By J. F. Gonzalez
The 1st wave was once only the start . . . the USA is in ruins. It has simply suffered one of many worst hurricanes in background, the folks are demoralized, and the president is a non secular enthusiast. Then issues get rather undesirable - the Clickers go back. hundreds of thousands of the monsters swarm around the whole state and march inland, slaughtering a person and whatever they arrive throughout. yet this time the Clickers are usually not blindly speeding onto land - they're being led via an intelligence older than civilization itself. A strength that desires to take dry land clear of the mammals. these left alive quickly become aware of that they have to do every thing and whatever they could to guard humanity - irrespective of the associated fee. this is not conflict, this is often extermination.
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Extra info for Clickers II: The Next Wave
Two young girls strolled by his lifeguard stand, their bikinis concealing only their nipples and ass cracks, and leaving nothing else to the imagination. They smiled at him. He smiled back. Giggling, they walked away. Milo eyed them with appreciation. He loved his job. It was a perfect summer day. The sky was blue, the air crisp, and the sun warm. The beach smelled of suntan lotion and coconut butter and cotton candy. Nearby, six different radios battled for supremacy, blasting everything from hip-hop to country music.
None of the news was good and with each passing moment it grew steadily worse. “So big,” he muttered. “Bigger than the ones before…” The official death toll was thirty-five. That was the number being parroted by the media. The Pentagon and the Office of Homeland Security had both been quick in putting a lid on press reports and suppressing news coverage now, anxious for their own public relations people to put a spin on things. But the leaks were already starting to pop up, mostly via the internet.
I made it about two miles. The roads are packed. ” “The storm changed course? ” “My God…” His voice dropped to a whisper. ” Jennifer grew concerned. “What is it? ” “A bunch of teenagers are looting this tractor trailer. It’s sitting in the breakdown lane. I think they might be gang members or something. One of them has a gun just sticking out of his waistband. ” “Lock your car doors,” Jennifer said. ” “No, and I don’t recommend you take it when you leave, either. Where will you go? ” “No,” Jennifer said, staring at the television.