By Robert R. McCammon
Robert McCammon captivates readers and stretches the limits of mind's eye with each new publication he writes. There are actually over five million copies of his books in print, and his final 3 novels, The Wolf's Hour, Stinger, and Swan music, have been manhattan occasions bestsellers, incomes him accolades as essentially the most leading edge storytellers of our time. In Mine, McCammon takes the reader past terror . . . into one woman's surprising global of insanity and obsesion.
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Additional resources for Mine
Donna pushed open the heavy swinging door and stood and stared in petrified disbelief. Neil Peters - the man she had watched fall and die in front of her just two days earlier - was moving. Swaying unsteadily on clumsy, uncoordinated feet and stumbling about lethargically, the dead man dragged himself across the room, stopping and turning awkwardly whenever he hit the wall or a desk or other obstruction and was unable to move any further forward. Instinctively Donna reached out and grabbed hold of him.
Regardless of what happened to the rest of the building, therefore, power to the locks remained constant, and that meant that she was able to securely shut out the rest of the world until she was ready to face it again. The advantage may only have been a psychological one but it was enough. During the first few long hours of the nightmare that extra layer of security meant everything to her. Much of the rest of the first day had been spent collecting various supplies, initially from around the office and then, later, from several of the silent shops nearby.
Once or twice he cleared his throat, ready to shout out for help, but at the last moment his nerve had gone and he had decided against it. Much as he wanted to attract the attention of anyone who had survived, he was desperate not to attract the attention of anything else. And despite the fact that there didn’t seem to be anything else left to attract, he didn’t have the balls to take the chance. It all boiled down to the fact that he was scared. No, he wasn’t just scared, he was damn terrified.
Mine by Robert R. McCammon