s there, but it’s not like Earth anymore.  They say the souls of the dead get stuck there and can’t find peace.

I’ve seen it.  Sure I’ve seen it, but do you really want to know?  I experienced things there that I can never understand.  The bitter taste in my mouth, the rolling rocks that move of their own accord... Gravitational anomalies that can rip a man to shreds, and gateways into other dimensions.  The spitting cactus, with its poison needles.  The snow flies, and their sickly smell, and the flesh eating blobs.   Or should I try to describe the wailing of the dead?

They say all the radiation in the wasteland comes from there.   The place belches it out, continually poisoning the earth with rads.  How did I survive?  The giant scorpions were the key… Their venom is like a natural rad-b-gone.  They’re around, they’re always around.  I’ll give you a hint.  Don’t try to run.  The scorpids hate it when you run.


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