By Whitley Strieber
December 21, 2012, might be some of the most watched dates in heritage. each 26,000 years, Earth strains up with the precise middle of our galaxy. At 11:11 on December 21, 2012, this occasion occurs back, and the traditional Maya calculated that it is going to mark the tip, not just of this age, yet of human recognition as we all know it. But what is going to really ensue? the top of the area? a brand new age for mankind? not anything? The final time this occurred, Cro-Magnon guy without notice all started growing nice artwork within the caves of southern France, which to at the present time is still probably the most inexplicable adjustments in human historical past. Now Whitley Strieber explores 2012 in a towering paintings of fiction that may astound readers with its really new insights and a riveting roller-coaster ride of a story. A mysterious alien presence all of sudden bursts out of sacred websites around the world and starts to rip human souls from their our bodies, plunging the area into chaos it hasn't ever prior to recognized. Courage meets cowardice, loyalty meets betrayal as a whole international struggles to outlive this wonderful end-all war. Heroes emerge, villains exhibit themselves, and after all anything thoroughly new and unforeseen occurs that instantaneously lifts the fictitious characters right into a new lifestyles, and sounds a haunting real-world caution for the long run.
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Bobby went to the main door, opened it for a moment, then returned. "It's Saint Peter's," he announced. Mal Holmes said, "This is insane! What are we doing just waiting like this. Tarr had a point, let's go outside, let's put up a fight. " "Our fight is in our prayers," Reg shouted. Mrs. James cried out loudly, then, and shook her fist, a gesture that must have been repeated billions upon billions of times on earth over these past terrible weeks. "I want to read now," Reg called out. "I have a text.
There was a silence. It extended. Eventually, Matt came back. " "The faint plink of leaves falling. " "No, but I did hear something connected with church bells, actually. With belfries. Bats. " "The drunk tank's rusted closed. " Wiley hung up. He flipped on his police scanner and watched the red LED race across the little screen. The scanner emitted a slight burp of static each time it crossed the county sheriff's carrier wave. Lonely sound. Lonely out here. He'd damn well heard those bells. Not in this version of Harrow, Kansas, though.
They were from here. But in their version of earth, the dinosaurs had never gone extinct. Instead, that dark reptilian brain had grown and evolved and changed until these sleek creatures had come about-tough, brilliant, and utterly heartless. Oh, God. God help the human beings. With our compassion and our softness of spirit, we were not going to be a match for brilliant reptiles, not in Martin's universe or in this one. They were going to take it all. They really, really were. The woods were dead quiet, the early December night touched by just an edge of crispness.
2012: The War for Souls by Whitley Strieber