All Roads Lead To Terror (This Laweless Land)

In a chaotic, post-apocalyptic world, an endless night is closing in, and only the strong will survive. In the midst of the turmoil, fourteen-year-old Meat, and his three closest friends, embark on a mission to rescue kidnapped children from the compound enslaving them. Battling their way through treacherous terrain and immeasurable odds, the boys must learn to lean on each other if they hope to survive. Little do they know fate has far greater plans for them. For they represent the trinity, a symbol older than time itself, that keeps the darkness at bay. They are three, bound by a fourth, destined to save mankind. With time running out, and the cloak of eternal night descending, can the boys find a way to turn the tables on evil? Or will they be the next to join the growing legion of the dead?

From the Inside Flap

ExcerptIn his stocking feet, Meat moved away from the barn, crouching low and keeping to the shadows. He quickly made his way into the forest that surrounded the small farm. His skin crawled as he vanished into the gloom, the remnants of the nightmare that had awakened him still fresh in his mind.He'd been dreaming of that lone house surrounded by an overgrown yard through which unseen things slithered within shadowy spaces. He and the man he called Dad had taken refuge within those silent walls that weren't so quiet, the whispered memories of its past lying at the indistinct edge of consciousness, as the ghosts of a happier time moved through shadowy rooms.A swing set in the backyard offered mute testimony to the joy that had once inhabited the house. Its rusted chains squeaked with a plaintive cry as an errant breeze moved it to and fro. Pictures on the mantle piece, covered by a deep layer of dust, provided evidence that this dead place had once known life, light, and the happiness of a growing family. In one photo, a man and woman stood together, the woman leaning back into the man's strong arms, their entwined hands resting on her swollen belly.The photo had both frightened him and filled him with a sense of loss, sorrow for a child that might never know the joys life had to offer. Joys he himself had never known. A part of him understood, with a maturity beyond his years, that his sorrow was for himself and the other children he'd seen struggling to survive in a world turned upside down.Pushing away the dream, and the memories it awakened, he slowed his steps considerably to keep from stirring the dead leaves at his feet and alerting the target. Carefully, he worked his way around until the tractor was directly between him and the barn. He knew then he was getting close and he stopped to listen.In the deep shadows ahead, he heard movement. Turning his head to the side, he watched from the corner of his eye, as he had been taught by the man he called Dad, and was rewarded with a glimpse of a shadowy form crouched at the tree line. The stranger was watching the barn and house that glowed with the ghostly light of the full moon. Seemingly unaware of Meat's presence.Ever so carefully, he worked his way around behind the watcher, maintaining his distance. The soft breeze stirring the leaves around them helped to mask any sound he made, while at the same time, it carried away his scent. He was slowly approaching the figure when, warned of his approach by some primitive sixth sense, that shadowy form suddenly spun around to confront him. From the gloom came the sound of cold steel being drawn across leather and Meat spotted the faint glimmer of a blade.He stepped back, dodging the arc of the sharp edge that narrowly missed laying open his throat. Weaving to the right, away from the blade, Meat lunged forward, his right hand grasping what felt like a small neck, his fingers digging into pliable flesh. From the shadowy form came a strangled cry of surprise.Meat felt a small hand wrapping itself about his wrist as the faint glimmer of the blade flashed in the shadows. He felt the blade as it passed across his forearm, the sting of cold steel slicing through warm flesh. Meat drew back his left hand, balled it into a fist, and slammed it into the unseen face above his right hand. The figure suddenly went limp as Meat held on, knowing that if he let go, he might lose the watcher in the gloomy depths that filled the forest around him.

About the Author

Richard is the author of six novels, two novellas, and a collection of short stories with much more on the way. His short work has appeared in a diverse range of publications from Dark Moon Digest to The Backbone Mountain Review. His most recent work includes Legion of the Damned, book three in his post apocalyptic coming of age series, The Dreadland Chronicles.Unlike other writers who knew they wanted to write the moment they became self aware, Richard's path to taking up the pen followed a more leisurely route.As a child he wanted to be a fighter pilot, later he thought it would be neat to be a rock star. Unfortunately, he was not suited for the stage. Once he gave up the guitar, much to the relief of his parents, he turned his attention to movies.Armed with an 8mm movie camera, several rolls of aluminum foil liberated from the kitchen, and the spare bed sheets, he filmed his first masterpiece. The story was about a space ship crash landing in the woods behind his house. His sister starred as the damsel in distress while his little brother, wrapped like a mummy in the spare bed sheets, chased her through the woods.His career as a famous director ended before it even got off the ground when on opening night his mother recognized the missing bed sheets and aluminum foil resulting in his grounding for the remainder of that summer.

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