Showing results for "Ali" in Post-Apocalyptic

There came an elastic aftershock of creaks and groans and then, softly softly, a chinking shower of rubbled cement. Leaves calmed and trunks stood serene. Where, not a minute before, there had been a suburb, there was now only woodland standing amid ruins. There is no warning. No chance to prepare. They arrive in the night: thundering up through the ground, transforming streets and towns into shadowy forest. Buildings are destroyed.

Kris Ballard is a motorcycle courier. A nobody. Level Two trash in a multilevel city that stretches from San Francisco to the Mexican border - a land where corporations make all the rules. A runaway since the age of 14, Kris struggled to set up her life, barely scraping by, working hard to make it without anyone's help. But a late-day delivery changes everything when she walks in on the murder of one of her clients. Now she's stuck with a mysterious package that everyone wants.

Kris Merrill's life changed irrevocably when, a year ago, she was targeted for termination by the Meridian corporation, one of the mega-conglomerates that controls the government in this dystopian future. She hid amongst the underground resistance - but now, right as her training with the anti-corporate movement is nearing its end, their compound is destroyed. Ready or not, Kris and the other trainees are recalled to the dangerous metropolis of San Angeles.

Kris Merrill is a member of a small insurgent group operating within a multi-level metropolis that stretches from San Francisco to the Mexican border. Her attempt at rescuing Ian Miller failed, leaving her alone and her unborn son without a father. Without the trust of the insurgents, Kris is relegated to low-level assignments for them, and trying desperately to keep her pregnancy a secret. She is alone. War has started between the corporations. The people living in the lower levels of San Angeles have become the victims.

Il mondo è cambiato. Qualcosa ha travolto la razza umana in modo subdolo, creando l’ennesima spaccatura tra gli svegli e i meno intelligenti. Ovunque ruderi di case cadono silenti, alberi morti pronti a rivivere, resti di vetture e moto gettati per terra, di traverso, cappottati, ambulanze, macchine della polizia, qualche mezzo militare. Defunti come ogni cosa lì. Saccheggiati da tempo da disperati che poi ne hanno fatto l’uso più consono. Per lo più si sono eliminati tra di loro. “Quando i morti camminano, signori, bisogna smettere di uccidere… o si perde la guerra.”