EARTH'S SURVIVORS: The Earth's Survivors Series follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely, hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in desperate struggle to survive. From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The dead lay in the streets while gangs fight for control of what is left. Small groups band together for safety and begin to leave the ravaged cities behind in search of a future that can once again hold promise. Dell Sweet.
His head was worse. Pain inside every time he tried to move too fast. It felt like liquid sloshing around inside his head, his brain shifting with it, slamming into the bone cage of his skull and he wondered if it were true or just something his mind provided in explanation of the pain. As he sat the pain eased enough for him to stand. Standing helped to ease it even more and he began to search for the others...
Suddenly, a silver flash swept from the darkness towards him. His hand was still looking for the light switch, and his mind did not immediately register what it was.
...WHAT? His mind cried out in alarm as his eyes watched the shining flat arc sweep towards him.
...A knife? ...At me? ...Why?
"Not real," he muttered aloud backing away.
But his hands came away from his chest with bloody drops clinging to them.
His eyes watched as a disembodied hand plunged the knife deeply into his chest again.
Hand, he thought... Is that my Blood?
The hand with the knife flickered quickly out of sight into the darkness, only to reappear a split second later and plunge deeply into his chest once more.
KNIFE ...KNIFE ...KNIFE! His mind screamed.
Two men stepped from the shadows. The larger one still held the knife threateningly in his hand as Joe slumped to the floor.
NO... He tried to say, but found he could not.
Strong hands closed around his wrists and were joined by others as his bleeding body was lifted from the floor. He tried to scream but could make no sounds. His chest felt as though a large boulder rested on it.
It doesn't actually hurt, he thought, but they could have killed me, and I can't breathe well, and, WHY?
His chest hitched once and stopped...
“Good Omens . . . is something like what would have happened if Thomas Pynchon, Tom Robbins and Don DeLillo had collaborated. Lots of literary inventiveness in the plotting and chunks of very good writing and characterization. It’s a wow. It would make one hell of a movie. Or a heavenly one. Take your pick.”—Washington Post
According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world's only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner.
So the armies of Good and Evil are amassing, Atlantis is rising, frogs are falling, tempers are flaring. Everything appears to be going according to Divine Plan. Except a somewhat fussy angel and a fast-living demon—both of whom have lived amongst Earth's mortals since The Beginning and have grown rather fond of the lifestyle—are not actually looking forward to the coming Rapture.
And someone seems to have misplaced the Antichrist . . .